Inactives are people who hurt. They need more than a scolding to become active in church. They also need pastoral care.
—Doug Self
Dropouts, delinquents, do-nothings, lazy, backsliders, complainers, and excuse makers. These are words regular church attenders often use to describe inactives. In Ministry to Inactives (Augsburg, 1979), Gerhard Knutson documents these attitudes. He tells of one study that revealed that regular church attenders tend to use the following words to describe their feelings about inactives: frustrated, fearful, anxious, worried, hostile, suspicious, sympathetic, puzzled, and embarrassed.
In my experience, active members aren’t hostile to inactives, but they are puzzled as to why they no longer attend. Especially after unsuccessfully reaching out to inactives, active members can become frustrated and, inadvertently, begin badmouthing them.
It’s no wonder, then, that inactives, as revealed in the same study, describe active church people as hypocrites, do-gooders, nosy, fussy, nit-pickers, bosses, “in group,” judges, high and mighty, and meddlers. And inactives describe themselves in relation to the church as condemned, forgotten, left out, lonely, rejected, abandoned, angry, suspicious, and apathetic.
Inactives, then, are people who hurt. They need more than a scolding to become active in church. They also need pastoral care.
And since inactives probably view me, the pastor, as the embodiment of the church, I need to be especially sensitive to their feelings about the church.
Pastoral care to inactives, like all pastoral care, must be approached case by case. I’ve found, in fact, that I need to employ a variety of strategies if I am going to minister to them effectively. Here are some of the most common.
Listen to Expert Testimony
Glen would attend church with his family for several months, then miss a month, and then come once and miss two more months. Then he’d repeat the whole cycle again.
Early on I had Glen pegged: he was unfaithful. He seemed to let slight colds and camping preempt his church attendance. More than once I went to Glen’s door with a reprimand ready.
We would visit casually at first, and then I would bring up his absences. He would wince, and, as I was about to launch into a gentle diatribe, he would confide in me about problems he was having with his children from a previous marriage. His oldest daughter, for example, was rebellious and trying drugs.
Over time I discovered that some weekends Glen took his children camping or backpacking. Some Saturday nights, after receiving a frantic call from his former wife, he spent cruising the streets looking for his daughter.
Inactive church members are the experts on why they’ve been absent. Each one knows exactly the reasons he or she is missing. My assumptions or suspicions are inadequate and often wrong. Better to go humbly to learn the inactive person’s reasons.
Recognize My Feelings
When I see someone is becoming inactive, a number of feelings stir within me.
Sometimes I’m angry. For instance, I help the Hansens through several life crises. I spend late-night hours counseling them. And as soon as their lives smooth out, they just drift away. It angers me. I had big plans for them. Amy is warm and gracious—the ideal worship greeter. Carl’s leadership ability would help our men’s ministry. Instead, in spite of my efforts and plans, they’re squandering their gifts in the snowmobile club!
Jerry and Kay, on the other hand, made me sad. Their marriage was troubled, and their kids were distancing themselves from the faith. Their son, in particular, had been in trouble with the law and appeared to be on a fast track to big-time hurt. Jerry and Kay were sitting on some time bombs, and they moved away from the church just when they most needed it.
It’s difficult, but I need to identify my feelings about inactives. Ironically, that helps me give my full attention to inactives.
Fred gave no indication that he was dissatisfied with our church, but suddenly he began attending another. We had developed a warm relationship, but when I stopped in to see him, he was cool and aloof at first. Eventually, though, he began to tell me that he was dissatisfied with my preaching and wanted to attend a church where the sermons were more to his liking.
When I asked what in my sermons he specifically didn’t like, he said, “I just felt I wasn’t fed anymore.”
That’s a response I don’t take well. I spend a lot of time on my sermons and feel that there is more meat in them than many people can digest. When someone tells me my sermons don’t feed them, it takes great restraint not to defend myself vigorously.
On this occasion, I recognized my rising anger and put it on the shelf for a while. Then I focused on Fred’s feelings, trying to see if there was something more.
“Have I offended you in some way?” I asked.
“No,” he said, but his facial expression hinted I was on the right track.
“Has someone else offended you?” I continued.
He lowered his eyes and toyed with a paper clip. “Well, yeah, but it’s no big deal.” He went on to describe an incident in which someone had ignored his input about the budget, implying even that he wasn’t spiritually mature. It hit him at a vulnerable time. Since he was, in fact, somewhat unhappy with my preaching, he took it as a convenient out.
That conversation, then, was enough to reopen the door to a good relationship. Had I not recognized my anger and put it aside, I may have focused on the wrong issue. I would have lost a friend and certainly a parishioner. As it is now, he just may come back to us —when he gets hungry for good preaching again!
Show Appreciation
I could hardly believe my ears when Christy, who had been actively involved in the drama team for some time, told me she was ready to quit—not just the drama group but also the church. When I asked why, she recited four or five incidents in which I had ignored or dismissed her suggestions. It seemed others had done the same. She was an inactive ready to happen.
Recovering my composure, I eventually convinced her that these rejections of her ideas were exceptions; we truly valued her.
This experience reawakened me to people’s need for recognition and appreciation. Unfortunately, I often fail to notice people who steadily contribute their time and ideas. But I’m learning. In fact, I’ve asked a few key people in the church to help me spot and creatively acknowledge the valuable ministry of some quiet regulars. Appreciation, I’ve found, thwarts inactivity.
Respect Inactives’ Anger
People who have dropped out have given a good deal of thought to their decision. If they’ve been offended, they’ve replayed the offense over and over in their minds. In some instances, they’ve whipped themselves into a frenzy of self-righteousness. Not coming to church is a dramatic statement of indignation. By the time I see them, inactives are stewing in a deep-rooted problem that will not yield to quick fixes.
Therefore, my first task is to respect the dignity of people who seem to be behaving immaturely. I want to see the offense from their point of view. I want to sense the strength of their emotional storm.
After the Bakers had missed several Sundays, I dropped by to visit. Harley and Eleanor had been offended, but I wasn’t sure how. As I sat in their living room, I was determined to listen non-defensively.
In a few moments Harley started in. He was miffed that we didn’t sing more traditional hymns. He had grown up on the old hymns, remembered them fondly, and longed for his children to grow up singing them as well.
“We just can’t abandon the music the church has sung for hundreds of years,” he concluded. “Those hymns mean something to us!”
I was tempted to launch into a defense of contemporary Christian music and explain vigorously the need to reach the new generation, but I checked myself.
“Which hymns do you like best?” I asked.
” ‘Rock of Ages,’ ‘Standing on the Promises,’ and ‘Blessed Assurance,’ are ones we were raised on,” said Eleanor.
“Well, I also remember singing those songs on Sunday mornings, Sunday nights, and Wednesday nights,” I responded. “They bring back a flood of memories for me, too.”
I went on to assure them that others felt as they did. But soon I was able to convince them of the need for new music, especially when I assured them we’d include more of their favorites.
Respecting people’s anger, I found, goes a long way toward dissolving that anger.
Take the Inactive’s Side
The Hardens had been with our church since our inception thirteen years before. They had struggled with us through cold winters in an inadequate building. We brought blankets and huddled together in that rented building, but such experiences forged bonds among those members.
Then the Hardens began missing a Sunday here and there; eventually they were only hitting a Sunday now and then. They assured me their absence was only due to illness, company, or trips.
When I suspected there was something more, I dropped by to express my concern. We were close and had been through a lot together, so the old times took up a bit of our early conversation.
Then Russ sighed and said, “Those were the good old days. We were all close back then. You could depend on each other. Now, if we miss a few Sundays, the Sunday we return there’s some new person greeting us at the door.”
As I listened, I found myself mentally accusing Russ and Trish of creating their own problems. Instead of diving in and making new friends, they had pulled back. It seemed as though they were expecting celebrity status from newcomers and then withdrawing when it wasn’t accorded.
I composed myself and tried to see the problem from their perspective. I agreed with them; it was a problem. I shared my own concern that our church not lose its personal touch as we grew larger. I also asked them how we could insure that people, new and old, weren’t lost in the numbers. Not only did the Hardens offer some good ideas, I couldn’t think of anyone better to implement them!
That, in fact, is another strategy I employ when working with inactives.
Channel Inactives’ Grievances into Active Ministry
When I found out that one of our single mothers was hurt, disappointed, and ready to leave the church, I stopped by for a visit. She didn’t need much prompting.
She began spilling a year and a half of pent-up frustration. She had felt out of place in our family-oriented church. She described the frustrations of trying to make it as a working single mother of a teenage son. It didn’t take long for me to feel the helplessness of her plight. And, yes, she had already visited another church in the area intending to find another church home.
I knew she was bright and articulate, but during our conversation I also began to sense that she had some organizational ability. After empathizing with her plight, I asked her to consider doing something positive for herself and the other single mothers in our congregation.
“You’re more aware of the needs of single moms than I’ll ever be,” I began. “You have compassion for others in your situation. Would it help to have a single mothers support group, a group of single moms who could speak openly, and be understood and cared for?”
“Why, yes,” she replied.
“Would you consider helping form a single mother’s support group?”
“Oh, no,” she said, overwhelmed. “I’m not good at that sort of thing. I wouldn’t know what to do.”
“Jeanette, you’ve not only described the plight of the single mother in a moving way, but you’ve also proposed several measures to meet their needs. We’ll certainly back you as a church if you’ll get together with other single mothers. Will you consider it?”
She did. I described her concerns during the next Sunday morning service, and several single mothers met with her afterward. The following Sunday morning she surveyed people in the church to discover who could offer single mothers some practical skills like plumbing, carpentry, and mechanics. She made her own announcement with a sparkle in her eyes, and our ministry with single mothers was off and running.
Apologize for the Church When It’s Wrong
When people have been hurt or offended by the church, extending a simple apology often goes a long way.
For many years I had counseled Sally through marital and parenting woes, financial difficulties, and other personal problems. We had become close, so when her attendance flagged, I stopped by for a visit. The conversation was unusually strained at first, but then she broke forth.
“I loaned the church my big coffee pot for the reception six months ago,” she began.
“Okay.” I vaguely remembered the incident.
“Well, someone dropped and broke it. No one has said a word since or tried to do anything about it, and all I’ve got for my generosity is a broken coffee pot.”
“Sally, I didn’t realize that.”
“That’s right,” she answered, looking as if she’d said something she’d wanted to say for a long time but was slightly embarrassed at finally having said it.
“I’m sorry. I wish I had known. That’s certainly not right for you to be stuck with a broken coffee pot.”
“And then, several weeks later, I had to move that big piano from upstairs to downstairs. I asked for help during a Sunday morning church service, and no one came. I certainly can’t move it by myself, so I had to go out and hire some men to move it. I thought the church was supposed to take care of its own,” she concluded with emphasis.
“Sally, I’m sorry at how the church has offended you. It sounds as if it has been a real disappointment.”
“Yes, I’ve felt hurt.” She paused, and her demeanor changed. “But I guess I didn’t have to sit around stewing in it. After all, I could have come to you with my concerns sooner.”
“But sometimes when we’re hurt it’s difficult to reach out to those who’ve hurt us. Sally, I’m sorry this has happened to you. You know how much we’ve been through together and how much Rebecca (my wife) and I love you. I’m sorry you’ve been hurt.” I extended my hand to her. “I don’t know what happened with the coffee pot,” I continued, “but I can assure you that we’ll either get it fixed or get you a new one.”
“Oh, it’s no big deal, really. It wasn’t new. It just seemed as if no one cared.”
I also apologized for the church’s lack of response to her plea for moving help. But by that time, it didn’t seem to matter; she’d said as much, in fact. Her hurt had been healed.
Relieve Unnecessary Guilt
Bob and Jennifer had come to our church as new Christians and had matured through its ministry. But every once in a while they’d make a wrong turn and get sidetracked by financial hardships or marital problems. They’d begin to complain, lay blame, and panic in the face of difficulties.
When they were in a down period, it was difficult to relate with them. They attended church less frequently, and when they came, they were polite but cool.
One night, several months into such a period, I dropped by their home. After we exchanged pleasantries, I plunged into deeper conversation: “You know, guys, it’s hard on me when things are not right between us.”
They looked at each other with mock surprise. Then Bob said, “What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong between us.”
“We both know that our relationship is strained. When we talk, I feel as if you’re holding up an invisible shield. That hurts. I love you two. You’ve meant a lot to me.”
Jennifer broke in, “You mean a lot to us too, Doug. We don’t have anything against you. It’s just that we’ve been going through …” She looked at Bob.
“I know you’re having some hard times. The economy isn’t in good shape, and I know your store is taking it on the chin. It just hurts me to see you hurting alone.”
“Well, Doug, we’re sick of our problems,” sighed Bob. “They get us down. We get depressed and even begin questioning God’s love for us. But we don’t want to complain. You’ve heard it all before. Why bother you with it again? We’ll be all right someday.”
“Do you feel I wouldn’t approve of how you’re handling yourself?”
“It’s pretty obvious that we’re letting it pound us into the ground,” said Bob. “It’s so frustrating. We’ve learned so much at this church, and we do okay for a while. Then something happens, and we’re back in the same pit. We know what we should do, but it’s like we’re helpless. We fall back into old habits: blaming, looking for an escape, and letting the tension strain our relationship.”
“The only thing I’m disappointed in is your blocking me out when you could use a friend,” I said. “I’m not thinking. When will the stupid Hales ever learn! I know your spiritual strengths and weaknesses. You’ve come a long way, but you still fall down every once in a while, as does every Christian. I don’t look down on you for that.”
They exchanged relieved glances at each other. We didn’t get into the nitty-gritty of their problems that evening. At that point, they simply needed to receive some grace.
Get the Offended to Talk with Their Offenders
Steve and Katy had stopped attending abruptly early in the summer, but it was well into the fall before I had an opportunity to sit down with them. When I asked about their absences, they pointed to a hectic schedule and sick children as the culprits. It didn’t ring true, so I probed more and began to hear a deeper story.
“Well, when that youth group was here for a concert …” Katy looked at Steve for permission to continue. He nodded. “We were working on the food committee to put together a meal before the concert. I suggested we have spaghetti and meat sauce since it’s easy to prepare and serve. The rest of the committee agreed, and we began planning. But at the next meeting, Margaret showed up and acted like the spaghetti idea was insane.”
That didn’t surprise me. Margaret can be painfully blunt at times, and sometimes the force of her personality overrides a group.
Steve took up the story. “When Katy came home, she was obviously upset. She felt that Margaret had been rude, and the rest of the committee hadn’t cared enough to deal with the issue. They just caved in to Margaret.”
“Katy, you must have felt humiliated by Margaret and betrayed by the rest of the committee,” I said.
“Yes, I did,” Katy replied, choked up. “It really hurt. I still helped with the dinner, but it took the joy out of going to church.” Then she sobbed.
“I think I would have felt pretty trampled on myself,” I added. “Did you talk with Margaret or any of the others about this?”
Katy said, “Oh, no. After all, the dinner did come off well. I didn’t want to cause any trouble.”
“But Katy,” I replied, “what happened to you is troubling. That’s not the way our church should function. We don’t want to pull off a good dinner and then have to do a body count later. You were mistreated, and I’m sorry. But I think we can use it, not only to right the wrong you suffered but to learn some important lessons about how to get along as a church.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to get the committee together again and talk about what happened,” I answered.
“Oh, no,” they said in unison. “We’d prefer not to make trouble. We’ll be okay.”
“But you’re not okay,” I responded. “You’ve had the joy taken from your church experience, you’ve avoided coming to church, and you’re hurt. It’s scary to actually talk about a problem. You know that from your marriage. But if you ignore problems, they just build and blow up all over you. It’s the same way with church relationships.”
Although reluctant, they finally agreed. It took some doing, but we got the committee together. Everyone was uncomfortable when I asked Katy to describe what had happened and how she’d felt. There was some awkward stirring as others listened, and then silence.
Finally Margaret spoke: “That’s just like me, taking over and doing it my way.” Her husband nodded knowingly as she continued. “I’ve caused my children no end of trouble by trying to run their lives. It’s been hard for me to learn that teenagers need room to maneuver. I guess, unknowingly, I’ve done the same thing at church. I can’t seem to help it. I just take over and assume that everyone will be happier doing it my way.”
Then she turned to Katy. “Katy, please forgive me. I didn’t mean to offend you.” When Katy moved to hug Margaret, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. We spent some time discussing what had happened and how we all could learn from the experience.
It doesn’t always work out this nicely, of course. This is a risky strategy that requires a certain level of spiritual maturity among church members. In the case of Steve and Katy, though, I’m happy to report that they returned to active participation and are blossoming as leaders in the church.
Accept Seasonal Inactives
People move to the Rockies for the mountains. They don’t move here to attend church. I sometimes forget that. But each season leaves different seats empty. During the ski season there are powder hounds who can’t imagine fresh snow without putting the first tracks in it. During the May fly hatch, some fishermen can’t tolerate being anywhere but in a river with a fly rod in hand. Summer brings camping, hiking, and backpacking season. The fall brings a zillion hunting seasons. In short, the call of the wild is sometimes stronger than the call of the church.
I used to get self-righteous about those who became inactive during such seasons. When someone would be absent for several Sundays, I’d imagine a spiritual crisis or apostasy. In a panic I’d call on these lost sheep. In some instances, I made my disapproval known, and I damaged a few relationships. I made it difficult for the wandering sinner to come back to the fold after the season was over.
Gradually, I learned that some people’s absence was only for a season. If I was patient and forbearing, they usually came back. When looking at their attendance over a period of years, I decided I would rather have people come regularly and then miss a few months each year than offend and lose them forever.
Give Permission to Attend Elsewhere
The Grants were an attractive couple with three children ranging from kindergarten through eighth grade. They were experienced church leaders who had been regular attenders and givers in their previous church. After they moved to our area, they attended our church regularly, joined, and began getting more and more involved. They appeared to be all a pastor could want in church members. Then their attendance flagged.
I visited them when they began missing regularly, but they didn’t mention any problems. Then I heard through the grapevine that they were dissatisfied. So I made another call.
Melissa received me as graciously as ever. The kids eagerly showed me their new toys. Finally, I came to the point: “We both know that something is wrong. You’re committed Christians, but you’ve not been coming lately. What’s going on?”
They began hesitantly and with the not unusual, “We just don’t feel like we’re getting fed.” I probed and asked what particularly they missed.
Phillip thought for a second and then said, “Your sermons are biblical, and you make good use of humor. But your sermons don’t go deep enough for us.”
“And we’re interested in the deeper Christian life,” Melissa interjected. She then named some nationally known preachers to illustrate what she meant. I knew immediately the type of preaching she was talking about, and, frankly, I enjoy such preachers myself.
When I asked them specifically what I should do to satisfy their needs, Phillip said, “We like a lot of cross-referencing in a sermon. You use contemporary illustrations more than you crossrefer from the Bible.”
“So you prefer more biblical support and insight for a particular point than contemporary illustration?” I questioned.
They seemed uncomfortable with my assessment but nodded. I kept probing like this until I recognized that the issue went deeper than sermon technique.
“I’m not sure my style of preaching would ever satisfy you,” I said. “That’s not necessarily an indictment on me or you. I believe people have different needs and even different learning styles. From what you’re telling me, I suggest you listen to Mike Nelson at First Baptist, Aspen. I suspect he might better minister to your needs. He’s a fine pastor, and they have a good church.”
They exchanged an embarrassed look. “We’ve already visited there,” Melissa confessed.
“Well, great!” I replied. “The last thing I want is for you to drop out of church involvement completely. I’m glad you’re looking for what you need spiritually. Of course, I’d prefer you didn’t leave our church. I’ve grown attached to you.”
They assured me about how much they enjoyed our church and me.
“But, I have no qualms about your being involved in Mike’s church,” I continued. “He’ll take good care of you, and I know you’ll be an asset to that church. The important thing is that we remain good friends. I’d hate to think you were leaving our church because you need a different style of preaching but were telling people it’s because our church isn’t spiritually mature.”
“Oh, no,” they assured me.
“We’re sorry to lose you if you end up elsewhere. But if that’s what you choose to do, you’ll have our blessing and continued friendship.”
“That’s our desire, as well,” Phillip added. “We were uncomfortable going elsewhere. We thought you’d think we were traitors. We didn’t want to be branded as bad guys and have people turn their backs on us.”
“Not that we’ve made that decision,” Melissa said. “We’re just praying about it and trying to follow the Lord’s will. But your visit has taken the pressure off.”
In fact, they did end up going to another church, and they’re doing well there. But that’s preferable to their (a) going to another church and badmouthing us to justify their decision, or (b) feeling guilty and not going to church at all.
With all these strategies available, one may wonder which is appropriate when and with whom. These many strategies are not, of course, mutually exclusive. More than one can be used with any one inactive. And experience in pastoral care goes a long way toward helping the pastor determine which is best in a particular case.
In the end, however, there are no hard-and-fast rules, because pastoral care to inactives is finally, like painting, an art. These strategies are merely the colors on our ministry palette.
Copyright © 1990 by Christianity Today
