Evangelical churches must understand that making the Church relevant through trying to “meet people where they are” is a valid philosophy to attract numbers. But, it is a flawed approach when numbers become the end in and of itself. Relationship should take precedence over the spectacle.
(via RELEVANT Magazine – Church Shopping)
Apparently I saved this quote a while back so I could write about it. And now, here I am, writing about it, I guess.
Numbers don’t make for a good church. You can have a big church that is good, but it gets harder and harder as it grows. I’m a missionary’s kid, so I’ve been to my share of churches. And, let me tell you, the big ones where they buy up a city block to run all their programs and services were almost always the ones that frustrated me. And the small ones with a loyal, long-time congregation were the ones where you felt like a family.
I don’t know what the evangelical fascination with numbers is all about; especially with its lack of hierarchy, it only opens up the possibility for trouble once leadership is too small to manage everyone on a first-name basis.
And that’s all I have to say about that.
Apologies at my slowness at getting back to the blogging board. It turns out that two and a half weeks of vacation make getting back into good habits a difficult endeavor. It’s not much help that my girlfriend is visiting this week, too. Not that I’m complaining.
While I get my head back on straight, enjoy this quote from the always-intriguing David Dark from an article in the latest issue of Relevant Magazine. And, once again, file it with that topic that I’ve talked about many times.
If we think we have faith, because we faithfully protect ourselves from anything that might call it into question — as if God is counting on us to keep ourselves stupid, closed off to the complexity of the world we’re in — I’d like to argue that we don’t have faith in God at all. We have faith in our own faith rather than the God who transcends it, faith in a faith that will somehow save us. Not faith in God, but faith in a false god of our own conceptions, a god too afraid to entertain a question or a doubt.
If we think certainty is what drives success and, in the end, the very faith (so-called) that saves us, our honest confusion will become a source of shame and a sign of weakness. We keep our honest doubts hidden. As I understand it, this is precisely where the biblical urges what I’m tempted to call a mandatory agnosticism. This is where we’re summoned to know that we don’t know. This is where we’re called to confession, not self-congratulation.
I like calling myself an agnostic about things. It’s become a loaded word, so I use it in defiance more often than not. But, despite my own rebellious tendencies, it’s a word we could all learn and use more often.
