by Bart L. Denny, Ph.D., Th.M.
Really. I think I'm going to knuckle down and do it. I want to write a book. I'm going to base the book off my dissertation research, but will try to rewrite in such a way that it will be useful to people besides professors and other doctoral students writing their own dissertations.
This is the first draft of my introduction. What do you think?
Introduction
“Where is
everybody?!”
Buella’s dismay was as
unmistakable as her New York accent, which hadn’t faded despite her sixty years
as a Florida resident. At 101, she still drove herself to church, the grocery
store, and the beauty parlor. Frankly, she was livelier than almost anyone else
present among the dwindling congregation.
“This is
terrible!”
The centenarian
widow and forty-five-year member of the small, struggling church continued in
shocked disappointment.
“This place used to
be packed!”
Yet the little
Southern Baptist church near Tampa had been nowhere near packed during the
month or so that I had been preaching the Sunday morning sermon there. I say
“little” church, but the building, modestly sized as it was, swallowed up what
was left of the congregation. I couldn’t help wondering how the church’s sorry
state could somehow seem like a surprise to Buella. Had she only now noticed? I
rather doubted it.
Buella recalled the
congregation’s better days—when children, teenagers, and young families
worshiped in a vibrant community—but those days appeared long gone. And the
decay process hadn’t taken place overnight. The church hadn’t had a pastor in
over two years; before that, there hadn’t been a pastor stay longer than a
couple of years for over a decade. Before that, there had been some feuds, some
church splits. At 62, Gloria was the “baby” of the church. She had worshipped
there as a youth from the day of the church’s founding some fifty years before.
Now she happily led congregational singing—and like at Burger King, she had it her
way.
Perhaps once in the
eight weeks that I preached to and consulted with that church’s leadership (Glenn,
the deacon), did anyone under forty ever darken the doors on a Sunday
morning. The church was uninterested in having another, more prosperous church
help it revitalize if it meant giving up an ounce of that prized Baptist
“church autonomy.” I saw little hope the church could ever recover. I reported
to the local association of the Southern Baptist Convention I thought the
church’s prospects were dim. Still, a pastor friend of mine was willing to try
to lead it in that direction before concluding some eight months later that the
church would not heed the warning—coming from me, my friend, local
denominational officials, and likely others—that the congregation must “change
or die.”
Just a few months
before, I spoke to the pastor of another nearby Southern Baptist church in
similar straits, who concluded, “Nobody wants to go to church anymore.” For my
part, I could see why they wouldn’t want to go to his church. More than
that, it was clear to me, as I quietly observed the rather lifeless worship
service, that many of the church attendees appeared to be related to the
elderly pastor, who struggled to preach much of a sermon. I’m sure things used
to be different. But I couldn’t help but wonder if many of those few in
attendance—especially those who appeared to be in their thirties or
younger—wouldn’t move on when the pastor (Grandpa? Uncle? Dad?) either passed
away or became too debilitated to continue even the charade of ministering to
the church.
Just a few months
later, near Grand Rapids, Michigan, I visited and consulted the leadership of a
declining church. I asked them to tell me what had happened. How had the church
arrived at a place where attendance was a fraction of days gone by, and young
adults and children were notably absent?
These men—over 70, all
but one of them—explained what happened: people drifted off, gradually
at first, and then at a more accelerated pace, especially as family members
followed relatives and friends followed friends. But I had already surmised
that. That’s what always happens. What baffled these gentlemen was the why?
Why—really, honestly—had all those people, especially the working-aged ones
with children at home, left? Like every other dying church—at least every struggling
church not in complete denial of a problem—this one was perplexed about why
people had left.
For small churches (especially), it’s a big problem.
I’m not the first
one to say it.
Just Google a few
terms like “church decline” or “church closure,” and results galore document
the heartbreaking trend. From what I’ve seen, read, and heard in discussions with American pastors from all over the nation and
representing the full spectrum of Christian denominational traditions, this
story repeats itself in most churches in the United States.
I could only
find statistics from the Southern Baptist Convention, the largest Protestant
denomination in the United States. The SBC admits that about 900 of its congregations
close every year. Of course, the denomination plants new churches and receives
established churches from other backgrounds into its fellowship every year.
Still, the net loss for this single, admittedly large denomination is at least
250 to 300 churches annually. If the SBC’s trends are similar to those across
the spectrum of American evangelicalism, as I suspect they are, that could mean
that a net of 3,500 to 4,000 churches are closing each year without being replaced
by another congregation in the local area.
Most of these churches were small—tucked away in communities where they were easily accessible. This means that thousands of potential neighborhood Gospel lighthouses are gone for good. I say
“potential neighborhood Gospel lighthouses” because most dying churches ceased
to be lights to their communities long before they closed. If revitalized (or the facilities passed on to a new church plant),
they might serve that function again. However, that won’t happen if the
property is sold to become a gas station (I’ve seen it before) or a strip mall.
No longer kingdom real estate, that location can never again serve as a
beachhead for penetrating the community with the Good News of Jesus Christ.
Some of the excuses
Church leaders and
members who will admit to a problem usually do so because the church’s decline has
become glaringly obvious. They often have theories about the causes of the
decay. The first blamed is typically the nearest megachurch.
Blame the megachurch.
I get it. In my
own experience as a newly-minted pastor of a small, dying church, I heard it.
“Pastor, we hate to leave, but we’re going to Up-the-Road MegaChurch
because we need a church with programs for our kids.” I was still new enough to
look objectively at our church and admit that I could hardly blame them.
And even as the
American church, as a whole, is in a state of free fall, the truth is, right
now, in the post-COVID world of 2023, most megachurches are bucking that trend.
No, they typically aren’t seeing explosive growth anymore. But for the most
part, megachurches aren’t declining either. And despite the prevalent notion I’ve
found in small, struggling churches, megachurches as a whole have not
compromised fundamental Christian principles to reach an accommodation with
American culture.
An intellectually honest
examination of the megachurch phenomenon, in its entirety (not just the
scandalous exceptions), generally does not reveal a watered-down version of
Christianity that is “soft on sin.” Yes, invariably, they hear Sunday morning
services delivered by pastors who are dynamic and gifted communicators. Most
preachers—myself definitely included—could only hope to speak the way they do. But
these pastors—and I know a few of them personally—are not preachers who “tickle
the ears” of attendees.
Certainly, many refugees
from dead and dying churches find a home in megachurches. But, for the most
part, a truthful look at those who have migrated over does not reveal
disgruntled, religious consumers looking for the next trendy Sunday
entertainment option. Rather, those who have left churches on their last legs
are typically sincere believers in Christ, mournfully departing a place of
spiritual death to find a new spiritual home of life, growth, and community.
I’ll talk more in later chapters about why megachurches are growing
while so many others are declining and dying. However, the basic reasons are
simple, timeless, and—quite thoroughly—biblical.
If everyone who left
a dead or dying church found their way to a megachurch, I might be tempted to
shrug it off and be happy that at least they have a church home. Just chalk it
up to cultural shifts—the church has always had those. But, for various
reasons, many of those who abandon the sinking Titanic—the dying church—never again
find the safe harbor of any church. I find that troubling. I hope you
do, too. The smaller church has always felt more like home to me.
Blame the neighborhood and American culture.
It’s also easy to
blame the culture and the neighborhood—as many leaders in dead and dying
churches do. Indeed, the elderly pastor who told me, “Nobody wants to come to church
anymore,” reflects that sentiment. “We haven’t changed,” members and leaders of
the dying church reason, “but the neighborhood sure doesn’t respond like it
used to. It’s their fault.” Blame the neighborhood.
No one would be wrong
to say that the percentage of Americans identifying as Christians has dwindled
precipitously in the last few decades. Research by secular organizations such
as Gallup Polls, Pew Research, and the U.S. Census Bureau, not to mention
Christian researchers like Barna and LifeWay, bear that out.
And this cultural
phenomenon was already accelerating before COVID-19 hit. While the global
pandemic likely ended the suffering for many churches already on life support,
the virus certainly brought many others, once in earlier stages of decline, to
the brink. Those churches, which could ignore initial signs of trouble before
the pandemic, may be paying the bills now—but without much margin left. You see, many members didn’t come back
from the quarantine. Even fewer children are there. Due to the pandemic, some of
the most vulnerable members worship in Heaven now. At the same time, some claim
they still watch online, but their attachment to the church is marginal, at best. Those
that haven’t come back yet aren’t going to.
The news isn’t all
bad. Church growth gurus like Thom Rainer see the trends largely reflective of
the death of “cultural Christianity.” People who might once have claimed to be
Christian—people who might have even regularly attended church—because it was
the culturally acceptable thing to do in America no longer feel the pressure or
obligation to appear like good, church-going folks. If people want to be
entertained on a Sunday morning, they no longer need church to fill that need. Fishing,
Sunday sports leagues, or even a quiet morning at home will suffice—with no
cultural backlash, no one at the office Monday morning asking how they enjoyed the
services at their church. Cultural were never really Christians, but they saw
the benefit to their careers, families, or standing in the community. Today, the
church no longer meets that need—in some communities, it’s quite the opposite.
So, cultural Christians are gone, and in many legacy congregations, their
absence is palpable.
The American church
is, just now, beginning to feel a little of what has been the global experience
of the universal church for the past two thousand years. The United States is
much more a mission field than in years past, and churches need to do more
today than hang a shingle off the building expecting people to show up; they
need to be a place of true spiritual connection. Cultural Christianity is gone,
and that’s not all bad. The church today has a real opportunity to
authentically be the church. The church in America has the chance to be
the hands and feet of Jesus rather than remain comfortable simply knowing that
people will show up. For church health—not to mention the advance of the Gospel—that’s
a good thing.
Getting to the heart of the problem
The church has
always grown for the same reason, beginning on the day of Pentecost in the Book
of Acts, chapter 2, and continuing until today. Growing churches focus
outwardly. They take seriously—and personally obey—Christ’s Great Commission to
go and reach locally, nationally, and internationally (Jerusalem, Judea,
Samaria, and the ends of the earth, to borrow Jesus’ words in Acts 1:8 more
directly), bringing the Good News of the Gospel to those who need it.
For two thousand
years, the growing church has believed that it was incumbent on it to follow
the Great Commandment to love their neighbor as themselves and to be the hands
and feet of Jesus, bringing hope and comfort to a lost and dying world. Growing
churches invariably reflect a Gospel love for their communities in their
preaching and teaching and provide opportunities to share the love of Jesus
with their neighbors, in community with fellow believers.
I have visited
enough megachurches to know that they are outwardly focused and generally committed
to bringing the Gospel to the world, starting at the front doors of their
buildings. Admittedly, the percentage of megachurch attendees who engage in
their churches’ evangelistic outreaches is probably still far lower than their
pastors would like. However, the leadership energy and intentionality in
emphasizing Gospel outreach are far more in the megachurch (indeed, even in a
church of 200 or more) than the negligible concern registered within the four
walls of declining churches.
The megachurch up
the street from your struggling church is probably decades younger than yours. Do
you think they got that size without some intentionality in reaching the
neighborhood? Assuredly, that did not happen. If you doubt me, spend a few
Sunday mornings at that megachurch and tell me you didn’t hear the pastor
mention the church’s desire to reach the community. I double-dog dare you.
No, megachurches
aren’t perfect—no church that’s got people in it is. And for the record, I’ve
never been a megachurch member. It’s possible to find fault with any outreach
strategy—even some megachurches’ well-coordinated and well-intentioned efforts.
But to paraphrase Dwight L. Moody, I like their way of doing evangelism better
than your way of not doing it.
Where did all the evangelism go?
Conversely, I have
visited enough small, struggling churches to know the opposite is true of them.
Prayer times consist of intercession for (sometimes not very) sick, (purportedly)
saved people. Perhaps the church may lift up the needs of a missionary in their
prayers, but seldom, if ever, have I heard concern for the spiritual condition
or the eternal destiny of those in the neighborhood brought in front of the
Almighty. That’s a fundamental difference in mindset between the growing church
and the dying church.
If dying churches
even think of evangelism, it is in the context of having delegated it to the
“professionals”—the pastor and full-time missionaries. Such churches may even
proudly showcase the missionaries they support. But it is the rare member of
these congregations who goes the slightest bit out of their way to even invite
a neighbor to church. Evangelism is dead in most American congregations. And
evangelism is certainly dead in all declining churches (and now
that I think of it, that’s most American churches). If you doubt me,
there are plenty of statistics to validate this bold claim. I’ll bring you some
in chapter one.
When churches
abandon their concern for reaching their communities, they naturally stop
looking like the community. As racial, ethnic, and economic demographics shift
within the neighborhood, the congregation stops looking like the community. Even
in racially heterogeneous areas, declining churches look far different from their
communities in one major demographic—age. As the congregation ages, no younger
people—except for children and grandchildren of members—become part of the
congregation. Of course, even the children and grandchildren move to other
communities, which is a natural part of life. As the inwardly-focused church
fails to even biologically reproduce, the congregation ages at an accelerated
rate. When I began to pastor a struggling church in Florida, the congregation’s
median age was 71—compared to 37 for the surrounding community. From what I
have seen and heard, my experience was far from unusual in America.
We all gotta go home sometime.
The wisdom and
encouragement of senior saints have been invaluable to my life and ministry. Multi-generational
ministry should be the norm in the local church. We should never desire to see
older adults eliminated from participating in congregational life. Indeed,
churches that minister to the young to the exclusion of older adults are
missing out on a rich source of mature disciple-makers. But sadly, elderly
saints have the actuarial tables working against them. I haven’t known many
people who lived into their nineties, let alone over a hundred years, like dear
Buella in Tampa.
The church’s loss is
Heaven’s gain. But it’s certainly the church’s loss—right up to a point where,
without an influx of younger generations, it eventually has neither the members
nor the giving to sustain itself. The truth is, it is relatively easy to predict—to
within a few years—when a declining church will close its doors. And the closer
a church is to death, the easier it is to predict that date more accurately. It
doesn’t require prophetic gifts, just simple math—with simple attendance graphs
and charts of tithing contributions over time—to make such prognostications.
In Autopsy of a
Deceased Church, Rainer demonstrated that churches that closed their doors
refused to look like the neighborhood, neglected the Great Commission, and
became increasingly inward-focused overall. Membership in a dying church is
much more akin to country club membership than being part of Christ’s body.
What this book is all about
An additional
consideration goes hand in hand with these disturbing trends in a dying church.
As Mark Clifton says in Reclaiming Glory—his work on revitalizing dying
churches—part of a church’s refusal to look like the neighborhood, part of its
inward focus, is its refusal to develop, empower, and pass the torch to
emerging generations of leaders. As Clifton says, “Leaders will lead. If you
don’t provide young leaders the opportunity to lead in your church, they will
eventually go somewhere else where they can lead.”
If a church is to
undergo successful revitalization, it must recruit, develop, and empower
next-generation leaders to act. According to Clifton, such leadership
development activities will rest heavily upon the pastor leading a church’s
journey of revitalization. My doctoral dissertation work validated Clifton’s
assertions, as did my experience leading in a church revitalization setting.
This book is not
about the ins and outs of church revitalization—I’ll refer to great books on that
topic. Guys like Mark Clifton, Thom Rainer, and Sam Rainer, to name a few, have
written extensively on church revitalization. These men definitely informed my
thinking—and their direct input, in the case of the Rainers, influenced the
course of my dissertation.
Leaders wanted—and you'll need to grow them.
Rather, I will concentrate on raising up next-generation leaders—broadly speaking, leaders
under forty—to assist the pastor in the crucial work of church revitalization.
This book builds upon my experience and the insights I gained interviewing
eleven pastors who had attained at least modest success on the long road to
church revitalization. These pastors shared with me the good, bad, and ugly of
leadership development in a church revitalization setting. I hope their
experiences will help pastors develop and empower disciple-leaders who will, in
turn, assist them in leading declining congregations to renewed spiritual
vitality, evangelistic growth, and disciple-making capacity.
My goal is not to exclude
middle-aged and senior adults from leadership, or worse, to run them off—far from it. These seasoned
leaders are part of the solution. From my interviews with revitalizing pastors,
it seems clear that, often, no leaders are present when the revitalizer
arrives on the scene at the dying church. Yet church revitalization is a task that
is far too immense for one leader, the pastor, to accomplish alone. Everything—from
deferred facility maintenance to neglected outreach, to much-needed pastoral
care, to preparing quality sermons, to the revitalizing pastor’s family and often-held
second job—needs the pastor’s attention.
A revitalizing
pastor must reproduce leaders as quickly as possible—without handing leadership
to those who are not ready. Recruiting mature believers from inside and outside
the church and empowering them to act—and to help develop the next generation—is
a critical part of a robust church revitalization strategy.
Biblical Truth—and spiritual warfare
As God’s Word, the
Bible is the normative voice for the church’s faith and practice. Scripture has
much to say about church revitalization and leadership development in ministry.
Our leadership development and efforts to revitalize the local church, the
bride of Christ, must be bathed in Scripture. I will attempt, within the pages
of this book, to consistently frame the discussion in biblical terms.
All truth is God’s
truth. I think it’s demonstrably true that any good leadership is biblical
leadership—and all good leadership development is biblical leadership
development. Thus, in these pages, I will borrow from secular leadership
theories where they can serve as useful, practical, actionable, and
biblically-informed models to help pastors involved in the immense—indeed
overwhelming, without the aid of the indwelling Holy Spirit—task of church
revitalization.
The task of church
revitalization is, at its heart, a massive undertaking in spiritual warfare.
You already know this truth if you have been part of a church revitalization.
Perhaps you haven’t been part of trying to get a congregation long withdrawn
from the battlefield to reengage. After joining such an effort, you will quickly
become intimately familiar with spiritual warfare. Indeed, even if you have
been a spiritual warrior, this undertaking may be one of the most intense
battles you have ever joined. Not long after taking on the pastorate of a
church in desperate need of revitalization, I experienced the Adversary’s
attack more intensely than ever before.
An old salt’s take on church renewal
Before I entered the ministry, I had been a career naval officer—a “surface warfare officer,” a “ship driver.” Long before I was a pastor, I was a student of physical warfare. I had served in “joint” roles, where all of the branches
of the U.S. armed forces—and those of America’s allies—operated together. So, I
gained a pretty good understanding of military operations in the air, on land,
at sea, and even in space. In studying spiritual warfare, I found uncanny
parallels between military operations and our battle with the Devil.
In the military, I
also learned much about leadership development best practices and empowering
young people to act in critical situations. Frankly, I found the armed forces
do a better job growing and unleashing leaders than most churches (and
remember, by definition, all good leadership development is biblical, no matter
who undertakes it).
I am convinced that
my military experience equipped me to be a better spiritual warrior, leader
developer, and church-revitalizing pastor. Seven of the eleven pastors I
interviewed in my dissertation research had military experience (one Soldier,
one Airman, two Marines, and three Sailors) and felt the same way. I do not
believe in any way that military experience is somehow necessary to succeed as
a church revitalization pastor. Indeed, one of the pastors I interviewed had
been a teacher, while another had been a postman. Both found these experiences
of benefit in church revitalization ministry.
However, where I
found my military experience to benefit developing leaders for church
revitalization—and where those I interviewed found their time in the armed
forces positively informed their mentoring and disciple-making practices—I hope
to translate that into something every pastor can use, regardless of
background.
Recognizing my limits
My formal research
had its limits. I only talked to evangelicals, and even then, because of my
orbit when I conducted my research, ten of the eleven were interviewees
Baptists (of several denominations or associations). Although many of my
interviewees led multiethnic churches, these pastors were all white, and they
were all men. Had time and resources permitted, I would have preferred
interviewing pastors from many denominational backgrounds (indeed, I tried to
find these pastors, but without much luck). I wish that I had been able to
interview pastors belonging to multiple ethnic groups.
Only one of my
interviewees pastored a church with an egalitarian view of church leadership,
which allows women to serve as pastors—but, again, the interviewee was a man.
It would have been interesting to see how women pastors’ approaches to church revitalization
and leadership development may have differed from those of their male
counterparts.
But, despite my limits…
Still, in the months
since I defended my dissertation, I have had the good fortune of having myriad
conversations with pastors and leaders. These leaders come from multiple
denominational and non-denominational backgrounds, albeit they are still mainly—but
not always—evangelicals. These conversations have led me to believe that what I
learned in my dissertation work has wide applicability across church
denominations.
Indeed, the stories
are always similar—North, South, Midwest—white, black, Hispanic, or
multiethnic—Baptist, Wesleyan, Methodist, Presbyterian, Reformed, Pentecostal, Evangelical
Lutheran, Congregationalist, Evangelical Covenant, Bible Church, or
non-denominational—Calvinist, Arminian, Provisionist, or somewhere in the
middle—dispensational or covenantal—charismatic or cessationist—complementarian
or egalitarian—rural, urban, or suburban. Without these particulars, the
stories all sound the same.
Across the board, no
matter the theological flavor or the local context, churches in America are
struggling. They are aging and unsure how to cast a Gospel net in a culture
that is changing at a dizzying and accelerating pace. They are stunned that,
for the first time in their lives, people don’t just reject the Gospel message
but accuse Christians of bigotry and hatred.
They are wondering
with Buella, “Where did everybody go?!”
God will help you, and I hope this book will, too.
I freely admit that
I don’t know everything. However, I know the One who does. I trust He will
empower you as you mentor, equip, and unleash your church’s next-generation
leaders to see your church to renewed vitality, vibrant ministry, and bold
witness to the life-transforming, soul-saving Gospel of Jesus Christ. I know He
can bring your church back to life—and He’s the only one who can. I know that,
over the centuries, the church has seen decay and decline, followed by revival
and “Great Awakenings.”
I know that, for
better or worse, the church—including your struggling church—is the
bride of Christ. And he loves her.
What I do know, I
share now for His glory. I hope this work might assist and encourage other
pastors who have committed to traveling the hard road of church revitalization.
You are my heroes. I’m rooting for you. I’m praying for you. I believe you are
where you are for such a time as this.
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