Trusting and Trying

Westminster is in Barrie, Ont.— a growing city. We’ve had people pass away and move. There is some changeaphobia. We don’t have any money in the bank. And lo and behold, there are a few people who don’t always get along. Sound familiar? Six years ago a question wafted in the air: Will we survive?
If you’re reading this it’s because hope is arising.

In the past five years we’ve been faithful. The number of worshippers has gone from 65 to over 90. Although some folks are no longer with us, we have 50 new members and many adherents (with more on the way). Numbers aren’t that important. Disciples are. Over half of those in worship were not here four years ago. We’re a slightly older group but are getting younger. Diversity is good when it reflects your community.

Can we make any generalizations to explain why things are going in the right direction? Does some of the good have to do with introducing a strategic plan, or some praise songs, or different programs, or something else? Church isn’t a one-size-fits-all thing. If we don’t make the right generalizations this exercise can mess up our thinking.

I wasn’t totally sure about the right generalizations so I just asked. The most popular responses were: an “alive vibe,” congregational warmth, the gospel boldly preached, young people in leadership, a growing outward-helping focus, uplifting music, good use of technology, Christ-centred kids’ camps, being more inclusive of children, a strategic plan, tenacity, more people on the Pre-Authorized Remittance program, the willingness to try new ideas, a building that doesn’t strangle us, and many grind-it-out volunteers.

It was still hard to find the common threads. So let me share six key moments that sparked change:

Many people had seen the tombstone. That’s a motivator for a spirit of openness. I think it’s happening in the Presbyterian Church. Nothing motivates change like the smell of death. Many of the key leaders remember seeing the plot and didn’t like it. Also, many of the new folks haven’t come from Presbyterian backgrounds and therefore don’t bring a perspective of how things ought to be. I’m not sure what that means, but there you go. There’s an openness going forward.

Key leaders decided to sweat it out and have hope. About eight key individuals decided that the mission of the church would continue come hell or high water. High water was better. One person said: “The safest place for ships is in the harbour, but that’s not why ships were built.”

The church called a minister who believes in the gospel, who loves people and wants to engage the culture around us. And then they supported him. This seems strange because I’m talking about me. But it’s essential to say because not much is said about leadership. And some of us don’t have the guts to say that a lot of crisis is leadership crisis. Author and rabbi Edwin Friedman contends that the nature of the leader’s presence, their emotional health and their ability to communicate and take care of themselves is a major factor of influence in any organization. So far, God’s “fit” is working. Westminster has considered my wellness and set up a human resources team to help. If the minister isn’t well—spiritually, physically and mentally—they can (often) be a barrier to wellness for a church. Meetings most evenings is an illness. No balance or family time is a horrible example. Ministers need to be well to be prayerful, learning and creative—not to do it all themselves, but to equip others for the work of ministry. To my mind, if I’m not growing, how can I expect the congregation to grow spiritually? I’m not always the best at this, but I try.

We got a request for help. In 2009, during the H1N1 flu pandemic, the hospital didn’t have enough space, so they requested the church be an intake centre. That was a major turning point. Somewhat rusted door hinges swung more fully open. We realized what we were capable of. It felt good. The congregation has since become increasingly outward-focused. It’s a work in progress. But as one person who joined the church shortly afterward said, “I saw that on the news and thought, ‘Hey, that place is involved; count me in.'”

All of a sudden people realized they didn’t know who everyone was anymore. That’s still the case. It became a blessing to have to work to learn people’s names. It was a key moment because we started to ask the question: How welcoming are we, really? And then, how can we help people grow?
We got a plan. We went to the Stewards by Design conference and it helped our outlook. It wasn’t just about money, but about mission and vision. It’s a work in progress; our plan already needs updating. But if you need vision, are tired of feeling bad, want to identify and build on your strengths and get a vocabulary to engage your changed neighbourhood, dive into the world of this strategic planning approach. It’s not for everyone, but it will vivify your thinking. I have found that if people trust that the direction is faithful and good, then change can be supported. Notice how I didn’t say “easy.” The benefit of change isn’t survival—it’s vitality.

So what are the generalizations? Only God really knows; and no technique is sovereign. But I think we can still learn something from this. Here are two things:

A growing spirit of openness and grace. That’s hard. And rare. It means being welcoming and truly caring. Learning names and more. Engaging new things like technology and a different kind of ministry if it doesn’t contradict the gospel. The old days are gone—forever. So it means letting some of the tension go and trusting that God is actually who He says He is and that we are His. Remember the word covenant? It means checking in on people and taking over some soup; saying you’ll pray for someone and actually doing it; showing generosity toward people who are unlike us; confidently walking out the doors to live as Christians, not coming in the doors to hide. It means being gracious in and to a world in which we are a bit uncool, but that needs grace anyway.

This is big: At Westminster it’s all about the Lord Jesus. Key leaders have a vital relationship with Jesus Christ. Key successes are grounded in Jesus Christ. If hearing that name too much makes you uncomfortable, Houston, we have a problem. We know that Christ died for us and we are trying to love him and each other because of it. It’s all about the Lord Jesus. At Westminster, people come because they have heard of us or have been invited, feel at home, encounter the unique gospel message of Christ and his love and are somehow encouraged or equipped in their lives in a relevant way.

We need to be trying to be excellent. I’m tired of mediocre. Same is no longer good enough. Gospel, sacraments, education, care, community, mission—Yes. But we can’t assume anyone knows anything about what those things are, why we do them, or even what our faith means. For many, walking into the church is like walking into a mosque in Istanbul. A totally foreign experience. We need to help them, and ourselves, discover the brilliance of Jesus.

We need to be disciples and then teachers to communities in tatters—parched for truth and hope. At Westminster, many of the new people have first checked out the website and got a “feel” for us, or they have talked to a friend, and then they show up to see how they’ll be welcomed. And in these changing times we need to treat every single person who takes a leap of faith, packs up the family and comes to a strange thing called a worship service on a Sunday morning when everyone else is hitting the snooze button, like a direct miracle from God Almighty.

In our own flawed way we are trying to be excellent. We’re on the road. Many people have differing opinions about where the ditches are and what the speed limit is. But there is a growing spirit of openness and grace and it’s all about the Lord Jesus. Who knows? We’ve got a three-year plan, but we’re also going month by month on two knees at a time. Igor Stravinsky once wrote a new musical piece that had a very difficult violin passage. After several weeks of rehearsal a player said it was too hard, even unplayable. Stravinsky replied, “I understand that. What I am after is the sound of someone trying to play it.”

That’s us. With Christ alone—trusting and trying.