In October 1983 I found myself sitting in the congregation again. For six months I’d been leading worship and preaching. But no more.
The year before, I’d tried to plant a church in a newly developed area north of Cincinnati. One core family had moved to this neighborhood from an existing conference church in another city and had opened their home for a Bible study. On Easter of 1983 we began worship services in a rented facility.
We canvassed the neighborhood and spoke to other Free Methodists living in the Cincinnati area, but no one responded. After six months of services for just my husband and the one family, the one family burned out.
So there I was, churchless.
My husband and I took off to visit my family for the weekend. That way at least I would spend my first churchless Sunday in a familiar congregation, the church I attended in seminary. In the pew that morning, however, I felt so passive just sitting in the congregation.
Then came the announcement of a recent seminary graduate’s celebrating his first worship service that morning with a group that had been waiting for a church planter. On my first Sunday of failure, I thought, this pastor is experiencing success! He and I had gone through membership class together. Now he had gathered a congregation. I had nothing to show for the year I had labored. Although I wanted to rejoice with him, it was hard at that moment.
Sometimes our own sense of failure is amplified by someone else’s apparent success. Others’ successes made me ask, What did I do wrong? Why didn’t I see any results? Was I unfaithful? We compare our work with others’-even though we know better.
When I subsequently returned to finish my degree at seminary, my preaching professor, Charles Killian, helped me. He explained that some of us will serve in the rain forest, ripe for ministry. These people will reap abundant results when given the privilege to serve there. Others will find themselves in a relatively barren desert, not due to any fault of their own or to God’s unfaithfulness.
When faced with a desert, we simply need different expectations. Even in the desert, spring brings beauty as the cacti bloom into marvelous color. The splendor is all the more radiant in contrast to the bleak surroundings. Yes, even in a spiritual desert, we’ll probably see some fruit. There, our job is to appreciate what fruit we’re given.
We may need to rejoice in small increments of growth, like one new person in adult Sunday school or three new kids at vacation Bible school. Obviously we’d like to see large numbers respond to Christ. Yet if we’re in a desert, we won’t benefit from being frustrated when this doesn’t happen.
Whether we serve in the rain forest or the desert, our success is measured by our faithfulness and obedience to God. We can accept neither the blame for the barrenness nor the credit for the fruit borne. After a time, we may find ourselves in an oasis in the midst of our desert. Sometimes years are required to reap a crop from the dry soil.
After my first church-planting effort failed, I began again with a Bible study in the city. This continued for eighteen months while I finished my seminary degree. Out of seminary, I had more time, but still I saw little growth.
Then in the fall of 1985, two years after my initial failure, plans began to fall into place. An unused church sanctuary was offered, and on the following Easter we held our first worship service with a handful from the Bible study, a few from the donor congregation, and new people from the community.
That first Sunday, only ten were present who would actually become a part of the congregation; another twenty-six attenders were friends and supporters imported for the sake of morale. On the following Easter the number of bona fide members had grown to twenty-seven.
That’s slow growth by most standards, but I’ve learned to rejoice with limited progress. Yes, I can expect progress, however slight. And no matter how large this or any future church becomes, I’ll remember my first experience of dehydration and how God does desire fruit to grow in the desert.
By accepting his call to a barren area, I experienced his faithfulness. As I have accepted not serving in a rain forest, I’ve found my oasis a mighty pleasant place.
-Kathy Callahan-Howell
Winton Community Free Methodist Church
Cincinnati, Ohio
Copyright © 1989 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.
