Our vacation Bible school was going on, and I was discouraged. We couldn't afford the full curriculum package. We made do with a few posters tacked up here and there. The entire thing was basically thrown together at the last minute by the same woman who had always done it. To top it off, VBS was being held in our musty church basement that always made my sinuses ache.
It was truly a wonder that anybody sent their children at all. After all, I had read that baby boomers demanded excellence in church programs—everything slick and professional. Our VBS was anything but. And yet we had a full enrollment.
Spotting excellence in the wild
As I passed the door to the third-grade classroom, a boy in the class seemed angry that, in the Bible story, God was going to destroy the world and kill everybody in the Flood. Listening to him confront the teacher, I suddenly knew that Cobblestone Church had an excellent VBS. It was helping boys and girls encounter, and at times wrestle with, God.
That, I believe, is what defines "excellence" in a small church—or any church, if you look beyond the numbers. Are people growing, and are we, pastor and leaders, helping them in that growth? Are more people active in our ministries? Are we reaching beyond our doors with the gospel?
If we judge ourselves solely by statistics, we're going to be discouraged. One year our church lost some members—several through job transfers, a few because of theological disagreements. When I met with the board for a year-end evaluation, I asked that we assess ourselves in light of how Scripture and our denomination's confessional standards define "church." By those standards, we were doing quite well.
Here are other ways we strive for excellence in God's service.
Taking the hard way out
Cobblestone Church would be content if I tried hard to be everybody's friend, preached a sermon every Sunday, taught the occasional new members or adult Bible study class, did visitation, and married and buried people.
The congregation certainly isn't putting pressure on me to stay current on church growth ideas or to steep myself in hermeneutics or church history.
My congregation isn't asking me to articulate a vision for their future. They are quite content with the way things are now.
As a small-church pastor, I face the temptation to settle into the comfortable role of family chaplain. It's certainly easier than risking the role of change agent, and it's easier than stretching my mind and, at times, my faith. But God hasn't called me to coast. He's called me to lead, serve, and grow—and in so doing, help Cobblestone to do the same.
Friends don't let friends slouch
In the small church, we're all friends, and friends overlook faults and rarely call one another to account. Friends don't say things like, "Say, Fred, when did you say that treasurer's report would be done? Wasn't it last week?" So in churches like Cobblestone, projects can sometimes take forever to complete. A Sunday school teacher can show up ill-prepared, but it's okay because, after all, "She's had a rough week." Ol' Joe can do his usual slipshod repair job, but at least it's working now.
Not everyone has much time or money to give the church—but everyone can pray.
I don't want my congregation to let me off the hook so easily. So I try to make sure, as much as possible, that I meet the deadlines that I've set up with my board. I'll bring in promised proposals on time and be greeted with a stunned, "My! You've really been busy since our last meeting." I also give a visitation report each month to my elders, not because they asked me to, but because I need to. I need these friends to hold me accountable.
You can't do everything, but do something
I know that our small church can't do all things well. I've had to concentrate my efforts in specific areas:
Worship
I work at finding subtle ways to enhance the congregation's worship. For example, I make sure my children's sermon ties in with the main sermon, illustrating one of the points I will be making later. That means I usually have to create the children's messages instead of relying on books, but it's worth it to keep the focus of worship intact.
Leadership training
I've put a lot of time into nurturing our church leaders, and the efforts are beginning to bear fruit. Recently I was apprehensive about an upcoming nominating committee meeting. I knew that a former board member had been recommended to serve as elder. I also knew I would have to oppose his nomination. He just wasn't spiritually mature enough to be an elder. Did the others see that, too, or would the typical small-church sentiment, "Don't pick on our friend," win the day?
Much to my surprise, the others did indeed see it, too. I had been sharing principles with them about the attributes of elders and deacons—and apparently they'd been listening.
Congregational life
The small church wants to be a place where everybody knows your name. Our task is to make it so. One of our elders, for example, invited a friend to the worship service. The friend, who had been burned by a string of bad experiences with churches, was reluctant to accept. The elder said, "Give it a try. I guarantee that at least three people will greet you and introduce themselves before the service starts." She took him up on the offer and found out he was right—and she kept coming back.
We hold fellowship opportunities about once a month, and I make sure to remind those looking for volunteers in different areas to make a point of inviting the newer members to serve. The elders and I keep track of Sunday attendance, and we try to reach out to those we haven't seen for awhile.
Meanwhile, we still don't have signs up that direct people to the coat racks and rest rooms. But we'll get around to all that. We're concentrating on some other things.
Willing but not quite able
Our praise/worship team wasn't working out. Sometimes their timing would be a bit off, or each member would be singing a slightly different version of the same song. The guitarists were rusty after years of letting their instruments gather dust. Clearly, the team wasn't up to leading weekly congregational singing. But I didn't want to throw cold water on hearts that were red-hot to serve the Lord. What to do?
I proposed to them that they consider offering occasional special music; that way they could do only those songs they felt confident with. New songs could be added to their repertoire only after the group had ample time to work them out. Also, they could share their music at special events like church dinners.
They readily picked up on these ideas. Now they use their talents without detracting from worship. And they don't feel as if they were shown the sanctuary exit door.
I, too, am not proficient in all areas. When I arrived at Cobblestone, I was told that part of my job was to do the bulletins and oversee the newsletter. Two frustrating years later (I'm a horrible typist and have no aptitude for fixing broken copiers), I asked the board to give me a secretary. They agreed. Too many Sundays of reading things like "O Worship the Kign" had taken their toll. We now have a ten-hour-a-week assistant.
We also have new Christians, some from rough or troubled backgrounds, who are not ready for leadership roles. But they can pray. Each week, I list church prayer requests in the bulletin and ask the congregation to pray for them during the coming week. These requests aren't the usual "pray for Mary's sick aunt." Instead I ask them to pray for programs, upcoming events, and leaders in the church. This way Cobblestone's ministry is bathed in prayer and, also, everyone can make a significant contribution.
Sounds pretty excellent to me.
Steve Bierly is pastor of Cobblestone Church in Schenectady, New York.
1998 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. For reprint information call 630-260-6200 or contact us.
