THE SMALL CHURCH — THE SMALL PRESBYTERY

For too long, the institutional church remained focused—if not fixated—on the large church. Ministry models were adaptations of large church programs. Pastoral leadership instruction centered on the skills a large church would need. Mission came from large church outreach efforts. But the church changed, becoming a body of small congregations (<300). 80% or more congregations in any mainline denomination are small. Large church paradigms do not fit and are, by and large, irrelevant to life in small parishes. 

The implications for Mid-Councils within the PC(USA) are staggering. The average size of a PC(USA) congregation (based on 2016 statistics) is 157 members. That means there will be less people, less financial support, and a smaller base from which to build program, mission, and ministry. It becomes easy to focus on scarcity, conservation, and cutbacks instead of finding the energy and impetus to rebuild, reform, and retool.

But there is an alternative. Rather than being seen as a deficiency, we should maximize the strengths and gifts of the small church. Doing so enables us to find the necessary vision and intentionality to reboot our system, so to speak. It offers us a chance to emphasize community over institution, personal engagement over administration, and embodied compassion over impersonal service. What follows are some ways to do that.

BEING WHAT WE ARE

For decades, the PC(USA) followed a corporate model as an institution. Pastoral excellence was defined as professional refinement. In large churches, the Senior Pastor was effectively a CEO, managing a staff of well-trained, highly educated people specifically prepared for work in one of many ministries provided by the church. Like a company, each staff member was expected to oversee one major area of church life. That meant a church might have a pastor for business administration, a pastor for congregational care, a youth pastor, a mission pastor, a minister of music (often leading a choir with paid section leaders), a minister of education, etc. The goal was to present a pristine program exuding professionalism. 

Smaller churches assumed they had to somehow present the same thing on a smaller scale, but, of course, ran into the limitations of budget, the ability to attract professional experts, and people within the congregation who simply did not share the affirmation of a professional sheen over being simply who they were. Churches could despair over not being able to meet such high marks. However, many thrived because they eschewed the pressure from their bigger cousins to be like them, instead, choosing to be who they were—small, family run communities. What they lacked in polish, they made up in communal connection. Authenticity, then, is expressing who a church actually is, instead of trying to fit an artificial paradigm. Pastors were respected for being consistent in being who they were in the pulpit and in the community. 

For example, the church I served in Charlotte, while not small, organized itself like a small church. Its core was a community of four intertwined, interconnected farm families. The church program and mission was organized like a family—members would suggest ideas they liked, and the Session would nurture and encourage those that seemed to fit the outlook of the church family. There was a lot of table talk before decisions were made, as each member of the family got a chance to speak. Things like neighborliness, kindness, and “this is what nice folk do” drove choices rather than presenting perfect, glistening performance. Visitors came and wanted to be a part of things because it felt like “home.” Participation was expected, just like a healthy family expects members to help out with the maintenance of the household. No, the choir may not have sounded like a symphony chorus, but they sang in love for the church. The staff need not be as expert, but they needed to be able to lead in compassion, welcome, and warmth. In short, work and worship were acts of love, not performance. 

Presbyteries reflected the professional veneer of the larger congregations. EPs were just that—executives. Their job was to manage the regional offices of the corporate entity of the denomination, funneling resources, programs, and schemes from national headquarters to the churches. The presbytery itself was a professional organization charged with maintaining the high standards for member clergy and to provide networking to allow interoffice communication, vocational exchange, promotion for national programs, and maintenance of the corporate structures. 

That broke down as presbyteries were home to fewer and fewer corporate churches. What was done became increasingly irrelevant for the member congregations. Outside models for ministry and congregational life seemed completely artificial. Moreover, it became more difficult for member congregations to meet the demands from on high for funds, people, and resources to keep regional and national institutions staffed and viable. They weren’t large enough to do so. Pastors became more isolated as their experience in smaller churches didn’t seem to match the glories of the professional pastors in larger churches. This twofold alienation from the institution—congregational and pastoral—led to much of the resentment aimed at General Assembly and the presbyteries. As the Assembly began to stress implementation of progressive agenda items like reformed stances on sexual orientation, gender inclusivity (i.e., the demand for an increased role for female professionals), and racial-ethnic inclusivity; there was a backlash from churches and pastors who already felt out of touch with the larger bodies of presbytery and the General Assembly. It was as much a breakdown in relationalism as it was politics. The initiatives from Louisville seemed completely out of touch with life in the parish and evidence that the institution really did not care for the individuals trying to do the work of ministry. 

Therefore, if a presbytery is to remain relevant, then it must meet the people where they are, so to speak. That means letting go of “on high” program and mission, in exchange for grass roots thinking and imagination. Here we find the working definition of authenticity for a presbytery. Rather than assuming the institution knows best, we instead need to intently listen to what member congregations and pastors see as their own vision for their own small communities based on their actual, real experience within those congregations. As a Mid-Council, we need to focus not on the providing of the tools and kits for professional programs developed elsewhere, but instead collecting and distributing what real people need to do to do real work—in other words, provide the tools asked for, instead of assuming what is needed. That means staffing committees with people from the local churches acknowledging that they bring the ideas, vision, and purpose for ministry with them, instead of seeing them only as students to be taught the right way to do the work. Presbyteries then become what they are rather than trying become someone else’s vision for them.