First United Methodist Church, Birmingham, Michigan
Scripture: Isaiah 51:15, John 4:31-38
Several years ago, I came across an incredible story. Then in April it showed up again in a sermon by Brian Bauknight who preaches to a congregation in the suburbs of Pittsburgh. I have been assured that it is true, even though it has a certain absurd quality to it. It is the story of a 33-year-old truck driver from Los Angeles, a man named Larry Walters. Larry lived in one of those neighborhoods where all of the houses look alike and where all the yards are surrounded by chain link fences. Every Saturday afternoon, Larry had a ritual. He would sit in a lawn chair, consume a six pack of beer, and relax for a couple of hours. Then one Saturday Larry got a bright idea….most likely after consuming the six pack. He decided he would tie some helium balloons to his lawn chair and float himself several feet above his neighbors’ yards.
It should be noted that Larry was a truck driver, not an engineer. Therefore, he was unsure of how many balloons it might take to elevate him above the rooftops. So he purchased 45 weather balloons and filled them with helium. Then he packed some sandwiches and a six pack of beer, adding a BB gun so he could shoot out one or more balloons if he got too high. Then, with the help of neighbors, he tied the balloons to the lawn chair.
At the appropriate signal, the neighbors let go. Larry immediately shot up 11,000 feet. He was so frightened that he never got a chance to shoot any of the balloons with his gun. He was too busy holding onto the lawn chair. Providentially, he was spotted by the pilot of a DC 10, coming into Los Angeles International Airport. The pilot radioed the tower that there was a man in a lawn chair at 11,000 feet, and that he had a gun. Planes were immediately rerouted around the area where Larry was floating. Rescue craft were then sent up and eventually got him down.
He was immediately surrounded by reporters asking him: “Were you scared?”
His reply was an emphatic: “No!”
“Would you do it again?”
Again, an emphatic: “No!”
Which led to a third question: “Why did you do it in the first place?”
To which Larry replied: “Well, you can’t just sit there.”
And he’s right, you know. You can’t. Which can be taken as a warning to individuals. But which should also be taken as a warning to institutions. Which is why last year….on this day….from this place….to this church….I issued a challenge. It came in the form of a goal. A growth goal. A membership goal:
3001 by 2001
In that sermon, I gave a lot of “whys” and a few “hows.” I talked about “slippage” in mainline denominations….in our denomination….in other large Birmingham area churches….and in our church. Then I dared to suggest that this was unacceptable to God, and should not be acceptable to us.
But I don’t want to dwell on that message today. If you missed it….forgot it….or heard it, but didn’t quite get it….you can find copies in the narthex under the title “Bugles In the Afternoon.” Take it home and read it. That way, I can focus on the things that have happened since.
1. That sermon launched a church-wide conversation.
2. That conversation led to a unanimous endorsement of the goal at last December’s Charge Conference.
3. That endorsement mandated the formation of a task force in January….17 members….meeting monthly.
4. That task force studied a number of things including scripture, history, demographics and other churches.
5. Eventually, the task force was split down the middle, with one group working on what George Bush used to call “the vision thing.”
6. Simultaneously, the second group farmed itself out to the Membership and Evangelism Work Area, helping to create a strategic action plan for evangelism.
7. Collectively, we ignited a “jump start” for Pentecost, pitching a tent on the front lawn and receiving 80 new adult members in the sanctuary.
8. And in one year (September–September) we raised our membership from 2652 to 2789 (up from 2477 in 1992).
In short, “this old ark’s a moverin’,” as the song lyric says. But there are lingering questions that remain in many of your minds….questions of quantity versus quality, statistics versus spirit, and figures versus faith. Even though I said in last year’s sermon:
Some will say: “Ritter, the goal should be spiritual, not statistical….missional, not institutional. It should be about making disciples, deepening faith, serving the world….that sort of thing.” I couldn’t agree more. But I contend that we will not grow if we do not do these things, and we will not deserve to grow if we fail in any of these things. There is a lot of hunger out there. People are seeking to understand their lives and to give their lives away. And they will gravitate to any church which helps them do both….at a level that is deep rather than shallow, in response to a imperative that is stringent rather than soft.
For I have never bought the argument that, where churches are concerned, small is automatically pure. Most growing churches I have seen have also been giving churches, searching churches, and serving churches. While most downsizing churches have been (for the sake of their survival) naval-gazing churches.
But for those who missed it then….and, perhaps, even now….let me be clear. This goal is about depth as well as breadth. And this goal has as much to do with commitment as it has to do with membership.
Toward that end, we have added Carl Price to an already talented staff. And Carl is about to launch six new Disciple Bible Study groups which will involve nearly 100 people.
Toward that end, we have hired Dick Cheatham (for 12 weeks out of the year), who will help us erase the scandal of marrying people we haven’t properly prepared for marriage, while helping us study our natures, our personal gifts and the meaning of our most important relationships.
And toward that end, the University of Life has now become year-round rather than three weeks in January, along with burgeoning opportunities for adults, youth and children (exemplified by nearly 300 kids at this year’s Vacation Bible School, and a spectacular Youth Encounter Weekend which is going on, at this very moment, with over 100 teens).
But let me back away and frame the issue of deepening commitment differently. Let me introduce to you what I call the “five constituencies of First Church”….each beginning with the letter “C” (community, crowd, congregation, committed, and core).
Community….the out-there-somewhere people. These are the unchurched or the casually churched.…the used to be’s, or never were’s. Some of whom are openly hostile to the faith. Others of whom are quietly indifferent to the faith. Still, we will serve them….in large part by opening our doors to them. We will meet them when times are hard (through programs related to hunger, hopelessness, addiction and divorce, not to overlook grief and funerals….meaning that we will bury them). And we will meet them when times are happy (as when they come to hear a concert, see a play, shop for rummage, or march to the altar….meaning that in addition to burying them, we will also marry them). We probably won’t beat down their doors. But we will make sure that our doors are visibly and comfortably open.
Crowd….the occasionally-here people….the Christmas, Easter, and when-the-kids-need-a-little-water-on-their-heads people. Those in “the crowd” may consist of members or non-members…. believers or non-believers. Do they truly worship on the occasions when they’re here? Darned if I know. But they can watch the rest of us worship. Who knows, it may be contagious. As concerns this group, we will make room for them….and encourage them….but will probably not set our entire agenda around them. Hopefully, something will strike them and they will take a step or two in the direction of greater involvement.
Congregation….the names-on-the-roll people. These are the folks who show up more often and eventually “join the church.” Quite apart from the question of what they believe (which can be worked on), they are united in a desire to belong (which can be rejoiced in). They could be doing more, much more. They probably aren’t. But if faith is a “road trip,” these folks are ripe for movement (if we can convert them from marking time to march time).
Committed….the serious-about-their-faith people. These are folk who are growing, learning, praying and making steady progress toward tithing. If asked, they are likely to define the word “church,” not by where it is they go, but by what it is they do. While we can certainly do a lot for these people, we can do even more with them. Obviously, there is a need to move more congregants to (and through) this circle.
Core….the committed-to-finding-their-ministry people. One thing unites them. Whatever be their talent, they have identified it and matched it to a need. It may be teaching or singing. It may be counseling or cleaning. It may be filling communion cups (or baking communion bread). But concerning each and every ministry of the church, these are those who say: “If it’s going to be, it’s up to me.” Praise God for the core.
Five C’s. Five circles. Five constituencies. Which would seem to suggest five strategies. Jesus, himself, acknowledged differing levels of commitment, tailoring his work to each. To Peter and Andrew at the outset, he said: “Come and see” (as in “check it out”). To Peter and Andrew three years later, he said: “Take up your cross if you would be my disciples.” Jesus didn’t use the same approach with everybody. Instead, he welcomed the community, fed the crowd, gathered the congregation, challenged the committed and discipled the core (which may have been as few as 12, or as many as 70….although some of you don’t like it when I use numbers).
So what are we about? All of the above. That’s what I think we’re about. Which may be a stretch. For while it does not imply being all things to all people, it certainly suggests the need to be a lot of things to many people. And that’s hard to do.
Lyle Schaller talks of the difficulty of being a “Saturday Evening Post church.” Which needs a bit of explaining. Once upon a time, America’s major magazines were general audience magazines, meaning that each issue had something for every taste. There were stories. There were features. There was news and sports. There was fashion stuff and kid’s stuff. There was a humor page. And there was generally a serialized novel. These magazines had names and logos that were recognizable in every living room. You had your Look. You had your Life. You had your Colliers. And you had your Saturday Evening Post.
Now you don’t have any of them. What you have is niche magazines for narrow markets. You have 10 different magazines for boaters. And the same is true for knitters, auto racers and gun collectors. As concerns teenage girls, there are three entirely unique and different magazines. One is for girls 12-14. One is for girls 15 and 16. And as for the magazine Seventeen, that pretty much speaks for itself.
But we are a Saturday Evening Post church….meaning something for everybody….in a world that no longer has a Saturday Evening Post. Like I said, it’s a stretch sometimes.
But let’s add two other considerations before putting this thing to bed. First, my role in all of this. What is it? I suppose I’m a mixture of catalyst, coach, communicator and cheerleader. One thing I must not be, however, is a wet blanket….as in a “dampener of spirits” (human and Holy). Like physicians, preachers should first “do no harm.” But you’d be surprised how many preachers kill the very churches they are appointed to serve.
Which explains, in a perverse way, why I like the story of the preacher who went to the bedside of a seriously ill parishioner named Fred, only to have the patient (in the process of his visit) begin coughing, choking and gasping for air. While thrashing wildly about, Fred reached for a pencil, grabbed a pad, scribbled a message, handed it to the preacher, and died. His preacher folded the message and slipped it in his pocket. Four days later, while conducting Fred’s funeral, he remembered he was wearing the same suit he had worn to the hospital that fateful day. Feeling in his coat pocket for Fred’s last words, he told those gathered for the service of this little epistle…. saying that while he had neglected to read it at the time, he was sure that Fred would want it read now. So opening the paper and speaking without thinking, he read Fred’s last words to the assembled mourners: “Pastor, you’re standing on my oxygen tube.”
Which is the last thing in the world I want to do, here or anywhere. I think most of you know that. And I think most of you trust that. But there’s still a few of you who, while claiming to like what you’ve seen, remain nervous about what you haven’t seen. You are afraid that I have a secret card hidden up my sleeve, just waiting for some unsuspecting moment to lay it on you. Relax. I don’t. What you see is who I am. What you see is what you get. What you see is all there is. Change, when it comes, will come as it has already come…in ways more evolutionary than revolutionary….and more likely by addition than by subtraction.
In fact, some of my more effective efforts hardly even show. Every other place I’ve been, we’ve built a building. Here, we are refurbishing one (from the inside out). In the last five years, we have replaced 153 windows, an air conditioning system and an outdated boiler. All the second floor classrooms are new, with plans to follow suit on the first floor next summer. In the midst of it all, there have been upgrades to the parking lot, the landscaping, the Media Center, the Children’s Chapel, the Wright and Thomas Parlors, along with the computer network. And as of last Wednesday night’s Trustee meeting, you can add an elevator, a handicap restroom, and some hallway reconstruction outside the narthex (the better to get you in and out of the sanctuary without being trampled).
Throw in $750,000 for endowment (in less than three years) and you’ve got a cool $2.1 million…. with no special appeal….no capital campaign….and no per-member assessments. But in those same five years, outreach giving (beyond our doors) has exceeded that figure by 20 percent. As well it should. And as well it will.
But my role pales before God’s role in all of this. Because this is God’s piece of work….both by holding up a yardstick while offering up the Spirit. As concerns the yardstick, consider the measurement of fruitfulness. God expects us to bear fruit.
· “You did not choose me; I chose you, and appointed you to bear fruit.” (John 15:16)
· “We pray this in order that you may please the Lord in every way, bearing fruit in every good work.” (Col. 1:10)
· “This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit. In this way you will show yourselves to be my disciples.” (John 15:8)
· “Therefore I tell you the Kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people who will produce….(you guessed it)….fruit.” (Matt. 21:19)
Fifty-five times the Bible speaks of “fruit”….alternating between “fruit” as the numerical growth of the church and “fruit” as the byproduct of a committed spirit.
But God’s yardstick can be met by the church, because God’s Spirit is offered to the church. Only God can make the church grow (I Cor. 3:6). “Only God can churn up the sea so that its waves roar” (Isaiah 51:15). So what’s that about?
The title of today’s sermon is “Catching the Wave.” It comes, of course, from the sport of surfing. About which I know nothing. But every good surfer knows that the one thing he or she cannot do is create a wave. The best that he or she can do is get in position to catch one, once it appears. A lot of books on church growth fall into the “how to build a wave” category. Which can’t be done. Waves are not built by churches. Waves are ridden by churches. God sends them. We ride them. That’s how it works.
Now I will concede that not every time is a propitious time for every church. And not every place is a propitious place for every church. But, if I read it right, this is a propitious time and place for this church. If I can mix a metaphor, the fields are ripe unto harvest (John 4:35) and we are seeing wave after wave of people who are suddenly and strangely receptive to the Gospel.
But you can’t surf without a board. And you can’t surf unless you wade into the water with your board. And you can’t surf if you turn your back on the waves that are rolling, because they don’t resemble the waves that used to be.
But let’s get out of the water and dry off, just long enough for this. My friend, Rod Wilmoth, who preaches at Hennepin Avenue UMC in Minneapolis, tells about the day he went walking in Cincinnati in search of a Methodist church he knew to hold great historic significance. After walking several blocks, he found it. It was set off by a wrought iron fence. But where grass had once grown, there was nothing but dirt. And the doors, which featured gray peeling paint, had clearly seen better days. What’s more, the doors were locked. Just about the time Rod turned to leave, a man dressed in an outfit that resembled the doors came around the corner and said: “What do you want?” He turned out to be the church sexton. So Rod explained that he was a United Methodist preacher who hoped he might see the church. The sexton snarled, “It’s locked,” before adding: “Well, if somebody sent you to see it, I guess I can unlock it and let you in.” But let Rod finish the story.
So on that cheerful note, I was led into the church. It was the dreariest thing I had ever seen. I said: “Who comes here on Sunday morning?” He said: “Hardly anybody. If it wasn’t for visitors, we wouldn’t have anybody at all.” But then he took me downstairs where we rambled around. Finally showing a little animation, he said: “If you have a minute, I’d like to show you something. Just stay right here.”
He walked down a corridor and vanished into the darkness. Pretty soon a light came on and I could see him standing at the entrance to some kind of tunnel. He motioned for me to come. I walked to the end of the hallway and stepped into the tunnel. The concrete ended and I was standing on dirt. Once I got accustomed to my surroundings, I could see that the walls were also dirt. But the ceiling was reinforced concrete. Then the sexton asked: “Do you know where you are right now?” To which I said: “No sir, I don’t.” He said: “You’re standing in the old church cemetery.” Sure enough, I looked around and saw the indentations in the walls where the caskets had been. Then he explained: “A few years ago the city made us get off-street parking. We didn’t have any place to do it except behind the church….and that was the cemetery. So we removed all the caskets, poured reinforced concrete, and that’s our parking lot above your head.” Then, with great excitement, he walked over to the wall and his hand disappeared in one of those long, dark recesses. When it reappeared, he was holding the remains of a human leg bone. Walking up to me and holding it in front of my face, he said: “Isn’t this the most exciting thing you have ever seen?”
Well, I hope not. I pray not. And I will work to high heaven to make sure that, in this church, it is not. But how about you? What excites you? Is it the bleached bones of yesterday….the lawn chairs and six packs of Saturday….or the Spirit-cresting waters of the present day?
Get on board, my friends. This old ark’s a moverin’. And the surf’s up.
Note: The concept of “five constituencies” is drawn from Rick Warren’s book on Saddleback Community Church entitled The Purpose Driven Church. If memory serves me correct, the phrase “If it’s going to be, it’s up to me” was coined by Robert Schuller. Lyle Schaller discusses the concept of the Saturday Evening Post Church in many of his writings. And I am indebted to my wife, Kristine, and my good friend, Ann Windley, for finding old issues of America’s general audience publications. As for Rod Wilmoth and Brian Bauknight, they are esteemed colleagues holding down great pulpits. As is the case with Errol Smith, who made sure that I had Brian’s story available to me.
