Let the Church Die?

"Let the church die," the Rev. Dr. Eugene Peterson insisted. Though it was decades ago, I vividly remember the shocking, rhythmic refrain of his sermon delivered at my seminary graduation. Instead of hiring beauty queens or football stars to attract members, Peterson urged graduates to “let the church die."  At the time, I questioned why he focused on the church's demise before we had our chance to save it. Now I know.  


When faced with a pandemic that demanded sudden and dramatic change, the church’s response was nothing short of miraculous.  Congregations that previously had no online presence got one, and got it fast.  Refusal to embrace change and its inevitable growing pains has long been the church’s demise.  Our stubborn adherence to outdated polity and religious traditions is suffocating.  Why don’t Millennials and Gen-Xers make long term commitment to serve on our Sessions or Councils?  How can we operate a church if no one will commit to serving on a leadership board for three years? Such questions posed by an old guard stifle the creative work of the Spirit.  (I say this with affection as I am a member of the old guard.) 


By all accounts, membership in mainline churches has plummeted since the1950s, spurring all manner of frantic growth strategies. Some "woke" theologians insist that young people gave up on religion to search for "real" connections and ways to serve the greater good.  The spineless church cannot support their noble quest for social justice.  


A quick peak beyond our now empty pews reveals a broader, more complex phenomenon.  Declining congregations have plenty of company.  Long before the pandemic hit, subscriptions to the symphony, theater, and opera were in decline. The same is true for volunteer organizations such as the Rotary Club, the Lion's Club, and even bowling leagues.  Longer work weeks, shrinking paychecks, and extended families spread out across the globe, made it difficult for people to find time to commit to any organization.  


Throughout history, women worked behind the scenes to support congregational life.  With few opportunities for social interaction, women needed the church as much as it needed them —— until they didn't.  In the 1960s and 1970s a social earthquake liberated women from the shackles of ecclesiastical bondage. That patriarchal, oppressive church needed to die. Forced volunteerism does not a calling make.  At best, it makes for resentment, depression, anxiety and Valium prescriptions.   


The church has aways struggled to keep up with a changing world.  It had hardly figured out how to cope with its loss of female volunteers, when another social earthquake hit: the internet.  The 1990s ushered in an era that allows people to connect with something larger than themselves without leaving home.


Long dismissed as a deficient form of relational ministry, many churches did not maximize their online presence until they had no choice when the pandemic shut everything down.  Though we cannot gather in the sanctuary, we can still  share in rituals that celebrate life's joys, and provide comfort in seasons of grief. The church cannot offer such vital services if our fear of change is greater than our faith in a God who makes all things new.  Fear magnifies faults and fuels anxiety.  It points fingers and blames others when problems arise. It creeps into our minds and slams the door on faithful creativity that gives the Spirit room to breathe.  


No one can deny the sins of the church. Sadly, the loudest religious voices are often the meanest.  The Christians who show up in the news are usually racist, homophobic, sexist and intolerant of different belief systems.  The world is crying out for a church where diversity is celebrated.  Instead of turning a deaf ear to those protesting the fatal consequences of systemic racism, the church would do well to listen and learn and change.  


Truth be told, the church can live without a building, a dynamic youth program, or powerful preaching.  It can even live without money.  But the church cannot thrive without the faith and love of its members.   With faith and love, we can fashion a life from a mess of personal failures, heartbreak and loss. Faith is the backbone that allows the body to rise up and stand for divine justice.  It bridles fears.  It rejects frantic growth plans that reduce a the church to a theater of the absurd. Faith will let a congregation die so God can create a new one.  We can only hope that the pandemic kills the 1950s church once and for all so that the Spirit can be unleashed, and the church can be fully alive. 


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