Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Death of the Consumer Church, pt. 3: A Better Apparatus

 It was a very exciting time for a Associate Pastor of Adult Ministries. He had been launching evangelistic programs and services for years, all of which failed to gain momentum, but this one seemed to have unprecedented potential. He had a good team of energetic seminary students that shared his vision, and everyone would work to produce a Saturday-night service geared toward young families. It quickly evolved into, in essence, a church plant that met within its own mother church’s facility.

Among the seminary students, the main teaching pastor was an eloquent speaker and aspiring shepherd. The worship pastor was experienced, passionate, and also a technological genius. I was their service producer.

It was my chance. Having just graduated from a Conservatory of Music, and enjoying how my seminary studies were informing my creativity, I brought a wagonload of ideas for what new and exciting elements could contribute to a truly worshipful and God-glorifying experience, and it was thrilling to see some of my visions come to fruition.

This young church plant, however, for lack of attendance, was put to rest after less than two years.

Why? The explanation is complex, but not unreasonable: miscommunication, leadership turnover, and the financial struggles of the mother church. It’s not as if my creative ideas were unappreciated . . . by the few people that attended the services. But I did learn an important lesson with the sinking of that ship:

“Attractive services” have their limits.

That is to say, that services that build themselves to attract “seekers” purely by gaudy production and sometimes theological and ecclesiological compromise are largely failing in their strive, as particularly evidenced by my experience. Originally, when I typed that last sentence, I really wanted to downright say that “attractive services” don’t work. But I can’t speak for everyone.

I don’t say this to be insensitive. It was a tough lesson for me, too, because this was pertaining to the very job description of my own seeming future. Our church, however, was ten minutes away from a famous venue that hosted people like Tony Bennett, Jennifer Hudson and Yo-yo Ma. A composer-in-residence that owned his own recording studio attended the mother church. What would I have to offer for programming in a church service that would “attract” someone in such a pre-dominantly secular and elitist community?

Let me say it again: “attractive services” have their limits.

What seemed the best apparatus for growing a healthy church (and what we largely didn’t have) was the excited congregation member. We needed people that saw our little runt of a church, despite its flaws, as a God-blessed family. We needed people that believed in our church family’s potential to touch our hurting towns and change lives so much that they invited all their friends to be a part of this church family. These “seekers” would be impressed, not so much by the attempted pizazz of the service production or the seeming relevance of the sermon, but more so by the loving and giving lifestyle and of the obviously-close community that is the church family, operating both in and out of the building where they meet once a week.

This is the mark of a disciple, and it’s what we can offer amid far more impressive concerts and productions. It’s, unfortunately, what the consumer church has lost. The stereotypical consumer church looks to attract into the doors with impersonal means, offering sometimes unreasonable amenities. Attendants of a consumer church can take a drive-thru and comment-card approach, having no independent desire to volunteer or serve. After all, that’s what the pastors are for, right?

When Simon Peter wrote to Christians, calling them a “holy priesthood,” he wasn’t just referring to the leaders.

This, to me, is the most burdensome effect of the consumer church: the pastors are left to do the work that should also be done by congregation members (e.g. evangelism, discipleship, hospitality, community-building and other forms of service and leadership).

The consumer church has made the church (and everything it stands for) into a product that we need to sell in order to raise our numbers. The New Testament has a much different vision of how the church family is to healthfully exist, grow and reach. It involves more sacrifice and grace, but its rewards far outweigh what . . . really shouldn’t be considered “costs” at all.

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