On the Closing of a Church

It's pretty darn sad when a church closes its doors. Yesterday I attended the final service of a small Presbyterian church in my town. It began as a mission of a larger Presbyterian church, planted in a mill neighborhood in 1919. Ideally, the church would have been there as a beacon of hope and proclaimer of grace. Maybe it was.

Over the years the neighborhood changed, as neighborhoods are wont to do. It became integrated, perhaps even predominately black. The congregation did not change. It did not integrate. Why? I picked up one of the visitors cards from the pew yesterday. It originated from the 60s, and depicts clean cut smiling folks - women in hats and gloves. The families on the visitor card do not reflect the demographic of the neighborhood.

I attend the largest Presbyterian church in town. We once boasted a congregation of close to 1,000. I think there may be 300-400 on the church rolls today. Our church is located near downtown. In our case too, the demographics of the church do not match the demographics of the neighborhood. The church does reach out to the neighborhood, serving lunch every Saturday (the only day of the week the week the Salvation Army does not offer a meal). But in worship on Sunday morning, most of the faces are white.

I sit on the session of the church, and the decline in membership is a concern. I can imagine session meeting from the church that just closed sounding similar. How much of a concern is it truly? Are we willing to change the demographics of the church? Are we willing to integrate? How 'bout changing worship, sharing power, opening up to CHANGE?

Part of God's great charm is that he always calls us into a wider place. But getting there means being open to change, discomfort, and pain. The alternative is a long, slow death. May God grant us all the grace to follow where his Holy Spirit leads.