Irony

I'd just published my post about my church turning fifty this weekend (see "She's Gold that Doesn't Glitter" below) when I got an email just moments later - literally. I want to share it with you. I'm on a distribution list at Willow Creek Church and the pastor their, Bill Hybels, sent this out:

Dear Enews Friends, Today is October 12. That might not mean much to most of you but for a small band of us it is a date we will never forget. It was on this day 32 years ago that a handful of people unloaded a truck outside the Willow Creek Theatre in suburban Chicago, took a deep breath and trusted that someone would show up for a church service. One hundred, twenty-five people did and we were thrilled! We were less thrilled when attendance dwindled to embarassing levels later on, but let's focus on the positive for now. That opening day is emblazoned on my mind. We worked ourselves into near exhaustion preparing the room. We cleaned, set up a few lights, patched a sound system together and pleaded with God to be gracious. One distinct memory that I carry is that I was not pleased with my sermon. We had all worked so hard and sacrificed so much and prayed so fervently...and then came the much anticipated inaugural message. Frankly, it was weak. I had never given a Sunday sermon before and it showed. The fact that anybody came back the next week is positive proof of the grace of God.

Bad preaching aside, October 12 was a watershed day for us. We had dreamed so intensely about starting an Acts 2 church. We had sold tomatoes door to door to raise the money to rent the theatre. Lynne and I had signed personally to pay for our tiny rented offices on Vermont Street. All of us in that core group had invited everyone we knew. And all of that activity culminated on that brisk, sunny day in early October.

Fast forward... I am sitting at a desk right now in downtown Moscow preparing to speak to hundreds of Russian pastors about the local church being the hope of the world. Wrap your brain around that irony. Three decades ago our two countries were squared off against each other with an intensity that threatened the existence of the entire human race. If you would have told me on October 12, 1975, that Willow would someday be a flourishing ministry on 200 acres of land, with state-of-the-art facilities and four regional campuses, I would have wondered what you were smoking. Further, if someone would have told me that we would be entrusted with a worldwide church renewal ministry that would train hundreds of thousands of pastors and church leaders all over the globe, I would have known for certain what you were smoking (and that you were inhaling!). And, if someone would have said that on October 12, 2007 I would be in Moscow preparing to train pastors at a Willow-sponsored event called The Global Leadership Summit, I may have been tempted to take a puff myself (but I would never have inhaled). All this to say that on this day I am undone by this whole thing God birthed in a movie theater. As I type this on my trusty BlackBerry, I fight off tears of sheer gratefulness that God included me in such an odyssey...words fail me. You should all know that the three buddies that sold tomatoes with me and worked every bit as hard as I did in those early days are still on staff at Willow--Joel Jager, Scott Pedersen and Tim VandenBos. True heroes who are rarely recognized but should be permanently inducted into Willow's Hall of Fame. Scores of others who were in the theater on that October day in 1975 are still serving in our church as well--Dr. B, Laurie Pedersen, Nancy Beach, Scott and Jan Troeger, Bruce Horgan...the list could go on. There are Elders and Board members who serve us today that found Christ in the tacky seats and sticky floors of the Willow Creek Theater. Who would have thought... Ecclesiastes 3:1 reminds us that there is a right time for every purpose under heaven. On this sunny morning in Moscow, it is the right time for me to sign off and fall to my knees and say for the ten thousandth time...Only God.

Happy Anniversary, Willow! Bill

Now let me be clear - I like Bill Hybels. I figure he's the worlds best actor or the "real deal" who has inspired lots of churches get out of their velvet ruts. I lean toward "real deal." I admire the work of Willow Creek and am thankful for all they've done. I've used various Willow curriculums and I've learned much about leadership from Hybels.

But let's be honest. There are thousands of unsung churches out there who do the good work of God week in and week out. There are capable and caring ministers out there who are giving it their all to 50 people, who live in parsonages that most of you readers wouldn't tolerate as housing. They preach masterful sermons, pray faithfully by sick-beds, and labor long among the poor. These churches and their pastors will not get national recognition, in fact most weeks the pastors will go without congregational recognition.

The problem is that our church culture in America has put so much stock in the mega-models that we now equate successful churches with places like Willow Creek and Lakewood. But there is more to being a successful church and successful pastors than the numbers.

I had lunch yesterday with nine other pastors here in Houston who shared, to a degree, this lament. We, to a person, were discouraged about our church's economic struggles and our institutional stability. We griped about our fatigue with denominational infighting. And, with only one exception, every pastor at the table described in some fashion how a mega-church had leeched away his church members. It reminded me of the small town business owners I knew when I owned a main street restaurant...they all bemoaned the arrival of Wal-Mart and what it would do to the small town economy.

"Consumer" religion is an easy target. After all, if restaurant chains that peddle crappy (but consistent) food in a Disney style atmosphere can make gads of money, it would make sense that a franchise style church should be equally successful in attracting people who go for the trendy comidas y bebidos. No slams here, just reality. Some people really like chain restaurants (I wonder if sociologists have cross-tabbed this: the percentage of Ruby Tuesday customers who go to a mega-church?).

But I think that perhaps "consumers" of religion are too easy a target. Perhaps we clergy-types have some burden of guilt, too. Careful self-examination will possibly bare the truth that it is often our ego's that drive much of this. After all, there is a lot of head-rush in being invited to preach or write because you have a large or growing congregation. There's a lot of "mine is bigger than yours" stuff going on at most pastors' meetings when the inevitable question comes, "What are you running?"

Worship attendance at my place hovers around 320, sometimes we hit 400. My answer to the question is always, "We have about 75 who are really committed." Inevitably, my church is the "smallest" and the other guys treat me better, more like an equal. And I like that, because i am their equal...but they wouldn't think so because they have 200 in worship.

I'm looking for some help here, because I'm sick of it being about the numbers. Tell me if you're bothered by these same things (Now the sarcasm kicks in):

• It's not really about us making ourselves popular through our preaching, it's really about "being relevant."
• It's not really about solidifying the church so we'll have a good paycheck, it's really about "giving to the kingdom."
• It's not really about wooing people and manipulating them with ear-teasing, it's really about "authentic conversation."
• It's not really about building a name for our preaching-selves, it's really about "spreading the word."

So, I'm gonna start making good on a promise I made to myself years ago. When I said "yes" to what I perceived to be an invitation from God to be a vocational minister I did so with two conditions:

1. I wouldn't be slick like all the other preachers. I'd be who I am, take me or leave me.
2. When it stops being fun, I'm getting out. I really mean "joyous" here b/c not everything in ministry is "fun," nor should it be.

In the last few years I've found myself polishing my words a little more carefully, trying to keep everyone in the church happy. And fun? This numbers thing isn't fun. And it isn't ministry. And lately, much of what we do in church isn't fun. But if I'm gonna survive in this work for an entire career - and that's questionable at this point - I'm going to stop pretending to be someone I'm not and I'm going to do those parts of ministry that I do best and bring me joy.

Anyone care to join me? Hey Hybels, you in? Hey Joel Osteen, want go to lunch next week and talk about what you're doing in ministry that brings you joy? Or how about you, regular church-going Christian? Do you have the guts to visit your pastor and say, "let's stop counting and start having fun/joy/meaning in ministry?"