The area was changing rapidly. How would we respond?
by Steve Mathewson
This area of Montana is rapidly becoming like Aspen, Colorado, a home or second home for folks who can afford to live anywhere. With fax machines and the Internet, people run international businesses out of their homes. For an area that has traditionally been a ranching community, the culture shock could not be much greater.
With the rapid influx of new residents comes a clash of values-not just in the church, but in the community. Newcomers expect the amenities of suburbia. Old-timers complain that people move here to escape the city but bring the city’s problems with them.
The schools are struggling to keep up with enrollment. When we came to Belgrade, they had just built an addition on the middle school. Now they’re building again.
Dry Creek Bible Church has shifted in its make-up from rural to “rurban.” We’re in a country setting, but of our one hundred and twenty families, less than ten make their living from agriculture.
The price in the church
We’ve had an influx of spiritual “rookies” who are young in their faith or don’t yet have personal faith in Christ. We can no longer assume people understand church life or grasp basic biblical beliefs.
We’ve lost some of the family feeling we once had, which used to attract people to us. As we’ve grown, it’s become harder to provide that sense of belonging. And the growth has maxed out our facilities. Going to two services is so common, we often forget the price that comes with it.
Surprisingly, our old-timers have been fairly progressive. I credit a previous pastor who paved the way with a small-group ministry and a radio program. I inherited a group of people who were ready to go. A rancher who’s been with the church longer than anybody recently thanked me for helping the church develop a vision statement. We often are programmed to expect resistance from folks like him.
We’re constantly reminding people that the mission field is coming to us. I’ve had people say, “Yeah, that’s right. I shouldn’t be negative about these people moving in from out of state. I ought to be looking at it as an opportunity.” So they’re starting to shift their attitude. But it takes a while.
Frankly, most of the fallout has come from newcomers who want the family feeling. Their complaint has been, “We’re not appreciated. People don’t pay enough attention to us. Our needs aren’t being met. Nobody reaches out to us.”
On the other hand, we’ve had people who used to attend some of the most influential churches in America who appreciate our commitment to excellence and think bigger, in some cases, than I do. When they’ve seen building programs that cost tens of millions, they don’t blink at our $250,000 addition that nearly caused some of our older members to choke!
I’ve learned I can’t predict where the challenges of growing a church in a changing community will come from.
I was the church’s new leader, while the founding pastor was still there.
by Carey Casey
I served for a number of years as National Urban Director for the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. We had a comfortable life in suburban Kansas City, and I traveled the country speaking to college and professional athletes. I was a chaplain with the Olympic team during the ’88 games. I was chaplain of the Dallas Cowboys when Tom Landry was there. So in one sense, I had no preparation for coming to one of the most depressed neighborhoods on Chicago’s West Side.
Yet in another sense, Melanie and I were destined to lead a cross-cultural ministry majoring in racial reconciliation. When I played football at the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill, even through some tough times on campus, we were working on racial reconciliation. My dad was involved in the March on Washington, when Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., shared “I Have a Dream.” My father-in-law was in the same class as Dr. King at Morehouse College.
I came to a church that Wayne Gordon, a white man, had founded. He stepped aside as senior pastor, but he’s still here. He’s my best friend in the world, but the relationship has not been without a struggle. Talk about change and difference! Leadership dynamics are tough enough between people of the same race. But when you’re dealing with a church that’s 85 percent African-American and 15 percent Caucasian, those issues are amplified.
Wayne has a tendency to say, “All right. If Carey doesn’t step up, I’m going to jump in.” I have the tendency to not want to hurt him because he’s the founding pastor. I don’t confront; I just love him to death.
But because we are close to God and we meet every morning, we are able to get behind closed doors and do head-knocking. We pray, cry, scream, and critique, then get down the road. There’s great trust there.
Sometimes, I’d love to go to an all-black church. That tradition gives tremendous power to the pastor in the areas of leadership and administration. And I wouldn’t have to worry about how long worship lasts-the whites are ready to go in an hour, and the blacks want to stay longer. But then I wouldn’t have the opportunity to see the breakthroughs in cross-cultural relationships we have seen.
From the ‘burbs to the ‘hood
When you move from a comfortable suburban life to the fifteenth poorest community in America, people say, “What you’re doing is stupid. You have the privilege of going anywhere else, so get out of there.” But we know we’re doing what God wants us to do, so what choice do we have? It’s not without pain.
I love to come down early on Sunday morning before anyone gets here, to see our buildings that occupy two city blocks. We have a medical clinic that employs twenty-three doctors, a large community development corporation, a thrift store, a tutoring program, and even a new pizza parlor. It’s surreal because of the contrast to the area around it; it looks so neat and clean. We take pride, because we’re bringing hope to the community.
Then, as I stand to preach, I get to look out over that great congregation, rich and poor, black and white, and smile. It’s times like that when I am so grateful that God knows how to position his players!
There was a lot of church disunity, and most of it was my problem.
by Dee Duke
I was a dairy farmer when I came to this area in 1973 to go to Bible college. While here, I helped start a church, and later, they asked if I’d come preach for one year. The church was down to about twelve people meeting in a grade-school gym. So I came, and I stayed. That was twenty years ago.
Because of my work ethic from the farm, I jumped in and worked hard. By 1980, we had an average attendance of 180 people. That was pretty good growth in a four-year period. But during the next eight years, attendance would go up to about 240 and then down to 150. We did that two or three times. There was a lot of disunity.
Most of it was my problem. I didn’t know how to delegate. I wasn’t doing a good job of training people. My leadership style consisted of harassing people to do things so we could grow. We ended 1988 with 188 people, and I was just half a step from quitting and going back to the farm.
In February 1989, the first prayer summit took place in this area. During those four days, I was convicted about my lack of dependence on God, my pride, my fear of failure.
I came back and began to do a lot of things differently. The major shift was in the amount of prayer in the church and in my life. That prayer gave me a growing sense of dependency on and trust in Christ; I learned to trust people as well. Now, I’m always working with a group-discipling them, training them, teaching them.
There’s also a growing passion to reach the lost. Jesus commanded us to pray that he would send out harvest workers, so we pray for that every time we gather.
As a result, there’s a lot of ministry taking place in the church, developed by different people, that I don’t have anything to do with. Before, I felt I had to control everything, oversee it, monitor it. Now, the people are doing ministry. Sometimes I drive into the parking lot, and there are cars everywhere, and I don’t have a clue what’s going on!
Steve Mathewson is pastor of Dry Creek Bible Church in Belgrade, Montana. —Carey Casey is pastor of Lawndale Community Church in Chicago, Illinois. —Dee Duke is pastor of Jefferson Baptist Church in Jefferson, Oregon.
1997 by Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.
