A friend wrote to me recently from another part of Canada, and her message made me both sad and angry. Here’s what she said:
I attended an Anglican Church on Sunday in the small town where I live. I was with two friends who were new to Anglican services. I thought to myself, no wonder this church is in trouble. They have absolutely no sensitivity to the fact there might be visitors here. No explanations of what they’re doing, how to engage. Strange things like singing, “Don’t sweep me away with the sinners” repeatedly during a Psalm. No explanation of what to do during communion. Frazzled juggling of books and bulletin, with the occasional mistake in printing so you were completely lost. Sometimes giving page or hymn numbers from the front, sometimes not. I would never have gone back, and I’m a lifelong Christian.
“Ah,” you say. “That’s terrible. I’m so glad our church isn’t like that. We are a very friendly congregation.” But wait a minute.
Not long ago, I attended an Anglican church with a reputation for being very friendly. Were they friendly? Absolutely. During the passing of the peace, there were many hugs, handshakes, and even conversations. Not with me, mind you, but they were certainly happening. Over coffee afterward, there was animated conversation around the tables. You could tell what a warm, friendly community it was. It was lovely to watch. I just stood with my coffee, not quite sure what to do, and certainly not wanting to interrupt anything. I read every one of the notices on the noticeboard. Some more than once. There were obviously a lot of interesting things going on in this congregation. Fascinating. After about fifteen minutes, I gave up. I felt I had gotten a good impression of why that church had a reputation for being friendly. Have I been back since? Well, what do you think? They were friendly. But only to one another. And that’s the problem.
It’s not terribly reassuring to know that this is not only an Anglican problem, but it does seem to afflict other traditions. I have a friend who is a congregational consultant in his denomination and is often called in to help churches that are in trouble. At a conference where he was a speaker, he announced, “I have been to four congregations of this denomination in recent weeks, and in none of them was I welcomed.” Over coffee afterward, one pastor came up to him and said, “I hope you will visit our church soon. I think you will find it very different.” “And which is your church?” asked my friend. The pastor told him. “Ah yes,” replied my friend, “yours was the third of those I was talking about.”
Why this matters
If these were not churches, this might not be a big deal. If you were checking out a bridge club, and everybody ignored you because they were chatting with their friends, well, that would be sad. You probably wouldn’t go back, and it would be no big deal. But welcoming and bridge don’t have any intrinsic connection. As far as I know, there’s nothing about bridge that means you are an inauthentic bridge player if you don’t welcome new people. I suspect you could be a real jerk and still be a brilliant bridge player, though I would be happy to be corrected.
But church is not like a bridge club. (You heard it here first.) So often our problems in church come back to the basic question: What is a church? And then a second question: What exactly is church for? I believe at its heart church is a gathering of people who have responded to the call of God, to be apprentices of Jesus, learning to live as God’s people, in God’s world, in God’s way.
To put it another way, we learn God’s way from Jesus. Thus, we see in Jesus the forgiveness of God, so we look to practice forgiveness. We see Jesus’ compassion for the marginalized, the needy, and the sick, so we seek to practice those things. And so on. Hence, St Paul can call us “the Body of Christ,” a community deliberately dedicated to showing the character of Jesus in the world. This is one of the ways people encounter the reality of God’s love in their lives.
If you are following my argument, you can see where it’s going next. Here it comes: In Jesus, we see the welcome of God. God welcomes us into the family with open arms, regardless of who we are or what we have done, just like the father welcoming the prodigal home. One of the ways we respond to that welcome of God is to turn around and, in our turn, offer that welcome to others. St. Paul spells it out: “Welcome one another, as God in Christ has welcomed you!” (Romans 15:7)
This means that being a welcoming community is not just a nice thing; nor is it just an effective way to encourage new people to stick around. No, if we do a good job of welcoming people, what they will experience is actually a real-life touch of the welcome of God. They will feel the welcome of God in our welcome. In that sense, welcoming is sacramental, and those who welcome are sacramental ministers. And if we fail to welcome them—well, I am sure God is quite capable of finding another way to welcome them. But we are failing to do the very thing the church exists for. As my friend said, “No wonder this church is in trouble.”
The Unfriendly “Friendly Church”
A friend wrote to me recently from another part of Canada, and her message made me both sad and angry. Here’s what she said:
I attended an Anglican Church on Sunday in the small town where I live. I was with two friends who were new to Anglican services. I thought to myself, no wonder this church is in trouble. They have absolutely no sensitivity to the fact there might be visitors here. No explanations of what they’re doing, how to engage. Strange things like singing, “Don’t sweep me away with the sinners” repeatedly during a Psalm. No explanation of what to do during communion. Frazzled juggling of books and bulletin, with the occasional mistake in printing so you were completely lost. Sometimes giving page or hymn numbers from the front, sometimes not. I would never have gone back, and I’m a lifelong Christian.
“Ah,” you say. “That’s terrible. I’m so glad our church isn’t like that. We are a very friendly congregation.” But wait a minute.
Not long ago, I attended an Anglican church with a reputation for being very friendly. Were they friendly? Absolutely. During the passing of the peace, there were many hugs, handshakes, and even conversations. Not with me, mind you, but they were certainly happening. Over coffee afterward, there was animated conversation around the tables. You could tell what a warm, friendly community it was. It was lovely to watch. I just stood with my coffee, not quite sure what to do, and certainly not wanting to interrupt anything. I read every one of the notices on the noticeboard. Some more than once. There were obviously a lot of interesting things going on in this congregation. Fascinating. After about fifteen minutes, I gave up. I felt I had gotten a good impression of why that church had a reputation for being friendly. Have I been back since? Well, what do you think? They were friendly. But only to one another. And that’s the problem.
It’s not terribly reassuring to know that this is not only an Anglican problem, but it does seem to afflict other traditions. I have a friend who is a congregational consultant in his denomination and is often called in to help churches that are in trouble. At a conference where he was a speaker, he announced, “I have been to four congregations of this denomination in recent weeks, and in none of them was I welcomed.” Over coffee afterward, one pastor came up to him and said, “I hope you will visit our church soon. I think you will find it very different.” “And which is your church?” asked my friend. The pastor told him. “Ah yes,” replied my friend, “yours was the third of those I was talking about.”
Why this matters
If these were not churches, this might not be a big deal. If you were checking out a bridge club, and everybody ignored you because they were chatting with their friends, well, that would be sad. You probably wouldn’t go back, and it would be no big deal. But welcoming and bridge don’t have any intrinsic connection. As far as I know, there’s nothing about bridge that means you are an inauthentic bridge player if you don’t welcome new people. I suspect you could be a real jerk and still be a brilliant bridge player, though I would be happy to be corrected.
But church is not like a bridge club. (You heard it here first.) So often our problems in church come back to the basic question: What is a church? And then a second question: What exactly is church for? I believe at its heart church is a gathering of people who have responded to the call of God, to be apprentices of Jesus, learning to live as God’s people, in God’s world, in God’s way.
To put it another way, we learn God’s way from Jesus. Thus, we see in Jesus the forgiveness of God, so we look to practice forgiveness. We see Jesus’ compassion for the marginalized, the needy, and the sick, so we seek to practice those things. And so on. Hence, St Paul can call us “the Body of Christ,” a community deliberately dedicated to showing the character of Jesus in the world. This is one of the ways people encounter the reality of God’s love in their lives.
If you are following my argument, you can see where it’s going next. Here it comes: In Jesus, we see the welcome of God. God welcomes us into the family with open arms, regardless of who we are or what we have done, just like the father welcoming the prodigal home. One of the ways we respond to that welcome of God is to turn around and, in our turn, offer that welcome to others. St. Paul spells it out: “Welcome one another, as God in Christ has welcomed you!” (Romans 15:7)
This means that being a welcoming community is not just a nice thing; nor is it just an effective way to encourage new people to stick around. No, if we do a good job of welcoming people, what they will experience is actually a real-life touch of the welcome of God. They will feel the welcome of God in our welcome. In that sense, welcoming is sacramental, and those who welcome are sacramental ministers. And if we fail to welcome them—well, I am sure God is quite capable of finding another way to welcome them. But we are failing to do the very thing the church exists for. As my friend said, “No wonder this church is in trouble.”
John Bowen is Professor Emeritus of Evangelism at Wycliffe College in Toronto, where he was also the Director of the Institute of Evangelism. Before that, he worked a campus evangelist for Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship. For over thirty years, John has been a popular speaker, teacher, and preacher, on university campuses, in churches and in classrooms, and at conferences, across Canada and the USA. His most recent book is The Unfolding Gospel: How the Good News Makes Sense of Discipleship, Church, Mission, and Everything Else (Fortress 2021).
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