This morning I had an epiphany. Maybe not so earth-shattering as most, but an epiphany none-the-less. For the past several years, I have been going through life thinking tangentially. In other words, rather than focusing on what is inside my circle, I have been paying more attention and giving far more importance than I should to the tangential things of life. In short, I have been following a never-ending line that I have absolutely no control or influence over. And it has been affecting my and the ministry in our churches.
This tangential way of thinking that I have been involved with concerns the state of the United Methodist Church (UMC), in particular, and the state of American Christianity in general. I'm sure that everyone is aware that our mainline denominations, including the United Methodist Church, have been bleeding members for the past several decades. According to the Wesleyan Christian Advocate, the official newspaper of the North and South Georgia conferences, the UMC lost one percent of its members during 2005-2006, and 40% of all churches reported not a single profession of faith. This translates into a loss of 70,000 members or 1,400 members per week. Forty years ago, the UMC had 12 million members. Today, we have less than 8 million members.
Now, stick with me. Here's the part where I start going tangentially. I grew up in the UMC. Granted, we weren't real regular church goers during my childhood, but we still went. And when I was in college, I continued to flirt with the Methodist Church from time-to-time. Finally, when I moved back to Georgia from the far-off land of Tennessee, my wife and I felt called to place membership in a rural Methodist Church with a membership of about 25 people or so.
When we walked in on that first Sunday, at the invitation of a friend, I quickly realized that, counting me, there were only three men in the whole place. A sea of women's faces greeted us, and even the pastor was a woman (a story for another post). Hardly what I expected, but probably not all that different from hundreds of other UMC churches on a given Sunday. As we joined this church and started worshiping there, a revival of sorts broke out. Not a fall-on-the-floor, slain in the Spirit, miraculous healing, 5,000 brought to Christ in a single day type of revival. But a revival none-the-less. As we worshiped there for the next two years, the church began to grow. A few people at a time, a man here or there, until the church reached a normal Sunday morning worship attendance of 100 people, with at least 40% of the church comprised of men.
Now, here's the interesting thing. At the same time this was happening, the UMC was in decline. At the same time this was happening, 40% of the UMC churches across the nation were not showing a single profession of faith. At the same time this was happening, pastors in the Valdosta District of the South Georgia Conference were coming back from annual conference, complaining about the lack of participation, the lack of committment, the mounds of paperwork, the latest insane requirement from the conference, etc. And, do you know what, those of us who were worshiping in that little rural church in south Georgia didn't care! We didn't pay it any attention. We were busy worshiping the Lord and bringing our neighbors to Christ and establishing outreaches and visitations and doing service projects for the elderly in our community. We could care less about the state or the fate of the UMC as a whole. We were serving God where we were to the best of our ability and He blessed our efforts!
After being in the church for a couple of years, I felt an insistent tugging to become a pastor. Finally accepting the call, after months of wrestling with God and denying it was happening, I entered the candidacy program, went to License to Preach School, and was appointed to be a local pastor at two small UMC churches. And, an important shift in my thinking occurred. Slowly but surely, I began thinking tangentially. I had never put much thought or concern about the UMC or the Valdosta District or the South Georgia Conference. I had heard about the Bishop, but no one I knew had actually ever seen him. But now, as a local pastor, I was suddenly inundated with paperwork for the conference, requirements to get reports in to the district, calls for special Sunday offerings, and was given a general awareness of the "connectedness" of the Methodist Church.
Needless to say, this was new ground to me. But, trooper that I am (tongue-in-cheek), I went ahead and tried to fulfill my requirements the best I could [I have that type of personality that allows me to gripe and complain while still getting all the paperwork in on time and completed to the best of my ability]. And, as time passed, I became more concerned with getting this stuff done. I became more concerned about our connections with other UMCs. I became more concerned about "The" Church. And, as I started trying to get all of the paperwork done and started trying to get all of my pre-work done for Course of Study and started trying to meet all of the demands of a part-time local pastor, my time and energy shifted from my original circle of life to the tangential line that was now touching that circle, the tangential line of the UMC.
And, truth be told, I let it envelope me. It became my all-in-all. It became my focus. I preached on the general evil of decline in the Methodist Church. I urged my members to do something, anything, to stop the decline. To bring people into the church. I berated them for not doing more. I tried to encourage them that, although small, they could make a difference. And they accepted it with humor and grace. Over time, as I bemoaned my situation to a fellow traveler on this path called "Christianity," I began to realize that I, perhaps, had begun to lose my first love.
I realized that I didn't worship at church anymore. As the songs were played, I would sing the words and think about what came next. I would look to see who was there and who was missing and wonder whether I should call them or not. I realized that I didn't read the Bible like I used to. Before, it had been a love letter to me. Now, it was a source for sermons. Before, I had spent quiet times in the presence of the Lord reading His word. Now, I had to put the Bible aside to get the paperwork done or the pre-work for Course of Study completed. I never had time to read the Bible or to read much of anything other than required texts (in fact, I have a stack of books in my room that is about four feet tall, filled with books that I bought and have not yet found time to read.). My first Love was gone, replaced by the UMC.
Just recently, I have become aware of this. We have been having a problem with a lack of attendance in our churches for the past six months. People have just not been committed. They have been indifferent, apathetic, and generally not willing to come and participate and volunteer at the various projects that we have been doing. In fact, we have had to cancel some activities that have been going on since the time of Adam and Eve (tongue-in-cheek!), simply because there was no interest this year. And as I have prayed about this, I have come to the conclusion that this is partly my fault.
We had a family decide to take a break from the church for several months because they didn't "have faith in the church" any longer. And that shook me to the core. Faith in the church? Is that what they were putting their faith in? Is that what I've been putting my faith in? Looking back, I would have to say, "Yes." The church, that tangential line, had become the most important thing in my life and in my preaching and teaching. It was less about bringing people to Jesus and more about the declining membership. It was less about God changing lives and more about the lack of committment. It was less about walking in faith than trusting in our budget built on last year's income.
The time has come, I think, to stop thinking tangentially. When my wife and I were members of that little rural church and not a pastoral family, we truly loved and worshiped the Lord. Our focus was not on the District, or the Conference, or the fate of the UMC. It was on God. And, I think, this is where it needs to be now. This is the circle. This is what is important. Not the tangential line. The circle of our life where God is, where God works, where God moves.
What would happen if all of us in the UMC, from the elders down to the local pastors, from the deacons to the laity in the pews, quit worrying so much about being connectional and realized that we are connectional, not because we are Methodists but because we are Christians formed by Christ into His body? What would happen if we truly realized that the Church is not the structure or the programs or the institutions of the Conference or the District, but that the Church was the people? What would happen if we quit worrying about what happened on a district and conference and national level and instead started putting our time and energy into being who God called us to be, where He called us to be, doing what He called us to do?
My experience is that this course leads to revival. At least it did when I was a member in my first local UMC church in over 20 years. And if a revival can break out in one church, it can break out in a hundred. If a revival breaks out in our congregation, if the people start focusing on God again, if the people become committed and have faith again, not in the church, but in the Lord, then that revival can spark other revivals and then the United Methodist Church can be revived as a whole. Not because we've wrung our hands about it. Not because we've spent any of our time and energy focused on it. But because we've gone back to our Wesleyan roots and preached Christ crucified and not "God save the church."
