Sometimes I see those things where it’s like Thirty Under Thirty or Twenty Under Forty or whatever. It’s a clever way of spotlighting folks who are doing cool things, getting things done. When I run into those lists I usually think, “Gosh I’ve never been chosen as anything under anything.” Yes, that is envy, I’ll name it and claim it.
What I was thinking is that I might start a list of 100 under 100.
One Hundred People Under the Age of One Hundred Who are Keeping Churches Alive in 2023!
Captivating, right?
It will probably be hard to find them because it takes a LOT OF WORK to convince people that going to church in the modern world is worthwhile.
It might also be hard to find one hundred.
I had to push the age criteria way up there because … obvious, I guess.
And, of course, keeping churches alive will have to be defined more clearly.
While I was in Colorado recently I went to one of my favorite places on the entire planet: the St. Benedict’s Monastery in Snowmass. I have my own thoughts about cloistered living (I think it’s kind of selfish and not really what God wants for us, having plopped us in skin IN the world), but I’m able to suspend those ideas to enjoy the surroundings there: 4000 acres of prime Colorado land, surrounded by mountains, with several really nice buildings.
I went to church there on Sunday morning, checking out the competition, so to speak.
I grew up in the Catholic tradition, so I was prepared for the endless stand/sit routine. I knew what was happening with the hushed, pious tones and the general pall over the proceedings. What I did not understand was what the priest meant when, during the homily he said, “People come to me and tell me that their life is too easy, they say they need more of a challenge in their lives.”
It took me so long to unscrew my twisted-up forehead trying to figure out what planet Brother Something lives on where he encounters people who are begging him for a harder life that I pretty much missed the rest of what he said, so I’m not really sure what the overall message was.
I wondered if he had been UFO’d in that morning. Then I thought, Ok, well, Aspen, maybe …
The other thing I didn’t understand was why no one, not one single person, said hello to me. No one reached out the hand of hospitality, including the SEVEN PRIESTS running the show.
But later in the day when someone told me that the monastery is probably going to shut down pretty soon, it all made sense.
Duh.
But, sputter, sputter …
FOUR THOUSAND ACRES of prime Colorado majesty.
Buildings galore.
Seven spiritual leaders (and boy, did they look tired).
How is possible to let this opportunity go to waste in a world where (that one Brother doesn’t live) everyone is having a really hard time?
One hundred under one hundred.
I might start looking today.
I have to figure out the criteria.
A welcoming handshake when I come to your church, that’s up there.
Truth in messaging. For sure.
Intelligent use of facilities. No brainer.
I remember when I started at the last church where I worked. Participation was dwindling. The building was way too big for the size of the group that came each week. People asked me, “what do you plan to do to get people to come to church?”
Espresso machine?
Cute outfits?
Movie night?
I mean, what is it that people think church is supposed to be?
Nothing, I told them. I’m going to be myself, my messy, dumb, flawed self, and when people come if they find what they’re looking for then they’ll come back again. And maybe they’ll tell their friends and they’ll come too.
Hey, guess what? It worked.
And it’s working again, here at this church where we do our little thing every Sunday morning in cute little Peru, VT.
We sing a lot. This past weekend: Help! (Beatles) and Russian Lullaby, which brought some of us to tears.
When I talk I encourage audience participation. I got really sick of blahblahblahing all the time so I started asking people to share their stories and experiences, so now the message time is much more alive and way more interesting. I’m just one person with one life to draw from, but on any given Sunday there might be 30 or 40 or 50 people there, and when we think of the collective experience in a situation like that … that’s where the magic is. That’s what it’s all about.
I think about it all the time: what is church and who cares anymore?
But then I look around and I see a lot of lost people. People trying to figure it out and not coming up with anything helpful.
The mistake churches make is in believing that they know what’s going on. No one does. There are no answers, just an endless stream of questions. So a good church, one that won’t be turned into condos in the next few years, is humble and willing to say outloud, we don’t really know, but we’re here to hold your hand while we walk through this mess together.
Excellent music is key because it’s music that resonates with the beat of the human heart. Some hymns are nice, but many are scary and worn-out.
Praying is really important. But probably not the kind where you close your eyes and fold your hands and bow your head. I mean, who am I to judge, but I tend to favor the eyes wide open, fists raised, voice on the verge of tears what the hell is going on here? kind of prayer. I also love a good thank you. At night before I go to bed I thank the moon, the trees, the woodland creatures, the snow, the sky for being here alive with me.
I think it’s all been taken way too seriously for way too long.
One of the first ‘miracles’ Jesus performed was turning water into wine.
People … come on.
It was practically a party trick.
It’s kind of funny.
The disciples were not the sharpest scythes in the barn. Jesus must have rolled his eyes a thousand times dealing with those bumbleheads.
Where did all the heaviness, the seriousness come from?
Life is weird and funny and strange and if you don’t find some of that when you go to church, well, then you should stay home and eat waffles on Sunday morning.
Or keep looking. Sometimes it takes a while.
Do churches matter? Yea, they do. But they can’t take themselves too seriously and the people running them have to stop thinking they’re important and the ridiculous system of ordination needs to be tossed on the funeral pyre. Everyone is ordained by birthright. Everyone is beloved, all the time. We are all here to turn water to wine, our missteps into grace. When you go to church, and you should, someone should look you in the eye and tell you they’re glad you’re there.
One of the things we do a lot at the Peru Church is clap. We do it all the time, when someone introduces themself, when someone’s dog has a birthday, when the band sings. It’s kind of a beautiful mess, the stuff that we do.
When you go to church you should feel like your heart is safe there. Because the rest of the world is scary most of the time. You should feel like you can just sit and breathe and that your story matters there. Your time in church should answer some of the questions you have about who or what God is.
There should be hot coffee and good cookies and you should be welcome to eat them while the service is happening. The work of the soul is arduous and snacks are critical.
And not to push my 100/100 agenda too vehemently, but if you find a pastor with messy hair and ratty Carhartts, take it as a good sign.
xomo
Amen! I would definitely come to your church. That’s about the only one at this point. ❤️
REALLY good one!! Thx