I came across a viral clip a few years back where a faithful Baptist pastor was rebuking his congregation for minimal investment. They arrived late, left early, sat in the back, attended half the time, and treated church like a consumer commodity. I think this brother is exactly right! Baptists, of all people, have no stomach for half-hearted investment. We’re participants in the New Covenant. We have been forgiven of our sins, each of us — man, woman, child — we know the Lord, and each of us has been filled with the Spirit (Jer. 31, Heb. 8). Our core ecclesiological conviction is that the Spirit indwells each believer for the mutual upbuilding of the church into Christ (see Eph. 4:15-16). As a pastor, I get the frustration at this kind of thing!
But the irony of this sermon clip — and the reason it went semi-viral — was that the pastor issued this rebuke via simulcast across multiple campuses with a crystal-clear picture as he stood in front of a large LED screen on an obviously high-tech and expensive stage. The pastor faithfully, rightly urged his church, “You should be more invested! You’re part of the body of Christ! You’re not consumers!” But everything else — the screens, the campuses, the lights, the stage, the technology — said exactly the opposite. The pastor’s call was for deep investment, but the church’s form was at odds with this call.
In my previous article, I argued that our forms often run counter to our purposes. As Marshall McCluhan famously said, “The medium is the message.” We love fellowship, discipleship, and evangelism, but often our ministry structures don’t facilitate that purpose; rather, they obstruct it — like a chair we can’t sit in.
A Brief Caveat
The spirit of this piece is to point out some incongruities in our thinking, not to be critical of any church’s ministry methods. I want to walk a careful balance here. I believe all of what follows rests squarely on the wise/unwise or good/better axis, not right/wrong. Yet I do not think these matters are just matters of preference.
I love being a Baptist and observing the diversity of churches within our convention. I am burdened, however, to see my brother pastors think critically about some ways they may be unintentionally perpetuating some of the issues they work so hard to resolve. So how might our forms be at odds with our aims? We’ll consider this in four areas: membership, worship, leadership, and technology.
Membership
There’s a paradox in belonging to an institution. The more that is required of you, the more invested you become. Why do people love CrossFit? It makes demands on them! It calls something substantial out of you. Anyone can take part, anyone willing to step into the hardship of the Murph, the Cindy, Helen, or Fran.
If we want deep investment in our church, we must have something like meaningful membership. We must call people to sacrifice; to sacrificial attendance, giving, relationships, and the like. Historically, Baptists have practiced covenant membership where there were clear expectations and demands placed on those who belong to the church. Belonging is, of course, a great privilege and joy, but it must also call members to responsibility.
What happens if we don’t practice membership, or treat membership flippantly, perfunctorily? Belonging that costs nothing is belonging that means nothing. Do you practice membership? Is the body involved in the membership process? Is there any sense that the church has a responsibility to care for the church by vetting membership? Do you practice church discipline? Is there any expectation for those who would become members? A low bar for belonging creates a low bar for investment.
Worship
Every Sunday we come together to worship the Lord Jesus, who died for our sins, freed us from the domain of darkness, and released us from slavery. And He’s done all this, not just for me, but for us. He’s redeemed a people! How is this reflected in your gatherings? Consider this thought experiment: If you removed the congregation from the gathering, what would change about the gathering? Could the elements on stage run along just the same? Did clearing out the room during COVID-19 change anything, or did it just relocate the audience?
The word “liturgy” literally means “the work of the people.” We come together to worship — we come together as the body! Thus the methods we employ in our gathering should facilitate the worship of the whole body. If we never include lay people in our service, if lay people never go on stage, if there are no responsive elements or any space for people to pray, or moments where we pause to pass the peace or welcome our neighbor, we may be inadvertently communicating that professionals produce a “product” to be received by an “audience.” There’s a subtle distinction reinforced week after week between the stage and the church that is unhealthy and, ultimately, alienating.
What about our song and environmental choices (lights, volume, stage, etc.)? Do they encourage congregational involvement? I often joke with our church that there are great Christian songs for jamming at the red light, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re great for singing at church. Why? Because there are some songs most people can’t sing. If deacon Joe can’t intuit the melody, understand the lyrics, or keep up with the pace of the song, then that song is teaching him not to sing. We urge people, “Sing out! Sing loud!” but how will they if it’s too syncopated or in a key most can’t access? It’s a chair, but it doesn’t allow for sitting. And the result is our people learn not to engage. Again, we’re subtly telling them, “We don’t need you to engage.” Our choices here say something to our body, regardless of what we say to our body.
Leadership
“Equip the saints for the work of the ministry,” Paul writes in Ephesians 4:12. Our choices here say something to our body, regardless of what we say to our body. Are our ministries led exclusively by staff, or do lay people have any meaningful responsibility? Staff-led ministry is much easier, to be sure. Lay leadership is not exactly crisp — I’m well aware. But if the goal is to nurture the vine and not maintain the trellis, then giving leadership to lay people will actually encourage their commitment and investment in the body. What message are we sending to the congregation if only paid staff are entrusted with financial decisions or leading the music or playing in the band or scheduling our kids’ volunteers?
Technology
Technology can be a gift to God’s church, but it’s not something we should embrace uncritically. One of the primary reasons we use technology is because it makes things more convenient. It makes announcements easier, we can communicate more directly, and we can make the worship gathering available via livestream. But should we make the gathering available? Accommodations for the weak and homebound are a good and merciful thing, but if our motivator is making worship easier for folks, we are agreeing with them that the gathering is useful inasmuch as it is convenient.
Conclusion
There’s (always) so much more that could be said, and I hope I have posed some questions to encourage us to think through the way our forms of our ministry are related to our aims in ministry. My heart’s desire is to see flourishing, vibrant Baptist churches in our state, “grow[ing] in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ” (2 Pet. 3:18). I believe this comes from an honest assessment of both our intentions and the forms we employ.
— Trevor Hoffman is a teaching pastor at Ridgewood Church in Greer.