Page 4791 – Christianity Today (2024)

It’s noontime at the Lunch-Box Cafe in Pandora, Ohio, where the leaders of St. John’s Mennonite Church are meeting in the back banquet room. The room has a Lake Wobegon feel, its walls lined with walnut-colored plywood paneling warped by humidity and age. An assortment of 19th-century idyllic country scenes hang on the walls. A forgotten stereo sits atop a dusty shelf.

The Lunch-Box Cafe and its customers symbolize what’s best about rural Ohio: honest work, fair prices, and a genuine sense of community.

Just down the road is an uncommon church. It’s in the middle of a cornfield, a mile or two out of town on a rural highway (not a spot church-growth experts would have chosen). There’s no interstate exit close by, no new subdivisions sprouting up down the road. Nor is it close to a major population center.

Yet the average worship attendance of St. John’s stands close to 500, with a nearly equal number of children enrolled in Sunday school and almost 300 in Pioneer Clubs. The church population almost matches the size of the town. In fact, the congregation has grown so large that the trustees voted to build the new gymnasium behind the church to shield its size from the community: “We didn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression.”

Today, I’m eating lunch at the LunchBox Cafe with the elders of St. John’s and their pastor, Ted VanderEnde, and his wife, Dorothy. In between bites of meatloaf, fresh bread, and steaming mashed potatoes, the leaders of St. John’s tell me about the vision that has sprung up in their Ohio cornfield.

A BIG DUTCH HEART

For seventeen years, Ted and his wife, Dorothy, have served St. John’s. When they arrived, St. John’s, like many rural ministries, faced limited resources. Sixty adults and their children showed up for Sunday morning.

Before coming here, the VanderEndes ministered for four years in Selma, Alabama, and for two years as missionaries in Belgium. Ted is a native of the Netherlands, and in this part of western Ohio, his Dutch accent and tall frame made him something of a novelty.

“It’s natural for me to laugh, cry, and make myself vulnerable in the pulpit. God used my strong Dutch accent, halting speech, and personable style of preaching to open the hearts of these people.”

In addition, the VanderEndes built bridges to people when they adopted three emotionally damaged children. “People will seek out the church,” Dorothy says, “when they see the church identify with their pain.”

MISSIONARY TECHNIQUE

When I ask St. John’s leaders to explain the church’s growth, the board chairman, a computer software executive who commutes nearly twenty miles to attend St. John’s, immediately brings up God’s Word.

“There’s a focus on the Word people are looking for,” explains the chairman. “When my son was 16, he had a hunger for more biblical training. He started attending St. John’s, and his mom and I soon followed him.”

The board chairman typifies many in the congregation who commute from Findlay, Ohio, a community of 45,000. But their coming didn’t happen by accident. Early on, Ted traveled to Findlay to start small group Bible studies. His entrepreneurial background in missions came in handy. He would meet with a group of ten to twenty people in Findlay for six weeks and then start another group. Eventually many of those discipled in his studies drifted to St. John’s services.

“Soon I had professional people inviting me to their places of business,” Ted says. “The opportunities for ministry multiplied. I intentionally tried to attract seekers, many of whom were business and professional people, to the church.”

The influx of new families created a fresh atmosphere. “A common disease of the small town, rural church,” says one elder, “is for one or two families to be in complete control. Out of all the elders seated at this table, only one is home-grown.”

“Jack here,” Ted chimes in, “was elected to become chairman of the congregation after only three years of attending the church.”

THE NICHE FACTOR

St. John’s has reached other outsiders through children’s programs.

“There are always more people in an area than you think,” Ted says. “For example, when we would attend our children’s school programs, I was amazed at how many people I had never seen before. So to reach these kids for Christ, we focused on children’s ministries. Kids bring kids with them to church.”

“Our children’s clubs on Wednesday evenings draw parents as well,” says another elder. “When children accept the Lord, it isn’t long before their parents start showing up as well.”

Regarding Pandora’s youth, Ted says, “Small towns tend to produce a high level of sexual activity among teenagers. There’s more hanky-panky going on in a town like this than you think. So we’ve also placed an emphasis on youth programming.”

But not everything they’ve tried has worked.

“We learned the hard way that special weeks of evangelistic meetings just don’t work here,” Ted says. “At most, people are willing to schedule a Saturday evening.”

Their attempt at a program for singles also flopped; St. John’s singles didn’t like being singled out.

But St. John’s policy when starting a program is to test it for a few months. If it bombs, the church reverts to the program the new one replaced.

“Nine times out of ten,” Dorothy says, “the congregation likes the new program much better. But we never introduce the new program as replacing the old one. The old one is still there and can be retrieved if needed.”

FIRST-RATE SINGING

As part of their vision, Ted and Dorothy also focused on improving the quality of St. John’s worship service.

“It’s common in rural churches for a song leader to get up and say, ‘Who has a favorite?'” Ted says. “I suggested that the service have a theme in keeping with the message, such as the sovereignty of God.

“If the singing was poor, I would stop the congregation in the middle of a hymn and say, ‘Wait a minute. This is just not good singing, folks. We can do better than this.’ Some probably do not like that, but together we push to do things well.”

As a result, Ted has had to be a peacemaker.

“Whenever Dorothy and I have sensed a problem,” Ted says, “we would ask, ‘Can we talk to you? We’ve heard that something is wrong.’

“I never believe the witness of one. If someone says, ‘There are a lot of people who feel this way,’ I’ll say, ‘Bring together five people, and I’ll meet with you.’ Usually, they never show up.”

The elders agree. “Ted has faced problems when they were still small,” one says. “He hasn’t waited for them to get large.” Recently the style of worship threatened to become a divisive issue. So the church took a Sunday evening and broke into small groups. “We talked the entire night about music and worship and church growth,” Ted remembers. “By getting it out into the open we avoided a serious division.”

ROOTED IDENTITY

Today, St. John’s leaders worry about the changing pace of rural life and the increasing pressure to make a living.

“Farms have been traditionally supported by two incomes,” observes one elder, “but the husband and wife worked side by side. Today they get up in the morning and go separate ways.” The need for marriage and family counseling is increasing.

Given such difficulties of rural ministry, Ted seems amazed at what’s happened in Pandora. “Recently I drove through several small towns in our area,” Ted says, “and I asked myself, ‘What if I had been faithful for all these years and no one showed up?’

“My answers seemed trite, ‘Well, believe God’s promises,’ or ‘Just stick with it.’ But I think we all need some measure of visible success in order to keep going. Ultimately, though, you survive in such a setting because you focus on who you are in Christ.”

The waitress brings us the check, and St. John’s leaders begin dividing up the tab. Now only a few retired residents of Pandora linger at the counter of the Lunch-Box Cafe. A diesel truck roars out of town, and Pastor Ted heads back to his calling at St. John’s.

Copyright (c) 1994 Christianity Today, Inc./LEADERSHIP Journal

Copyright © 1994 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

SUNDAY SCHOOL FOR UNCHURCHED ADULTS

Can you start a Sunday school class for adults who are not church attenders? If so, can it survive? Here’s what happened when Steve Heaster, pastor of Immanuel Bible Church in Three Springs, Pennsylvania, tried such a radical effort.

I asked members for names of young married couples they knew who were not attending Sunday school or church anywhere. This led to a prospect list of twenty couples.

I then selected material I thought would be of interest, a Navigators study entitled Husbands and Wives. I drafted a letter to each couple, simple and non-threatening, inviting them to become members of the new Sunday school class starting in about eight weeks. I told them that all who came would be new, and I shared with them the curriculum we would be using. I informed them of the other services of the church and what we had to offer their children. I included my phone number and told them I would like to stop by sometime for a visit.

During the next eight weeks I visited each couple’s home. I took along a copy of the study we would be using and left it with them. I told them it was theirs whether they decided to come or not. In addition, I informed them that I would be the teacher. I assured them I would never call on anyone for prayer unless I had checked with him or her first. They would never be put on the spot to answer a question or read Scripture. And they were free to speak as much or as little as they desired.

I shared the names of others we had invited and described how some of them had responded. Many folks asked if it was all right to come in blue jeans; I assured them this was fine. I even went so far as to tell them how they could get into their Sunday school classroom without having to go through the sanctuary, where so many others were seated for their classes. This may sound silly, but some appreciated it.

Above all, I reassured them that whatever they decided, I was available to minister to them should the need arise.

This made for an interesting eight weeks. I found myself praying for these people regularly. Since we are in a small, rural community, I frequently ran into many of them, and I did everything I could to build a relationship. I also urged those in the church who were friends with these folks to encourage them to try this new class.

As the kickoff day approached, I began to get nervous. Would anyone come? Would this be a big flop? Some of our leaders later confessed they felt, “Let’s give the pastor a chance, but we don’t think this will ever work. Poor Pastor, how is he going to feel when no one shows up?” But I was convinced that if folks did come, it was because the Lord prompted them, and if they didn’t, at least I could stand before the Lord and say I tried.

Sunday dawned bright and sunny that July morning. I arrived at the church earlier than usual. I didn’t want any new folks arriving and finding no one there to greet them. Sunday school began at 9:30 A.M. At 9:15 the first new family arrived. By 9:30 we had five new couples seated in the classroom and had ushered their thirteen children into the children’s department. The next Sunday, another couple joined us.

Three couples had been through divorce and were now remarried. One couple were unmarried but living together. We also had wives show up without husbands.

This new class introduced twenty-five people to our church in just two Sundays. And that number grew.

WHAT WENT WELL

Several things proved valuable to our endeavor:

1. We concentrated on one specific group, young marrieds with children. You could gear such a class toward singles or retired folks, but focus on one group.

2. We chose material that was easily understood and relevant to the lives of our prospective students. Many said this was what attracted them.

3. I sometimes needed to protect the class from well-meaning church members. Regular church attenders may not understand the shyness and apprehension of new people. Not all who started in our class immediately joined us in worship. This led one woman to ask, “When is your class going to become like the rest of us and attend church?”

4. We kept our promise not to put people on the spot by asking them to answer, pray, or read Scripture. We found it was acceptable to ask for volunteers.

5. Shortly after the class began to take shape, we asked these new folks to provide us with a list of friends and acquaintances who were not attending church anywhere. Thus began our prospect list for the next new class.

6. Since we were starting a class for married couples with children, we alerted our children’s department to get ready for a sudden influx of new youngsters.

WHAT DIDN’T GO SO WELL

Despite the success of the class, we could have done some things better. I’ll offer some insights gained from the mistakes we made.

1. Start with as large a prospect list as possible. Ours had twenty couples, but obviously, the more candidates, the greater the positive response. Those who do not become part of a first class should be kept on the list for future classes.

2. Do not open the class to existing members. This may have been our biggest mistake. When we allowed established Sunday school members to join the new class, some new folks lost their niche and stopped coming.

3. Strike a balance between the scriptural admonition to “lay hands suddenly on no man” and the need to find ministry opportunities for new folks. We lost some people because we hadn’t thought ahead to where we could plug them into ministry. Several were willing to serve as youth advisers under the guidance of our established youth directors. Some became involved as musicians. Others served on planning commissions. The trouble was, we had more people than we had opportunities. As a result, some got the idea, “We like you to come, but we don’t need you for anything else.”

THE CLASS TO HOPE IN

Since the class was geared toward young marrieds with children, people often shared some difficulty they had experienced during the week. We quickly became a class where following the lesson plan took a back seat to listening to each other, and then gaining a biblical perspective on the issue they were dealing with.

This led to the name of our class. The name was submitted by a man who had been away from the church since he was a child, and who had struggled with his relationship to God. He suggested, and the class adopted, the name THE CLASS TO HOPE IN.

The fruit of this class is a source of real joy today. At last count, the class has provided an entry point into the church for at least sixty-three people. Twenty-one are now members, many serving in church ministries. Twenty children were added to the church also. The class members and their children account for over one third of our Sunday school.

SEX-AND-DATING CAMP

How can a church help community junior high youth resist pressures to become sexually active before marriage? The staff and parents of Millington Baptist Church in Basking Ridge, New Jersey, developed a summer program entitled, “Sex and Dating: What Are You Waiting For?”

To publicize the event a letter of introduction and invitation was sent to the parents of every junior high student in town. The local newspaper and television station gave media coverage.

The week-long activities included lessons on seeing the benefits of waiting, recognizing false media messages, and setting dating standards. Older teens told why they are glad they’ve remained chaste, or why they regret they haven’t. One teen guest brought her baby and spoke about the tremendous responsibility involved in raising a child alone.

Parent and community involvement was key to the program’s success. One teen’s parents wrote and directed a one-act play that powerfully demonstrated how a teen’s efforts to strengthen a relationship through sex actually weakened and ultimately destroyed it. A church family volunteered their home for a pool party and barbecue on the last day. An instructor from the local YMCA led youth aerobics. Clothing and sporting goods stores donated merchandise as prizes for memorizing verses on sexual purity, writing an essay, or winning some zany games of endurance.

One teen spoke of her skepticism about coming, yet the week “made me think in a new way about the consequences of my behavior in all areas of my life.” Parents expressed gratitude that the church was willing to address a subject that some of their children were not open to discussing with them.

On the final day more than 85 percent of the youth took a public stand to remain sexually pure until marriage. This commitment was sealed by signing a wallet-sized pledge card that they were encouraged to cut in half on their wedding night.

When asked by one skeptic from the media if the pledge cards weren’t setting up teens to fail, the response was simply, “Though some youth will perhaps choose to break their vow, most are now better prepared to succeed.”

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WHAT’S WORKED FOR YOU?

What program or activity worked well in your church?

Leadership pays $20 to $50 (depending upon length) for each published account of fresh and effective ministry. Send your description of a helpful ministry, method, or approach to

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Copyright (c) 1994 Christianity Today, Inc./LEADERSHIP Journal

Copyright © 1994 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

What Pete Scazzero heard made his eyes bulge.

“This same marketing program launched a number of highly successful churches in Southern California,” the denominational executive enthused. “I’m sure you’ve heard all about their success. We’ll loan you $5,000 to participate in this program. You’ll mail out 20,000 letters and should get 200 people to jump-start your church.”

Wow, 200 people! Pete thought. This mailing is just what I need. It will force our Bible study group to pick a date to start the church.

Pete dreamed of planting a multi-ethnic church in a poor barrio of Queens, New York. He had never planted–or pastored–a church before. Nor had he taken any classes in seminary on church planting. But what he lacked in experience, he made up for in verve. So he jumped at the chance to start a church, and on Easter 1987, Pete’s dream opened its doors for worship.

A few weeks later, however, Pete was both broke and broken. The marketing scheme was a bust. The few the mailing had attracted were not emotionally, much less spiritually, stable enough to launch a church. Within weeks, it was clear the promised masses would not be showing up anytime soon. Neither would their help to pay for the meeting space.

On the church’s sixth Sunday, five minutes before worship, the 554-seat school auditorium was empty. That is, except for Pete, his wife, Geri, and their toddler. A few minutes later, fifteen people straggled in off the dingy streets of Queens. Worship began.

So this is it, Pete thought, my vision to reach the lost of New York City. I’ve spent three years in seminary and two years studying Spanish for this? Why, God, did you lead me on this suicide mission?

Confused, exhausted, a little angry, Pete stood up to preach.

And then it happened–something Pete can describe only as “an event for which I have no theological categories.” Pete had been listlessly expounding some point in his sermon when, abruptly, God’s presence flooded his senses. Pete felt God delivered what seemed to be a clear promise: “Everything I said to you I will perform.” Pete stepped away from the pulpit with his sagging vision for New York City reinflated.

But within weeks, Pete mercifully shut the church doors, the mistakes made in planting it too numerous to salvage. God’s promise would be fulfilled, it appeared, in his next decision to start over. In September 1987, New Life Fellowship of Queens, New York, was born.

VISION AND REALITY

Pete has always had plenty of vision; he traces its motherlode to his final year of seminary. One morning while praying in his basem*nt about his future in ministry, Pete believes he received from God two clear directives: “Go learn Spanish” and “Come back to New York.” It wasn’t a lot to go on, but the experience lit a fire deep within him. He began investigating avenues to learn Spanish and toyed with the idea of moving to Puerto Rico.

Shortly thereafter, a man Pete barely knew from the Christian and Missionary Alliance denomination fortuitously made an offer Pete and his wife of five months couldn’t refuse: $8,000 to go learn Spanish in Costa Rica. So after graduation, while their friends launched promising careers in suburban churches, Pete and Geri packed up and headed south.

They moved in with a Costa Rican family with ten children, none of whom spoke English. Pete and Geri didn’t speak Spanish. Their only private moments were shared in a tiny room above a carpentry shop, whose employees went to work at 6 A.M. Sawdust particles would rise through the holes in their floor and blanket their belongings. To top it off, a week after arriving there, Geri delivered to Pete news that often brings an amalgam of fear and joy to husbands: “I think I’m pregnant.”

“I had a great sense of God’s leading,” Pete says, “but it was the worst year of our lives.”

After a grinding year in Costa Rica, Pete felt his Spanish skills needed more honing. Speaking in Spanish was one thing; preaching was quite another. So the Scazzeros moved to a Hispanic neighborhood in Queens, New York. It seemed like the right decision, especially in light of Pete’s two-part vision. Thanks again to their benefactor who had funded the year in Costa Rica, the Scazzeros had another year’s salary.

Pete volunteered that year in a congregation in which 80 percent of the people were illegal immigrants from Latin America. He preached and also taught theology in a local Spanish seminary. While in prayer, Pete again sensed direction from God: to plant a church built on cell (small) groups. But not just any church–a multi-ethnic church for the poor, both English and Spanish, that would eventually plant other churches throughout neighborhoods in New York City.

Pete began to analyze New York City’s demographics and fell in love with its diversity and people. He finally elected a neighborhood in Queens: the area was multi-ethnic, poor, and close to Manhattan by car or train. Queens seemed to face the world.

But his vision had one small problem: reality. Pete was alone, had little denominational support, no staff, no money, and no experience.

“I had never pastored a church before,” Pete says. “My way of starting a church was to go out in the street and start sharing the gospel, trying to gather a core group of people.”

So that’s what he did. And that’s when he invested in the church marketing strategy. The false start, though, would give Pete what he needed most–experience. His first lesson was as hard as it was necessary: the ‘burbs of Southern California are not the barrios of New York City.

STREET EDUCATION

Shortly before Pete closed the church, he bumped into Fuller Seminary professor Peter Wagner at a nearby college. When Pete relayed to him his story, Wagner said, “You’ve done everything wrong.”

“I know I did everything wrong,” Pete replied. “What am I supposed to do right?”

“For starters,” Wagner said, “if God has called you to plant a church, he’s got a place for you on Sunday mornings.”

Pete’s church had met for worship on Sunday evenings.

“You don’t start a church in the inner city on Sunday nights,” Wagner continued, “not in a location as dangerous as yours. People get robbed at night.”

Pete had not thought of that. He soaked up Wagner’s sagacity and began planning for his second church.

When 33 people showed up for New Life Fellowship’s debut, Pete was ecstatic. In its first year, New Life Fellowship grew to a hundred strong. The church offered two programs: cell groups during the week and a celebration service on Sunday morning.

“I had a broad-stroke vision of what I believed God wanted us to accomplish,” Pete says, “but I didn’t know how to achieve it. After a year, I realized I needed mentoring to understand just what a cellgroup church was.”

Pete came in contact with church consultant Carl George, who was researching the large churches of Korea organized around the cell group. George took an interest in Pete’s vision for the inner city and mentored him on the theory behind the cellchurch philosophy.

Not everything that worked on paper worked on the street, however. Neither Peter Wagner nor Carl George could save Pete from one of the more effective techniques of church planting: trial and error.

Conventional wisdom said that the average suburban Christian, for example, could lead a cell group of ten people; all they needed was a little on-the-job training. So Pete, desperate for leaders to harness the church’s growth, recruited anyone with a willing heart. Cell groups multiplied like rabbits.

And then came the plague. One leader had an agenda to start his own church. Once he secured a cell group, he and the group seceded from the union. Other leaders handed out bizarre tracts in their cell groups as discipleship resources. Still others fixated on end-times theology.

Any church-growth principles imported from other settings, Pete learned again, would have to be tailored to the streets of New York City. New Life’s cell-group leaders needed to be highly trained to handle the complexities of shepherding the broken people of urban America.

It’s a good thing that, as Pete says, “I’m a super optimist. I can see potential in a frog.”

FEET ON THE GROUND

While the past seven years have tempered Pete’s enthusiasm, the hard knocks have not battered his vision. Perhaps only someone bursting with so much vision can stand fast amid such overwhelming odds.

“One of my primary contributions to this church,” Pete says, “is my calling to keep the vision alive and clear. No one else can do that. But I’m learning to keep my feet on the ground. My greatest struggle has never been vision but methodology and timing. I’m always running out ahead of God.”

Recently, when New Life Fellowship outgrew its rented facility, Pete was pushed to hunt for a new church home. The local Elks Club was available, but it would cost $1,000 per week to rent. When Pete tried to assess the church’s finances to see if they could swing the rent, he couldn’t even find out how much money the church had in the bank. The proper financial reporting structures hadn’t been developed.

Not long after that, a pastor-friend said to Pete, “You’re responsible for any financial scandal at New Life Fellowship. You know that, don’t you?”

“I needed to hear that,” Pete says. “I needed to be shaken up. I was launching ministries left and right, but we had no internal structure to care for the people leading those ministries, and no system to keep things running efficiently. I spent much of my time stamping out fires.”

So Pete slowed down to concentrate on an area he admits he knows nearly nothing about: church infrastructure. One suburban church sent a lawyer to point out New Life Fellowship’s code violations and now loans their associate pastor to New Life for two days a week. In addition, someone donated money so New Life could hire a director of community development.

“We’ve got to slow this whole thing down,” Pete now says, “and build this church right.” That’s not easy for visionaries. But those are the words of a now older, and much wiser, Pete Scazzero.

Enormous challenges still confront New Life Fellowship, which has grown to almost 800 people since 1987. But its vision is clear: “to nurture a multi-congregational, multi-ethnic, bilingual church in New York City that will plant churches in other large urban centers, both in the United States and around the world.”

That’s a lot of vision. But if the past seven years are any proof, what God promises, he performs

Copyright (c) 1994 Christianity Today, Inc./LEADERSHIP Journal 🙂

Copyright © 1994 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Several years ago, I purchased ten shares of IBM stock at $116 per share. It seemed like a great opportunity. We were in the middle of a bull market, and the price of the stock had fallen from an all-time high of $175.

Over the next few years, however, I watched in dismay as the price of my shares inched lower and lower. Soon their value had been cut by more than half. So when I heard that Louis V. Gerstner, the former chief of RJR Nabisco, had become CEO of Big Blue, I was keenly interested in his vision for the company.

Imagine my surprise when Gerstner stated, “The last thing that IBM needs right now is a vision.”

When asked to explain, he said, “A vision is often what somebody turns to when it gets hard doing what’s required, namely, good, solid blocking and tackling. Remember, the Wizard of Oz was a vision.”

As pastor of a congregation of 75, I have sometimes wondered if the last thing my church needs is vision. The blocking and tackling alone are overwhelming.

But as we have worked to formulate a long-range vision, I have learned much about vision in the small church, both the difficulties and the benefits.

In the small church, talk of church vision may seem as out of place as Robert’s Rules of Order at the family dinner table. There are several reasons for this.

* Limited Resources.

One week before we completed the grueling process of formulating a vision for Valley Chapel for the year 2000, the church’s Sunday school superintendent and financial secretary resigned. The superintendent was relocating to another community, and the financial secretary had begun a new job, making it impossible for her to continue. Since the Sunday school superintendent also taught the eighth-grade class, now we also needed a new teacher.

Suddenly our grand design for the next century didn’t seem all that important. I worried about getting through the next quarter. When the small church is struggling with limited resources, the only vision it may be able to muster is the will to see beyond the next utility payment!

* Family Orientation.

The small church, writes Anthony G. Pappas, is “a single cell of caring people. It does not exist to do, as the mid-sized program church does. It exists to be. Its essence is not in its administrative structure, charismatic leadership, and long-range plans, as is the case in the large church.”

At the beginning of our vision formulation process, I outlined the project to one member. Her face fell. “If you expected me to say that I like the idea,” she said, “I’m afraid I can’t.”

I was surprised and disappointed. I considered her one of our more progressive members. If she hated the idea, what would everyone else think?

“As a teacher,” she explained, “I see this sort of thing all the time. It always turns out to be some administrator’s idea of what we should be doing.”

She feared that by focusing on the vision, we would no longer focus on the needs of our own people: “Maybe it’s time we started concentrating more on ourselves,” she offered.

* Short-Term Pastors.

Many small churches have learned to be wary of the “pastor’s big ideas.” When I had been pastor of Valley Chapel for seven years, an eider complimented me on a suggestion I’d made. “You almost always have good ideas,” he said, beaming.

His remark amazed me (I’d thought all my ideas were good ones!) Not long before, he had often questioned my ideas. Now, apparently, he had come to trust my judgment, but it had taken years.

The average tenure of the small-church pastor is somewhere between four and five years. Each new pastor brings a different vision. It may seem to church members that their pastors stay just long enough to stir up trouble, then leave the congregation to clean up the mess.

For small churches with a long history, this natural skepticism is augmented by a tendency to focus on the past rather than the future. “Since the heart of the small church is neither pastor- nor paper-oriented,” writes Doran McCarty, author of Leading the Small Church, “the vision of the small church often comes from its heritage. Through the generations the members have committed themselves to values and family (in this case, the family is the church family). Their vision is personal, not organizational.”

During one Sunday school class, we watched a video by futurist Joel Arthur Barker. The video began by describing the natural reluctance people have toward change. As soon as the word “change” had been uttered, a voice piped up from the back of the room: “Change? We don’t need to change. We’re fine just the way we are.”

THREE KEY QUESTIONS

Despite the above obstacles, I felt that our church would benefit from a ministry vision. During the previous eight years, the congregation had grown, and its programs had nearly doubled. This burst of expansion culminated in the completion of our new church building. Afterward I felt the church had the right to take a wel ldeserved rest.

In time, however, that rest began to feel more like apathy. I became convinced we needed a new challenge. I certainly did. As we sought God’s ministry vision for our church, we asked ourselves three basic questions:

Who are we?

Where do we live?

What is God calling us to do?

WHO ARE WE?

The reason a church needs to be self-aware is practical: Once a vision has been formulated, the congregation must implement it. The church’s members may be its missionaries, but they are also its primary consumers. Members will own a vision statement only to the degree that it corresponds with their own unspoken sense of purpose.

We began the vision-formulation process by taking a good look at ourselves: What are we currently doing? Is it something we enjoy? Do we wish we were doing something different?

To find the answers, I created a questionnaire the church members filled out during Sunday school. I could have hired someone to do this, but formulating my own survey enabled me to tailor the questions to specific interests. I used a simple software program to translate the data into graphs that enabled me to visualize the survey results (rather than drown in a sea of percentages).

I hoped the questionnaire’s results would point to an overriding passion–the one thing we like to do more than anything else. It seemed to me that, if we could match that one area with a primary need in the community, we would have our ministry vision.

The questionnaire did reveal a number of clear trends. Generally speaking, people wanted to continue doing what we were already doing. Our primary strength was children’s ministry. People felt we should have more small groups, but they didn’t necessarily want to attend them. They were committed to their families but not much interested in discipleship. They wanted to hear more music in the worship services. They didn’t want to teach adults or be placed in positions of leadership.

The survey didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. But it confirmed our strengths–our children’s ministry, for example–and revealed a few holes in our ministry infrastructure–developing and discipling leaders.

WHERE DO WE LIVE?

Answering this second question forced us to look at two features of our ministry environment: demographics and lifestyle.

At first, a demographic analysis seemed daunting, especially since I had nearly flunked statistics in college! During a visit to the local library, however, I discovered The Sourcebook of Zip Code Demographics (CACI Marketing Systems, 1991) that summarizes results from the most recent census, listing the data by Zip Code. I simply had to find the category that interested me, whether age, population, income, or marital status, and look under the Zip Code of the community I was researching.

I used the same software that had worked so well with the survey. The program translated this data into graphs, and before long I had visual aids that gave me a clear demographic picture of the communities surrounding our church.

Lifestyle information was more difficult to gather. I studied back issues of American Demographics. I also asked several church members if they would interview their friends, using another questionnaire I had developed. I was pleasantly surprised when several members agreed. Many, though, took a copy of the survey home but never used it.

During a Sunday school class in which the results of the survey were being discussed, one member exclaimed: “You mean people were actually willing to talk about these things with you? I find that amazing!” Others had trouble finding willing participants. One member asked ten co-workers if they would complete the survey. She was turned down by every one.

Some did find willing subjects, however, and their answers proved revealing. Most of those who participated in the survey agreed that their lives had improved in the last ten years. Single mothers, who expressed concerns about finances and their children’s adjustment to divorce, were chief among those who disagreed. Everyone listed family as being among the top three spheres of life from which they derive satisfaction, with most ranking it as number one.

Interestingly, a majority of those who were not church attenders also ranked church among the top three priorities in their life. Friendships and family matters, particularly the needs of children, were most important. When asked to describe the kind of church they would most likely attend, the majority identified friendliness as a key factor.

The survey concluded by asking participants to draw a map of their typical day and note the time spent at each location. Most of their time was spent at work, home, or commuting between.

The survey revealed that those our church is attempting to reach feel a hunger for primary relationships but are unable to develop them because of hectic schedules. Family is a primary concern, especially if the family has been touched by divorce.

At the same time, those interviewed often made choices that worked against these priorities. For example, one woman who listed church among her top three priorities also indicated that “quality time with the family” kept her from attending church. “Sunday is my husband’s only day off,” she explained. Yet, she went on to say that on most Sundays, her husband left home to hunt and fish.

In short, we discovered our church could address many of the needs felt by our neighbors, especially relational needs and those related to the family. But we also discovered we must take the initiative. Our neighbors would not come to us on their own.

WHAT IS GOD’S CALL?

To answer this question, I formed a Team 2000 that comprised four key lay people and myself. Our purpose was to draft a vision statement.

I chose team members who were supportive of my ministry and generally positive in their outlook. I included a member of the church’s governing board because of our tradition of strong elder rule. I chose another member because he was a fairly recent convert: He could still remember what it was like to visit our church for the first time.

Despite their interest in the project, crafting a vision statement did not come easily. After our third meeting, one member of Team 2000 said he felt frustrated because of the lengthy process. “Somehow I thought the vision would come together in just a couple of weeks,” he said. “We don’t really seem much further along than when we started.”

Then, I used the adult Sunday school class to draw the rest of the congregation into the discussion. We spent several weeks discussing the mission of the church, the results of the congregational survey, and the analysis of our community’s demographics. These classes culminated with a panel discussion during which the members of Team 2000 shared the results of their interviews with unchurched friends and neighbors. There we unveiled the vision statement (See “A Small Church’s Big Goals.”.)

HOW SUCCESSFUL WERE WE?

We produced a vision statement, communicated it to the congregation, and had our church departments use it to set goals.

But I wasn’t convinced the vision statement was strong enough to produce what John Naisbitt and Patricia Aburdene refer to as alignment: “that unparalleled spirit and enthusiasm that energizes people in companies to make the extra effort to do things right I and to do the right thing.”

So at first, I thought the payoff might come not from the vision itself but from the process that generated it. Whether or not we had uncovered God’s vision for our church, at least we had learned valuable things about ourselves and our mission.

The process itself did produce a payoff. Our demographic research, for example, forced us to come to terms with this truth: We cannot wait for the unchurched to seek us. We must think more like missionaries.

The process also reminded me of my critical role as pastor. The frustration expressed by many during the process showed that while the members expect to have a say in what happens, they also want to be led.

Now, however, there are signs our new vision is taking root.

Not long after we finished crafting our vision statement and its goals, I received a call from a member. A friend had told him of a used school bus our church could purchase for $1,000.

“John, it’s in really good shape,” he said, with excitement in his voice. “My friend was planning on buying it himself, but now he is planning to move.”

I could hardly believe my ears. Not until the year 2000 were we expecting to meet the new goal of purchasing a vehicle for our Sunday school department. The price was right.

The comment his wife made, however, excited me even more. “I thought the Lord would do something through these goals,” she said. “But I never expected him to give me the burden I have now for this ministry.”

God had, indeed, given us a vision.

********************

John Koessler is pastor of Valley Chapel in Green Valley, Illinois.

Copyright (c) 1994 Christianity Today, Inc./LEADERSHIP Journal

Copyright © 1994 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Percentage of high school seniors who have had sexual intercourse: 72

Percentage who have had at least 4 partners: 19

Ratio of churches to people in the U.S.: 1:900

Percentage of people who say religion answers today’s problems: 60

In 1984:56

Percentage of Americans who pray daily: 75

Percentage who say they have had prayers answered: 95

Number of suicides, per 100,000 people ages 15 to 19: 11.1

Per 100,000 people ages 75 to 84: 24.9

Number of swear words in vocabulary of average American male: 58

Of average American female: 29

Estimated number of U.S. couples trying to adopt a child: 1,500,000

Number of infants available for adoption: 25,000

Percentage of children living with only one parent, in 1970: 12

In 1992: 27

Ratio of unmarried couples to married couples, in 1970: 1:100

In 1992: 6:100

Percentage of 1992’s incoming theology students in the U.S. and Canada who were female: 43

Who were 31 or older: 45

Percentage of Americans who believe the Bible is the inspired Word of God: 80

Percentage who believe there is no one set of values that is right: 48

HOW SPIRITUAL ARE WE?

A U.S. News & World Report article (4/4/94) suggests that while Americans may be more spiritual than ever, confusing signals remain to be sorted out.

For example, though 93 percent of Americans believe in God or a universal spirit, and 75 percent pray at least once daily, 70 percent say that individuals must decide on their own what is right and wrong.

In addition, while 65 percent say that religion is losing influence on society, 62 percent say that religion has been gaining influence in their own lives.

FORGIVENESS BEATS REVENGE

When asked what they would try to do when wronged, American adults chose forgiveness over revenge six to one. A Gallup Poll found that 48 percent would “try to forgive” while 8 percent would “try to get even.”

Other responses: discussing the problem (48 percent), overlooking the offense (45 percent), praying for comfort and guidance (27 percent), and praying for the offender (25 percent). And while 14 percent said they would hold their resentment inside, 9 percent said they would try to do something nice for the one who hurt them.

– Pentecostal Evangel, 9/5/93

WITHOUT CHILDREN

In 1990, more than 25 percent of 30 to 34-year-old American women were childless. In 1976 only 16 percent were. The National Center for Health Statistics says that 22 percent of American women born between 1956 and 1972 will never have children–most of them by choice.

Researcher Rick Weiss notes: Couples with children frequently experience higher levels of frustration and lower levels of happiness. Married mothers tend to be more depressed than their husbands and more depressed than women who have no children.

But, after their children are grown and gone, older parents report higher measures of happiness, satisfaction, self-esteem, purpose, and fulfillment in life than do adults who remain childless.

– Health, 7-8/93

Copyright (c) 1994 Christianity Today, Inc./LEADERSHIP Journal

Copyright © 1994 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

THE YOUNG AND THE RESTLESS

“The Baby Bust”

by William Dunn

American Demographics, $39.95

Reviewed by Jackson Crum,

pastor of small groups,

Lakeland Community Church,

Holland, Michigan.

In April, Kurt Cobain, 27-year-old lead singer of the alternative-rock group Nirvana, pressed a shotgun to his head and tragically ended his life. Some called Cobain “the John Lennon of the MTV generation.” His music, life, and even his death symbolized the angst of a generation without dads, jobs, and hope.

Kurt Cobain’s generation–those born after 1964–has been dubbed the “baby busters.” That, actually, is one of their more flattering titles. They’ve also been called the “doofus generation” and the “nowhere generation” (mostly by snobbish baby-boomer journalists and sociologists). The buster label stuck because their numbers are smaller than the almost 80 million baby boomers who preceded them. “Generation X” and the “13ers” (the 13th generation since the Revolutionary War) are their two other popular names.

According to William Dunn, author of “The Baby Bust,” this generation consists of 41 million Americans born between 1965 and 1976 (plus 3 million immigrants). If they were a nation, they would be one-and-a-half times the population of Canada. (Other analysts, however, include Americans born through 1983, which would bring the tally to more than 60 million.)

Up front, Dunn, former writer for USA Today and the Gannett News Service, admits his bias–he’s a baby boomer. But he wants to correct the buster stereotypes–lazy, hopeless, directionless–trumpeted by the baby-boomer media.

“I find baby busters [are] overindulged in some respects,” he writes, “and not in others, but clearly underrated as a group, paid too little attention to, and definitely misunderstood.”

Dunn divides his book into three sections: That Was Then; This Is Now; and That’s the Way It’s Gonna Be. In the first section, Dunn lists six forces that unexpectedly drove down birth rates in the 1960s and 1970s, including divorce, abortion, and birth control. Hence, the baby bust.

Regarding divorce, he writes, “Liberalized divorce laws, including no-fault divorce and incompatibility claims, opened the floodgates. Marriages, previously held together only by tough laws, suddenly dissolved.”

In addition, the busters are the first generation of latchkey kids. With both parents working, they often came home after school to an empty house. Consequently, they had to grow up faster and deal with life situations they were ill-equipped to handle.

“The latchkey experience,” Dunn writes, “has undoubtedly made these children more independent and self-sufficient at an earlier age than previous generations.”

From spending habits to values, Dunn sketches the portrait of the average baby buster. “The Baby Bust” is an outstanding introduction to the millions of Americans now entering adulthood. Dunn writes, “Busters are quietly taking up their places in the real world. They’re your new colleagues at work, the new crop of doctors, the young police officers you pass on the street, the entrepreneurs coming up with the latest hot ventures. A buster may one day be your boss.”

How can churches reach them?

A NEW GOSPEL TRANSLATION

Pastors would be wise to emulate Bill Clinton, who targeted the busters by going on MTV during his election campaign. The busters responded to Clinton’s attention by voting for him en masse. As former President Bush found out, they won’t be ignored.

In reaching busters for Christ, here are two spheres for pastors to consider:

* Program for busters. Five years ago, the college ministry I led began to attract twenty-somethings who were a year or two out of college. They resisted going to the singles ministry, because it consisted primarily of older singles. Repeatedly I heard, “I don’t feel comfortable with them,” “We don’t have a lot in common,” and “They are not my generation.”

So we targeted this group. What started as a small group of frustrated busters turned into a community of several hundred. The lesson: busters are not boomers, and, as Dunn points out, they don’t want to be treated as such. Busters have their own needs, dreams, and concerns.

As one buster put it, “Don’t think we’re the continuation of the babyboom generation. We’re not.” Busters, for instance, are getting married even later than boomers, and many will not marry at all (one-tenth of all busters, Dunn predicts).

Small groups may be the most effective strategy to connect with the emotional needs of busters. Small groups provide the care and relationships busters say they crave. They want a place to share their similar life experiences, build platonic relationships with those of the opposite sex, and talk with peers “who have more in common than a pitcher of beer.”

* Preach to busters. Many of today’s preaching pastors are baby boomers. Naturally, they illustrate from their own experiences. That won’t always cut it for busters, who need to hear the gospel afresh in their dialect.

Take the family, for example. A large percentage of boomers grew up in two-parent families. But many busters grew up with stepparents, stepbrothers and sisters, and custody battles. While pastors must continually hold up God’s standard, they need to be sensitive to the vacuum in which many busters were raised.

In this American Demographics book, Dunn has done much of our homework. Though writing for marketers, his profile of busters will help pastors translate the gospel into the language of the young and the restless.

MAKING THE RIGHT MOVE

“Red Light, Green Light”

by John Cionca

Baker Books, $11.99

Reviewed by Ron Klassen,

general director,

Rural Home Missionary Association,

Morton, Illinois.

Every pastor has experienced “Monday Morning Gloom” or “Post-BoardMeeting Syndrome.” In those moments, we often ask Is it time to move on?

The decision to move is complicated enough during the tough times, but what about when times are good? Once, while in a stretch of ministry contentment, I received a phone call about a new challenge. I was happy to stay but excited to move. Now what?

With “Red Light, Green Light,” John Cionca, professor at Bethel Theological Seminary in St. Paul, helps pastors keep these decisions on an objective plane, forcing us to consider criteria for staying or moving. Restlessness alone, he says, is not a reason to move, while job enthusiasm is a reason to stay.

“The degree to which enthusiasm or discouragement is your daily experience,” he writes, “indicates how appropriate a move might be.”

Cionca’s thesis is that God gives pastors a double green light when to move on: “The ‘green light of fit’ with a calling church, combined with the ‘green light of freedom’ to leave one’s present ministry . … “

Cionca devotes several helpful chapters to 36 guiding signals–family well-being and future possibilities, for example–obtained from extensive research. He generously sprinkles each chapter with real-life anecdotes and concludes with questions to help you analyze your situation.

It would be a shame if this book were read only by those considering a move. One of the best chapters discusses an annual pastoral assessment, complete with a useful questionnaire to work through with your church board.

Whether or not they are contemplating a move, I give all pastors the green light to buy this book.

REAPPEARING JEWEL

“The Renewal of Sunday Worship”

edited by Robert E. Webber

Star Song, $49.99

Reviewed by Roger Barrier, pastor,

Casas Adobes Baptist Church,

Tucson, Arizona.

A decade ago, Robert Webber, professor of theology at Wheaton College, traveled to Minnesota to lead a workshop on worship. At its conclusion, a pastor commented, “I love these new ideas. But I have no way to take them home to my church.”

That simple comment “started the ball rolling,” Webber says, on the massive, seven-volume “Complete Library of Christian Worship.” “The Renewal of Sunday Worship” is the third volume in the series.

The opening section of this volume details the worship practices of more than sixty Christian denominations, ministries, and fellowships, including Adventist, Roman Catholic, and Vineyard. As I read page after page, I realized that despite what some in my congregation tell me, there is no one right way to worship God. With my Southern Baptist experience, I never considered that the worship expression of Christian America was so varied and blessed.

Our worship leader was overwhelmed with the content and scope of “The Renewal of Sunday Worship.” “Nothing like this,” he said, “has ever been compiled.”

Pastors will benefit from chapters such as “What Is Worship Renewal?” “Styles of Worship,” “Styles of Preaching,” and “Resources for the Service of the Table.”

Ministry around the Lord’s Table, for example, struck our worship leader and me as a neglected area in our tradition. “Because an important aspect of receiving the Communion,” write the authors, “is the personal ‘yes’ said to the death and resurrection of Christ (for me), careful consideration should be given to the manner of reception.”

Webber and his contributors provide more Communion ideas than we can incorporate in a month of Sundays. Here are just three:

— Have the people come “forward to receive the bread and wine”

— “Give the bread and wine to each person by name”

— “Touch the hand of the receiver as the bread is placed in the palm of the hand.”

“The Renewal of Sunday Worship” will give any pastor or worship leader new ideas for leading others to the throne of God so they may worship.

MORE THAN BUDDIES

“Community That Is Christian”

by Julie A. Gorman

Victor, $12.99

Reviewed by Karen K. Hiner,

freelance writer,

Spokane, Washington.

Have your attempts at small groups fizzled?

Julie Gorman, assistant professor at Fuller Theological Seminary, may explain part of the reason why. According to Gorman, Christian theology today–especially in the Reformed tradition–emphasizes personal faith rather than commitment to the community of believers. The American ideal of rugged individualism fuels this tendency.

In “Community That Is Christian,” Gorman calls the church back to “God’s more equitable order of individual-in-community.” She outlines what constitutes true community and offers practical help on handling conflict and creating small groups.

“Never attempt to build community from nothing,” advises Gorman. She suggests focusing on what you already have before you present a new vision for the future. As part of your preliminary investigation, look for three kinds of hidden agendas:

— “Sacred Cows,” traditional ways of doing things that must not be tampered with. Be sure you recognize them, because they will not change no matter what you do.

— “Mine Fields,” sensitive emotional issues inadvertently caused by past programs and not easily forgotten by those offended. Defuse “Mine Fields” by showing how new programs will be structured to avoid the same problems.

— “Tattered Dreams,” nostalgic longings for programs no longer effective. Use the good in these dreams to build the new.

The distinctive feature of Christianity, says Gorman, is the difference Jesus makes in the interpersonal relationships of his followers. Every program should be evaluated by asking, “How will this develop or enhance community among the people of God?”

THE INVOCATIONS OF WARRIORS

“Churches That Pray”

by C. Peter Wagner

Regal Books, $15.99

Reviewed by Rubel Shelly, minister,

Woodmont Hills Church of Christ,

Nashville, Tennessee.

Peter Wagner has finally written the book intended to be the first in his Prayer Warrior Series. (It winds up being the fourth.) It doesn’t come too soon for the American church.

“Churches That Pray” calls local churches to a high level of prayer. Specifically, it calls pastors to “make the transition from rhetoric prayer to action prayer.” The book is a welcome emphasis when some churches seem to emphasize church growth rather than spiritual depth.

The final five chapters call for the church to pray in the wider community through praise marches, prayer walks, prayer expeditions, and prayer journeys. Wagner believes such public displays can bring “repentance and unity” as the church comes out of hiding. (He does not explain how prayer marches avoid becoming prayers “to be seen of men” that Jesus condemned.)

The book also offers practical guidelines for starting prayer ministries and even helps with planning a prayer meeting. “The first 10 to 15 minutes of the hour,” Wagner writes, “should be spent in singing the prayers.”

His examples of vibrant change through prayer are inspiring, though some will stretch readers’ credulity. Pastors, though, should not shut themselves off from this book’s larger value. If any local church is to become a place of salvation for sinners and security for saints, prayer will be critical. We must exhibit (without becoming exhibitionists) faith in the power of God to hear and answer prayers.

Copyright (c) 1994 Christianity Today, Inc./LEADERSHIP Journal

Copyright © 1994 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

What’s the difference between these two sentences?

“Washington is not an efficient, charming city.”

“Washington is a city of southern efficiency and northern charm” (John F. Kennedy).

The first is flat. The second has flair. One is prosaic, the other artistic.

Artistic speech is interesting, fresh, appealing. It fires the imagination. It speaks to the heart. It reaches corners of the human spirit that plain, literal speech misses.

While the strength of literal speech is clarity, the strength of artistic speech is depth. An artful phrase communicates at more than one level. It resonates with the soul more than Webster’s-accurate prose ever will.

No wonder artistic speech is used by the best contemporary communicators in speech or in print. It was certainly used by Jesus: “No one lights a lamp and hides it in a jar or puts it under a bed. Instead, he puts it on a stand so that those who come in can see the light” (Luke 8:16).

Few of us, though, have the time to do any more than salt our messages with artistic elements, primarily at the strategic points: the introduction, key sentences and paragraphs, and conclusion. Yet even a light sprinkling of artistry can add flavor. Here are seven ways to interest listeners.

COMPARISON

Good comparisons enliven the imagination and stir emotions. At a practical level, word pictures keep the interest of today’s visually oriented listeners.

Scripture is full of comparisons, both metaphors (“The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer”) and similes (“As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants after you, O Lord”).

Metaphors can enliven an already dramatic scene and help make abstract topics tangible.

In his sermon “Tide Riding,” the late Bruce Thielemann accomplished both of these effects in one short passage:

“My first pastorate was in McKeesport, Pennsylvania, which was famous at that time for having the world’s largest steel-tube rolling mills . … Many was the time I stood in one of those great machines … with the man operating the machine. I’d see a great serpent of molten metal come slithering down into the machine, and it would be chopped off. Then the machine would grab it by its end and begin to spin. By centrifugal force, that bar of metal would open from the inside out . … I asked the men directing those machines, ‘What’s the most important ingredient in the process?’

“The answer was always the same: ‘It’s the temperature of the metal. If it is too hot, it will fly apart; if it is too cold, it will not open as it ought. Unless you catch the molten moment, you cannot make the perfect tube.’

“Unless we catch those molten moments when character can develop, we miss our opportunities just as the disciples did.”

Thielemann heightens our interest in the steel mill by introducing the snake metaphor, and then he uses “molten moments” as a tangible way to talk about the abstract concept of opportunity.

It’s easy to misuse comparisons, however. Too many of the following mistakes, and listeners suffer confusion.

* Mixed metaphors. Multiple images in close proximity confuse rather than enlighten: “She charged into my office like a bull and fired one rocket of criticism after another.”

We are most prone to mix metaphors when using “dead” metaphors (ones so common we no longer recognize them as metaphors): “If you can’t take the heat [a dead metaphor referring to the discomfort of standing by a kitchen stove], start firing back [a military metaphor].”

* Overreaching. We reach too far when a comparison is illogical, weak, or nonexistent, or we stretch the imagination just a tad too far: “Love is the tree sap of human relations. It nourishes the leaves of our soul.”

* Adverse associations. “The gospel is as powerful as a nuclear bomb.” Though both things are powerful, the simile fails because it compares something glorious and life-giving–the Christian message -with something fearful and destructive–nuclear holocaust. Neither would you say, “Joy is as infectious as the bubonic plague” or “The Devil prowls the streets like Mother Teresa, looking for the weak and dying.”

CONTRAST

Contrast accentuates and intensifies, just as a match unnoticeable in the sunlight bums brightly in a deep cave.

In the conclusion of his sermon “Tide Riding,” Bruce Thielemann used contrast well:

“Please don’t say anything to me about tomorrow. Tomorrow is the word the Bible does not know. If you can find me any place in the Scriptures where the Holy Spirit of God says ‘tomorrow,’ I will step down from this pulpit and never step into it or any other pulpit for as long as I live.

“The Holy Spirit’s word is the word today. ‘Now is the accepted time; now is the day of salvation.’ ‘Today, if you will harden not your heart and hear my voice . … ‘

“Don’t say tomorrow … The word is today. Come to Christ today. Grow in Christ today. Serve in the name and in the spirit of Christ today.”

Christ used contrast to underline the difference between past and present, between his teaching and other teaching: “You have heard that it was said, ‘Do not commit adultery.’ But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart” (Matt. 5:27, 28).

Some of the most effective epigrams are merely clever contrasts: “War talk by men who have been in a war is always interesting; whereas moon talk by a poet who has not been in the moon is likely to be dull” (Mark Twain).

PARALLELISM

Parallelism is memorable.

“Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few” (Winston Churchill).

People would not decorate their bedroom walls with the Beatitudes if Christ had said, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Mourners will be comforted, so they’re blessed as well. The meek, who will inherit the earth, are blessed. God will bless those who hunger and thirst for righteousness by filling them full.”

Parallel structure highlights special distinctions of thought. “That comfort is not a knowledge that everything will be all right, but a knowledge that everything is under control” (John Hannah, in his sermon “Is There Any Comfort?”).

Or consider Haddon Robinson’s phrase about the proud Pharisee praying in the temple: “In the presence of God, he had a good eye on himself, a bad eye on his neighbor, and no eye on God.”

In his sermon “Living a Life of Integrity,” George Munzing uses parallel structure to show the relationship between abstract ideas. “Sow a thought, reap an act. Sow an act, reap a habit. Sow a habit, reap a character. Sow a character, reap a destiny.”

When a speaker piles up sentences and phrases in parallel structure, a tremendous sense of drama and emotion builds. “We shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender” (Winston Churchill, in a speech about Dunkirk in the House of Commons, June 4, 1940).

REPETITION AND REFRAIN

Repetition and refrain are another way to bring power to a sermon. Jesus used them not only in the Beatitudes but also when he chastised:

“Woe to you teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You shut the kingdom of heaven in men’s faces.”

“Woe to you teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You travel over land and sea to win a single convert.”

“Woe to you teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence.”

Or take a modern example, Martin Luther King, Jr.’s speech, “I Have a Dream”:

“Even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal.’

“I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveowners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood . … I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today.

“I have a dream that one day … little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers. I have a dream today.

“I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.”

This is one of the most dramatic speeches of the twentieth century, and the wave upon wave of “I have a dream” has embedded itself in the national consciousness.

(Of course, using repetition when the subject or setting doesn’t warrant only backfires. Don’t try it without passion. It will feel as awkward as wearing a tuxedo to a small group Bible study.)

HYPERBOLE AND UNDERSTATEMENT

Ironically, understatement emphasizes a point.

“Dying is bad for you” (Russell Baker).

“Nothing in life is so exhilarating,” said Winston Churchill, “as to be shot at without result.”

Understatement is a national sport for the British, while overstatement–hyperbole, exaggeration I is the American preference. Chuck Swindoll combines hyperbole and understatement to humorous effect in his sermon, “Reasons to Be Thankful”:

“When my wife and I were at Dallas Seminary back in the early 1960s, we lived in a little apartment that was a part of a small group of apartments that have since then been destroyed, I am happy to say. Hot and cold running rats–all the joys of home were there. In the summer the weather came inside, and it was hot. Hot? Hotter than you can imagine. Like a desert.

“That hot fall, we began to pray for an air conditioner; we didn’t have one. I remember through the cold, blowing winter–strange!–we were praying for an air conditioner. Through December, January, and February, we told nobody, we made no announcement, we wrote no letter; we just prayed.

“The following spring, before we were to have another summer there, we visited my wife’s parents in Houston. While there, one morning the phone rang. We hadn’t announced our coming; it was for a brief visit with her folks and mine before we went back to seminary. The phone rang, and on the other end of the line was a man I hadn’t talked to in months. His name happened to be Richard . …

“I said, ‘How are you?’

“He said, ‘Great! Do you need an air conditioner?’

“I almost dropped the phone. [Up to this point Swindoll’s delivery has been typically enthusiastic. Before the following line, however, he pauses and then calmly says,] ‘Uh, yes.’

“‘Well,’ he says, ‘we have just put in central air conditioning here, and we’ve got this little three-quarter-ton air conditioner that we thought you might like to have. We’ll bring it over and stick it in your trunk and let you take it back, if that’s okay.’

[Again Swindoll pauses and answers calmly]

“‘That’ll be fine, Richard. Bring it on over.’

“We put that thing in the window, and we froze winter and summer in that little place!”

As Swindoll shows here, using understatement in tandem with overstatement can help listeners “get it.”

Overstatement can be humorous–“Always do right. It will gratify some people and astonish the rest” (Mark Twain). Or it can have an edge to it: “If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away . … If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away” (Matt. 5:29, 30).

Explaining understatement or hyperbole to listeners is a mistake, though. Much of the impact comes from listeners’ getting it for themselves, and if they don’t, explaining only highlights failure. Another error is to commonly use adjectives such as rather, somewhat, very, super, or mega to under- or overstate.

ALLITERATION

Alliteration–using words that begin with similar sounds–accents comparison or contrast. “This time through a similar whirlwind, God brings not ruin but revelation, not disaster but disclosure.”

When we alliterate the key words of a sentence -the subject and verb, the verb and the direct object, a series of parallel words m the words fit, and the sentence sounds fight.

“If you accept Christ, righteousness can be a reality.”

“His career was ruined through laziness and lying.”

“The end of sin is sorrow.”

Alliteration is both a tool and a temptation. We’ve all abused alliteration in sermon outlines, forcing words to fit the scheme, even at the risk of confusing the meaning. If we find we have to explain an alliterative outline for it to make sense to listeners, we’ve probably gone too far.

PERIPHRASIS

One general rule of good communication is to keep it simple. Sometimes, though, saying something in a roundabout way can be more interesting. It’s call periphrasis.

Many biblical phrases could be shortened, but the periphrasis appeals to the heart and imagination. Instead of saying “David loves me and is a righteous man,” God says, “I have found David son of Jesse a man after my own heart” (Acts 13:22).

Describing a source for one of Shakespeare’s plays, instead of saying “a disorganized play,” Northrop Frye, in his book On Shakespeare, says, “A messy dog’s breakfast of a play.”

One common structure for periphrasis is a hyphenated phrase used as an adjective: “They lived in a co*ckroaches-have-the-right-of-way tenement house.”

Turned phrases–based on movie, book, or television titles, cliches, familiar quotations, Bible verses, or advertising slogans–make for arresting titles:

“When the Roll Is Called Down Here” (Fred Craddock).

“Glory to God in the Lowest” (Bruce Thielemann).

“Levi’s Genes” (Vic Pentz).

Turned phrases also draw an effective contrast: “How many times have you heard it said that in this world it’s not what you know but who you know that counts? And that is often true. But in God’s world, it is not what you know but who you are that counts” (George Munzing).

Wordplay can be used for serious purposes. Jack Hayford described in one sermon a divine message he received regarding his finances: “The reason things are so tight is because you’re too tight.”

Wordplay can highlight a comparison or contrast. “You’re very careful about your actions,” said one preacher. “Character is revealed by your reactions.”

Explaining a wordplay, or any artistic element, patronizes listeners. While clarity is a virtue in communication, so is subtlety, which allows listeners the pleasure of figuring things out.

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 8:38, 39).

Redwood-solid substance like this–expressed with contrast, repetition, parallelism, balance, variation, and climax–was written by an apostle who said, “I may not be a trained speaker, but I do have knowledge” (2 Cor. 11:6). He said he “did not come with eloquence or superior wisdom” (1 Cor. 2:1). He clearly could never be accused of putting style over substance.

The lesson for us is that we don’t have to choose substance over style or style over substance. For as biblical writers such as Paul and David and Isaiah and John knew, in the hands of serious communicators, artistic style is substance.

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Craig Brian Larson is a contributing editor to LEADERSHIP.

Copyright (c) 1994 Christianity Today, Inc./LEADERSHIP Journal

Copyright © 1994 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

In western Montana, a weed imported from France, spotted knapweed, plagues some of our best agricultural areas and is moving swiftly into wilderness areas. Only sheep will eat it. Cattle, deer, and elk won’t touch it. A meadow of knapweed won’t support a cow. A hillside of it will not feed elk. An infestation of knapweed can destroy a hay or grain field.

Beekeepers imported the plant for its purple blossoms that produce copious nectar even during drought years. The weed is unbelievably hardy, thriving in the driest of weather. It competes unfairly with natural flora; it grows over three feet tall so it shades shorter grasses. But if you clip it, knapweed will blossom at two inches off the ground.

Its most pernicious characteristic, however, is that knapweed is allelopathic. Knapweed’s roots secrete a toxic substance that stunts and even kills the plants in its vicinity.

Toxic weeds thrive in visions for ministry, too. It is just as true of spiritual tilth as it is of good dirt: “It will produce thorns and thistles for you” (Gen. 3:18). A fertile spiritual imagination is just as good at growing weeds as a crop. I’ve noticed at least three weeds that can flourish in my pastoral visions.

THE DREAM WEED

I love being somewhere long enough to watch kids grow up. I love preaching through whole books of the Bible. I love watching a church grow and change over time. I love presiding at funerals for people I’ve called on and loved for a long time.

But I really dislike receiving phone calls, back to back, one from Euodia telling me that we should have vacation Bible school in June because that’s the only time we can get any teachers, and one from Syntyche saying that we should have VBS in August because three years ago at a Christian ed meeting, didn’t we decide to always hold VBS in August to promote Sunday school?

What gripes me is that I know the real problem: these two don’t like each other and are playing a game to see with whom I will side.

In such moments sprouts the dream weed, a mental flash, a phantasm from a subconscious reservoir of restlessness. It speaks to our disgust with the mess of the ministry. It shows us a place of benefits without blahs. It may be another church, another career, or just winning the lottery–my kingdom for a day without human foolishness! And of course, it can all be had in a moment, enjoyed in rush-hour traffic or in the middle of a fight at a council meeting.

The dream weed is only a dream away: “I gotta get outta here!”

I’m not nay-saying daydreaming. Daydreaming can be an ally of ministry. Put to good use, the ability to live through experiences mentally is great for running through sermons, thinking through pastoral calls, and imagining what might be possible. God gave us the ability to “see” things in our minds.

However, I know this: the mental ability we use for daydreams, which God uses for visions, can be marshalled by our frustrations, our doubts, our anger, our self-pity, and our boredom. When these emotions control our mental scenery, our field of vision fills with dream weeds.

The dream weed is my weed of choice; I know it best. No other weed is this much fun. At Dream Weed University, I’ve gotten any number of Ph.D.’s, been a professor at every seminary in the country, and published hundreds of books and articles.

I’ve pastored big churches, the mythical kind where all you have to do is hang around with a totally cool staff who do the down-and-dirty work with all the messedup people. I’ve had offices where I didn’t have to answer the phone, and where three receptionists stood between me and Mr. McBlab, the parishioner with the personality disorder of critiquophilia.

PULLING THE DREAM WEED

How do you subdue such weeds? The best way is through confession and repentance. Confession is simply recognizing a false vision for what it is and speaking to God about it: “Here it is again, Lord; the old dream weed is back.” Repentance is simply returning to prayer for the right thing: for people, for the church, for stamina and joy.

Other strategies help. Dream weeds are intolerant of contact with anything specific. Jesus tells us to wash one another’s feet. There’s nothing dreamy about that.

So I call a grump. I go out and bless a curmudgeon. I immerse myself in the details of church work. I fix the leaky toilet in the men’s room. I pick the popcorn off the floor from the Wednesday night program. We have a custodian for that. But sometimes I need to do it.

Every Sunday morning before people arrive, I sweep the outside walks as metaphoric prayer. God talks to us in parables and metaphors, so I return the favor. I talk to him in a metaphor: “Lord, as I sweep this morning, help me commit myself to washing the feet of this church.” Then I take the broom and go up and down the concrete walks, brushing away the gravel, dirt, and bird droppings. I’m sweeping away daydreams. As I sweep I am parabolically committing myself before God to care for this particular church and these particular people.

With the dream weed gone, I find a reappreciation for my church. With my field of vision cleared, I can see that God has truly been in this place, and that he calls me to work here.

THE GREED WEED

My 15-year-old son and I were hunting white-tailed deer on a local cattle ranch. Evan was sitting quietly on a knoll overlooking a hayfield, waiting for game to appear. I sneaked around a section of cottonwood trees, willows, and brambles adjacent to the hayfield and walked through it, hoping to flush a nice buck into the field.

I didn’t disturb an animal, but I got covered with burrs. I don’t remember seeing the burr-bearing weeds, but when I emerged, my hunter’s-orange sweat shirt was covered with spiky burrs the size of ping-pong balls. Sharp-pointed fox tails coated my socks; they lost no time working through my cotton socks into the flesh of my ankle.

Rambling through a river bottom, praying for my congregation, I hope to flush out a vision for our corporate life. I never stumble upon a burning bush. I see cottonwood trees and a red-tailed hawk. I hear wind, rushing water, and a Clark’s nutcracker.

Visions come like Elijah’s still small voice–gentle-whisper visions, unobtrusive projections upon my imagination. They present themselves with the utmost modesty. They don’t demand faith; they inspire it. I don’t propel them; they propel me. I don’t need to flesh them out; they flesh themselves out in me and in my congregation.

When I pray for a parishioner, often I “see” the person in my mind. As I pray for people, often I see them not as they are, but as they could be. I see possibilities for them. I see what their life might become under the Lordship of Christ. These little visions don’t intrude or demand; they suggest and propose. They are the working capital of my pastoral calling.

Such visions are good, but opportunism clings to them like burrs. In the middle of “seeing” the building made new, the pews full, and our Sunday school bursting at the seams, I also see a mental image of a new fly rod that I could purchase with the raise I’d get if my ministry thrived. It sickens me.

When my spiritual imagination is at its best, I am also at my worst. Hedonism works its way into the fabric of my visions like foxtails into socks.

Too often greed sprouts are treated like playthings, harmless plants. They are not harmless. Greed was the sin of Hophni and Phinehas, the sons of Eli. They looked with “greedy eye” at the sacrifices and offerings of the people of Israel, “fattening themselves” on the choicest parts of the offering. Their sins brought down the house of Eli and their own lives.

Calling on a 96-year-old blind woman who lives in a tarpaper shack doesn’t present a conflict of interest. But put the same woman in a richly decorated home three times bigger than she needs, and visions of discipleship can become stuck with burrs and foxtail visions of big donations.

If the power of ministry is the love of God working in and through us, what happens to our power for ministry when we cast a greedy eye on the sacrifices and offerings? We stop seeing the person; all we see is her money.

Before I make a pastoral call on people with financial resources, I pray through my motivations vigorously and relentlessly. I have to pull the greed weeds.

When my mental landscape is congested with greed weeds, I try re-setting my timetable for the things I want. Greed has a crude intolerance for delayed gratification. Greed wants it now. I want a new fly rod (they aren’t cheap). So I reset my goal for getting a new fly rod by a year. We want to put new windows in the church. Not this year. We must wait. A new computer! Wait. A nice fat raise? Let the little ones build up over time.

Patience pulls greed weeds, and a patient heart is an inhospitable environment for greed weeds. Funny thing is, once the greed weeds are cleared away, love appears. The fruit of the Spirit grows best in a well-cleared field of vision.

THE HERO WEED

An old lady stuffed a note into my hand as she greeted me in line after church. She winked at me. Five years later, serving a different church, I have that note taped to the window in front of my office desk. It reads: “There is no limit to the good you can do, if you don’t care who gets the credit.”

I don’t keep that note for sentimental reasons. It’s there because, like most of us, I like being a hero. I like getting credit when things go right. Maybe my sagacious friend knew it.

When we desire hero status in our churches we become allelopathic to the people who serve with us. Like that toxic weed from France, we may come off as sweet as honey, but we stunt the growth of those around us. The poison of our pride places a limit on the good that we can do, and the good that those around us can do.

My visions are saturated with my face. It is repelling and embarrassing, but I must admit it: I can take a wonderful vision and muddy it with a mental image of my getting credit.

What a glorious vision to see a little country church on the brink of closing its doors come to life! What a sad splotch of spilled ink to see myself in front of packed pews basking in the glory of being the one the people came to hear.

It’s repulsive. But I can’t seem to eradicate the problem. Is the answer throwing out vision? If a vision is spoiled by an ego spill, must the picture be thrown out? Can any part of a vision in which I project myself as the hero ever be from God?

PULLING THE HERO WEED

It’s not a matter of throwing out visions, however. It is a matter of extracting our ego from them. What pulls the hero weed is private prayer.

A parishioner was going through an especially acrimonious divorce. Of course, there were darling children involved. Of course, the couple fought over everything, including the Jimi Hendrix albums. I prayed for all parties involved, but one of them attended church regularly, so I felt for him a special pastoral responsibility.

I wanted to save the day. I felt like it was my job to go in and make a difference. I knew well how my pastoral capital would go up if I had a profound impact on this person’s life and he shared it with people. I could “see” their accolades. I became more concerned with the glory for being a good pastor than being filled with love and pity for my suffering friend. That’s hard to admit.

A couple of times, I decided to give an afternoon of prayer to the guy. I can’t sit still and pray, so I walk. Well, when I took a long walk and prayed for him, I saw myself staying away from him. The vision was odd, unusual. My impression, though vague, was that my whole responsibility was to pray and stay away. Over and over I asked, “Is this right? Am I just supposed to stay away?”

I didn’t hear a voice; I just saw myself staying away. “But what if I get called on the carpet for not reaching out to him? Staying away makes me look uncaring.” Fear entered in. Ultimately I obeyed the quieter picture of my staying away and just praying for the person.

My interest piqued when, after his divorce, his church attendance picked up. A year after the dust settled, I visited the gentleman. We talked about his divorce. As he began, a deep confidence filled his eyes. The bitterness was gone. I knew he’d lived through hell. He recalled the difficult times. He did not dismiss the pain. But he went on to tell me that whenever he was at his lowest point, for some unexplainable reason, God had always showed up.

“When I was all used up and had nothing left, God was just there. He comforted me in my very darkest hours. God has been so good to me!”

This man, who few would have mistaken for a mystic, had learned to pray. He could hardly contain himself.

I could hardly contain myself. I wanted desperately to shout out “I prayed for you! I prayed for you!” Thankfully I held my tongue and smiled.

Private prayer is therapy for allelopaths.

A CLEARED FIELD OF VISION

As we pull the dream weeds, greed weeds, and hero weeds, we find a cleared field ready to produce a crop. True vision for ministry can grow.

In my mind, I can still see nails protruding from badly weathered siding. If you pounded them in, they popped back out. The eighty-year-old wood wasn’t worth another coat of white paint. The sanctuary was so poorly insulated that the water in the Christmas tree stand froze every December. Of course, the water pipes froze every winter too. The windows were cracked. The ceiling tiles bore yellowveined stains from the leaky roof. The concrete steps and sidewalks were decomposing.

I did not pray for the renovation of the sanctuary. Frozen pipes and peeling paint were the least of our problems. But as I walked through the woods praying for the church, in my mind I saw not a brokendown church building but a clean, white, renovated sanctuary. I did not realize it then, but “seeing” the renewed sanctuary was a vision. It was so modest a spiritual phenomenon that I barely took it into account.

These little visions never came as announcements, prophecies, or revelations. At no time did I feel a message had arrived from God to oversee the renewal of the sanctuary. I never thought that seeing a pretty building in my mind constituted a vision. But that gentle, unobtrusive Spiritwhisper became a focus for my ministry at that church.

So I never announced to the church council, “I have had a vision: our sanctuary is going to be made brand new, and we need to start working on it right away.” Fixing up the place never became an intentional goal, but for whatever reason, at council we began to talk about the building. We never talked about my vision or anybody else’s vision; we just started working away at fixing up the building.

Over nine years, little project by little project, the church was made new. We got a new roof. We applied new siding, insulated the walls, installed new exterior doors and double-paned windows. We added handicapped access. We poured concrete sidewalks and steps and painted the sanctuary walls and ceiling. We relandscaped the front yard, planted a new sign, and even insulated the crawl space under the building so the pipes wouldn’t freeze.

The sanctuary is now the brilliant white building I saw in my vision. Actually it is prettier than I thought it would be. The fulfillment exceeded the vision in beauty.

No aspect of church life is too spiritual or too material for visions. We need visions for deeper spirituality, more functional buildings, greater passion for God, steadier finances, and more effective Christian education. Seeing these ahead of time (even if not recognized as visions from God) constitutes the pastor’s spiritual field of vision. We simply need to clear that field of its weeds.

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David Hansen is pastor of Belgrade Community Church in Belgrade, Montana.

Copyright (c) 1994 Christianity Today, Inc./LEADERSHIP Journal

Copyright © 1994 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

What makes for a good vision statement? What should one include or leave out? One way to answer those questions is to look at examples. LEADERSHIP gathered statements of vision from various congregations across the nation.

Reach unchurched people in the Inland Empire

Help them grow in Christ

So we can together serve the Lord in ministry

– Community Baptist Church

Rancho Cucamonga, California

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To God’s glory, and through the power of the Holy Spirit, we are to become a healing community that intentionally does disciplemaking and evangelism while being committed to changing the facility to accommodate growth and planting a sister church.

– Wheaton Evangelical Free Church

Wheaton, Illinois

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As a church, we are to continue a strong pulpit ministry, teaching the Scriptures and the lordship of Christ, develop discipleship and stewardship among us, which must entail the devoting of our time, talents, and treasures to the service of God and others.

– The First Congregational Church (UCC)

Hamilton, Massachusetts

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To turn irreligious people into fully devoted followers of Jesus Christ.

– Willow Creek Community Church

South Barrington, Illinois

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We are to glorify God

by responding to the Lord Jesus Christ through

EXALTING him as Creator, Savior, and Lord

EXEMPLIFYING him and the values of his kingdom

EDIFYING his church

EVANGELIZING his world

ENCOMPASSING the past

ENRICHING the culture.

– Chapel Hill Bible Church

Chapel Hill, North Carolina

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First Baptist Church lives to glorify Christ by making disciples who are growing in relationship with God in worship, then with the church in fellowship, and with the world in witness.

– First Baptist Church

Wheaton, Illinois

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To provide a non-judgmental, relevant atmosphere; to introduce people to a personal, dynamic relationship with Jesus Christ; to encourage personal growth through teaching, caring, and sharing.

– South Coast Community Church

Irvine, California

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Our overall purpose is to bring honor and glory to Jesus Christ by obeying his command to make disciples of all nations. Specifically, our vision is to make Dry Creek Bible Church an equipping center which helps individuals become Christ-like in their lives and competent in Christian service so that together we might reach for Christ the non-believers in the Dry Creek community, in our Gallatin Valley neighborhoods, in our state and nation, and in the world.

– Dry Creek Bible Church

Belgrade, Montana

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The Belmont Church exists to exalt the Lord Jesus Christ, rejoicing in him, as we bring believers to maturity, draw people to Jesus, equip them to serve, and become a reconciling force in the body of Christ. Our cell-based church is to be a place where every member:

(a) is cared for and grows to maturity

(b) is equipped to serve and finds his/her place of service

(c) is praying for and seeking the lost, and

(d) is under authority and walking in authority.

– Belmont Church

Nashville, Tennessee

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We believe God’s vision for us is to be a contemporary church, believer based, seeker sensitive, creatively and consistently evangelizing, encouraging, establishing and equipping people in the Word and the Spirit to worship and witness. We are called to reach out intentionally, creatively, boldly and lovingly to the unconverted and unchurched. We are called to be a church of faith, hope, love, forgiveness, and acceptance, bringing people into Christian maturity.

– Lake City Church

Madison, Wisconsin

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To be a haven for worship and prayer;

To provide opportunities for instruction and fellowship;

To call all people to a life devoted to Jesus Christ.

– Creekside Free Methodist Church

Winfield, Illinois

Copyright (c) 1994 Christianity Today, Inc./LEADERSHIP Journal

Copyright © 1994 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

When the car rolled to a stop, Phil Davis nervously glanced over at his wife. He knew what Cynthia was thinking–Phil, what have you gotten us into this time? He wondered the same thing. They were parked in front of a low-income housing project.

Why did I agree to this? he thought. Oh well, I’ll just preach and leave.

He had been asked to speak at Galilean Baptist Church, a church plant in a rundown neighborhood of Charlotte, North Carolina. The pastor, who was white, was attempting to start an African-American church. That’s about all Phil knew.

As soon as he shut the motor off, however, Phil also knew he was overdressed. He had on a blue, pin-striped suit and a crisply starched button-down shirt with a red tie. He normally dressed that way: he was a corporate manager for a finance company. But in his heart of hearts, he was a preacher. Several years earlier, he had sensed God’s call to ministry.

The Davises got out of the car and climbed the rickety steps to a first-floor flat. There the members of Galilean Baptist -all seven of them–welcomed them: its pastor, his wife, their three kids, a blind elderly woman, and a shell-shocked war veteran with an uncontrollable twitch. The pastor pointed Phil to the living room, which doubled as the church sanctuary, and the service began.

“Whew!” Cynthia said on the drive home after the service. “I’m glad that’s over.”

“So am I,” Phil replied.

The next week, however, Phil got another phone call from the same pastor.

“Our church voted,” the pastor said, “and we’d like for you to pastor Galilean Baptist.”

“What?” Phil replied. “Who voted?”

“I’ve decided to resign,” the pastor continued. “Can you be here next week?”

This church just can’t close, Phil thought. The neighborhood had no other gospel witness. After considerable thought and a conversation with Cynthia, Phil accepted the “unanimous” call. And that, in short, is the improbable way that Phil Davis came to pastor Galilean Baptist Church.

Within a year, however, the church had grown to 45 attenders, and, with Cynthia working, Phil was able to quit his corporate job. The church moved from the cramped apartment to a vacant building up the road.

Phil rolled up his shirtsleeves and put his business skills to good use. He formed alliances with suburban churches, which shared resources and volunteers with Galilean Baptist. Soon the church started a food pantry, clothes closet, and ministry to drug addicts.

Two and a half years later, Phil sat at his desk, staring at his plans for a Christmas food drive. It suddenly struck him that most of his volunteers to distribute the food were white people from suburban churches. That bothered him.

Why are there no volunteers from middle-class black churches? he thought. He began to get upset. Hold it, he thought. What about me, God? What can I do?

He began scribbling on a sheet of paper, and a vision emerged: a church for professional African-Americans who would, in turn, minister to others. In two years, Phil would leave Galilean Baptist to plant Nations Ford Baptist Church.

BUSINESS DESIRES

Growing up in a divorced family with nine children, Phil split his early years between his Catholic father and his Baptist mother.

“We were po–that’s P-O,” he says, “which is a step below poor.”

But his mom scrounged up enough money to send him to private Catholic schools. Her hard work paid off when Phil got an academic scholarship to Xavier University. He majored in marketing and dreamed of the corporate world.

To graduate from Xavier, a Jesuit school, students were required to take several hours of religion. Phil put off that requirement until his senior year but finally signed up for a course called “Black Theology,” taught by a black Baptist preacher.

In the small class, the professor noticed Phil’s conspicuous disinterest but also his potential. One day, the professor asked Phil to stick around after class.

“God has a definite purpose for your life,” the professor said. Then he gave Phil two passages of Scripture to look up when he got home.

Later that evening Phil pulled out his Bible and opened it to one of the passages, John 15:16. Its words gripped him: “You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit–fruit that will last.”

Two days later, Phil, guided by his professor, chose to follow Christ. He immediately relayed the news to Cynthia, whom he had married a few months earlier. They began to attend the Baptist church where his mother attended. Upon learning of Phil’s conversion, his mother’s church friends said, “Phil, you’re going to be a great preacher someday.”

“Yeah, right,” he replied. “I’m going to be a businessman.”

But their words stuck in his mind.

THE PROMISE TO PREACH

After college, the Davises settled into the corporate life. Cynthia trained managers for the Bell system, and Phil worked in the marketing department of Dow Chemical. They remained in Cincinnati, Ohio, where both had grown up. Shortly after their son R.J. was born, however, the Davises moved to Bolingbrook, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago.

R.J.’s birth triggered something deep within Phil. Thoughts of preaching bombarded his mind. He couldn’t shake his college professor’s words nor the prophecy of his mother’s friends. His son’s birth turned up the volume even louder.

“I began to make excuses,” Phil says. “I said, ‘Lord, I can’t preach because of R.J. I need to spend time with my son.'”

Not long after moving to Bolingbrook, Phil got a call at work. The call was from the pre-school R.J. attended.

“You need to pick up your son immediately,” the administrator said, “He is not acting like himself. He has messed his pants and is very listless. Something is definitely wrong with him.”

When Phil arrived, R.J. was sitting in the school office with saliva dripping off his chin. A few minutes after they arrived at home, R.J. went into convulsions and foamed at the mouth. Phil called 9-1-1, and the ambulance arrived minutes later.

“Don’t follow us to the hospital,” one of the paramedics said. “Call your wife and meet us there in a few minutes.”

As Phil headed for the front door, he suddenly felt paralyzed.

“I felt God’s presence,” he says. “I sensed him saying, ‘Phil, I need you to go preach.'”

“I promise, Lord,” Phil replied.

What seemed like forever was only a few seconds, and suddenly Phil was able to move again. He rushed to the hospital, and when he arrived, R.J. was sitting up and playing with the nurses. He seemed perfectly normal. The doctors kept R.J. for a week, running every test possible. They found nothing.

Phil determined to make good on his promise. He planned to start a Bible study in his Bolingbrook home. The day before the first meeting, however, Cynthia bumped into an African-American pastor while shopping. He handed her a card that read, “Join us tomorrow for the first worship service of Alpha Baptist Church in the Bolingbrook High School.”

So, the Davises scrapped their Bible study and joined with Alpha Baptist, a Southern Baptist church. Feet first, they jumped into ministry. They taught Sunday school and led the youth ministry. Phil preached occasionally and began attending Moody Bible Institute. Shortly thereafter, Alpha Baptist Church issued him a preaching license.

But still, Phil was frustrated. He chafed under the yoke of corporate America. The long hours exhausted him, keeping him from his first love–ministry.

RIGHT MOVE, ROUGH TIME

But Phil’s corporate stock was on the rise. He was up for a promotion and a transfer. After much prayer, the Davises moved to Charlotte. The first year there, however, was not kind to them. Phil began to have “buyer’s remorse.”

“Buyer’s remorse,” Phil says, “is the marketing term for the regret you feel after making a major purchase. I thought I had sensed God’s leading but suddenly had serious doubts.”

Cynthia, who had trained managers for the Bell system in Bolingbrook, couldn’t find a job at Southern Bell in Charlotte. There was a glut of trainers. Then, Phil lost his job, his entire division eliminated without warning. Thanksgiving of 1981, a year after their move, looked grim. The Davises had only $100 to their name. One morning while listening to a Christian radio station, Phil heard that the station was collecting donations and clothing for the needy. He and Cynthia decided to give $50 and also some of their clothes. When he took both over to the radio station, he struck up a conversation with the station manager. Phil began telling her about his heart for ministry. One thing led to another.

“What would you think about doing a radio program?” the station manager said.

“What?” Phil replied. “I’ve never been on the radio before.”

“So what. I want you to do it.”

“But I don’t have any experience,” Phil argued. “Besides, I have no money.”

“I’ll give you a half hour every week on Saturday morning,” she continued. “Call it what you want. The time is yours.”

So Phil began preaching on the radio. Not long after, the pastor of Galilean Baptist called Phil to preach for him. It was the call that would finally propel him into full-time ministry and ignite a vision to reach middle-class African Americans.

SPEAKING THE CORPORATE LANGUAGE

Six years after its beginning, there are three Sunday services at Nations Ford Baptist Church. The vision: to be a regional, full-service church reaching people of all races, enhancing their quality of life, by ministering to the whole man–spirit, soul, and body. Many skills and experiences Phil acquired in the corporate world serve him well in the world of ministry.

“Like Moses with his rod,” Phil says, “God told me to throw down my business skills and aspirations. By giving me this vision for Nations Ford, he asked me to pick them up again.”

No doubt Phil understands the pressures of being a professional African-American. In a recent sermon, he said, “God does not come to take sides but to take over. Life is a constant choice between God’s agenda or our agenda.

“When Junior comes home and asks for a $200 Charlotte Hornets jacket, you have a conflict between two agendas. God’s agenda is not buying that $200 jacket but buying an $80 jacket and giving the rest to missions.”

One young woman began attending Nations Ford, but her husband, an insurance executive, refused to come. One Sunday, to get her off his back, he showed up at church. Phil’s message that morning was peppered with illustrations from the corporate world. The insurance executive left the service saying to Phil, “You and I need to have lunch.”

When they did, Phil challenged him: “A lot of people balk at coming to church because they feel it’s not relevant to their life. All I ask is that you judge me for who I am and don’t hang any labels on me.” That man is now the lay director of Nations Ford Sunday school. Men, in fact, compose 43 percent of Nations Ford Church. Phil has discovered that corporate types rise to a challenge.

“When people join our church,” Phil says, “we say, ‘Here’s what is expected of you. If you can’t live up to these expectations or you don’t like what you see and hear, we’re probably not the church for you.

“But we also say, ‘We promise to train you to do what God has called you to do.’ They understand the need for training and expect us to equip them.”

RE-TOOLED PROFESSIONALS

Just up the street from Nations Ford Church lives the grand wizard of the Mecklenburg County KKK. So do many of his followers. To this day, they shoot handguns at a target set up near a back corner of Nations Ford’s property.

Socio-economically, many of the KKK are, as Phil says, “second cousins to the blacks living in the housing projects.” They have low-skill jobs and often need money for food and rent.

That’s where Nations Ford steps in. They provide these people with food from their food program and on occasion help them make their rent payment. Many of these working poor are unaware of the services provided by the city, so Nations Ford links them with the information they need to get low-interest loans and clean up their yards. Many of the area KKK even vote at Nations Ford Church.

Ministry to the neighborhood KKK represents only a slice of Nations Ford’s outreach. But it shows that another church vision has become reality.

Copyright (c) 1994 Christianity Today, Inc./LEADERSHIP Journal

Copyright © 1994 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.