Yesterday, I
rearranged the chairs in the church sanctuary. Since the second Sunday in the
Easter season (the 1st Sunday after Easter), we’d been sitting in a
circle with the altar inside the circle. Many people loved this arrangement. An
smaller number of people hated it and there were a minority with no [expressed]
opinion.
In an effort
to be more visitor-oriented for the summer (our biggest visitor season), we
moved the chairs back into their neat little rows. I did not put out as many
rows as we had previously because we just don’t need that many chairs. We have
moveable chairs and fixed pews. I arranged five rows of six chairs each on two
sides (60 chairs). We also have four pews on each side, which could easily
accommodate 5-6 people each. Let’s say 5. Thus, we easily have seating for 40
people in the pews.
Sixty plus
forty is one hundred (100). We have available seating this Sunday for 100
people.
Last Sunday,
at our regular service, we had 37 people.
37.
I thought
about each of those 37 people as I arranged the chairs yesterday. The circle
put us all closer together and made the space seem full and warm. This Sunday,
forty people will be spread across seating for 100. The empty seats will be
obvious.
And I
arranged the chairs.
So frequently I am drawn into conversations about the shrinking church, about lowered
attendance, about why people no longer make church a priority.
These are
serious questions.
The answers
are not really about the style of music or the kind of preaching or the kind of
coffee or whether there is childcare.
All of those
things are just a different arrangement of the chairs.
The truth is
that the people who do regularly
attend church (of whatever kind) have to be convinced that what is offered to
them, what matters to them, could and
would matter to other people. And then they have to act on that thought.
Our desire
to see other people experience what we experience in church (if we experience something worth sharing)
must be greater than our fear of rejection and failure.
We have to
reject, forcefully- with the help of the Spirit, the forces that seditiously whisper the words “inevitable decline”, “too small to
matter”, or “too old-fashioned” to oppose God and God's work.
We can
arrange the chairs in all kinds of ways.
But if we
believe that the message of Christ ever
mattered, then we must move out
in faith BECAUSE THE MESSAGE IS AS IMPORTANT NOW AS IT HAS EVER BEEN.
The message
is as important now as it has ever been.
If we do not
think it is worth sharing… worth conquering our fear… worth sinning boldly for…
then it doesn’t matter.
And it never did.
In that
case, I have some chairs for sale.
Comments
We focus so much on the "deckchairs" of church and rush around trying to emulate the latest relevancy, but ignore the obvious.
As my mentor, Duane Priebe always reminded us, "Every sermon should be about life and death, heaven and hell or you have nothing to say." Is what we have to share life? I think so. How do we share that with those who seek life? Do we (pastors, laypeople, both) arrange deckchairs in church, in life in general, and neglect to show people the lifeboats? Or help them get in?
I think so.