Rediscovering the Neighborhood Church, part 2
01/21/2006 10:36 Filed in: Faith & Reason
In part 1 of "Rediscovering the Neighborhood Church," I transcribed a quote from Lilian Calles Barger about the importance of the locality of one's church. Ironically, Kathy and I were listening to that particular Mars Hill Audio Journal while driving thirty miles from our home in Simpsonville to a small group meeting in Louisville, Kentucky. I was struck by the fact that we were leaving one community, town, and county behind to go "create" community in another city and county. Something seemed to be wrong with that.
But our struggle wasn't new. This was merely a new revelation about something that had been bothering us for a while. There were a number of factors involved.
I had become very disturbed over the previous year or more that my involvement at church, my church life, seemed much less central than it used to be. Church had always been a primary force in my life. Mom says Dad insisted that I go to church beginning when I was only two weeks old! Even during semi-rebellious teenage years, the church provided a solid ground in the midst of my self-induced chaos. As an adult I had a seminary degree and had been on a number of church staffs--so why was church less a part of my life than it had been in the past?
Well, it didn't happen overnight. Kathy had taken a position at the elementary school in Simpsonville, Kentucky, in 2003 and we eventually decided the best thing to do was to move to Shelby County, and I would be the one to commute back into Jefferson County for my work. Most of the earlier part of my life had been spent living outside the limits of Ruston, Louisiana, a town of roughly 20,000 people. Kathy and I moved to Louisville, Kentucky in 1991 and for well more than a decade lived in a very urban setting, at one point living only about half a mile from downtown itself. My mother-in-law had jokingly started calling me "City Boy" because I took to the urban setting and lifestyle so quickly and so well. Moving to Shelby County was almost like going back to my childhood. In such a rural setting, things moved much slower here. For the first few weeks, as I drove out of Louisville and headed to Simpsonville, I felt like I was leaving for vacation every evening.
Kathy and I had been part of the same church for practically a decade. I had been on staff there two different times. When we moved, we never thought twice about the distance we were putting between ourselves and our church. In practical terms, it did not seem all that much further than when we were driving across Louisville to go to church. People commute everywhere in urban areas--work, school, and even church. What's the big deal with a commute?
Well, it did turn out to be a big deal. If we hit traffic at the wrong time of day, we could spend up to an hour round trip just commuting. This wasn't an issue so much on Sunday; but often, with our cramped schedules, it made getting to midweek activities difficult. And there were psychological barriers, too. Maybe the actual miles weren't much further than driving across Louisville, but there was something about leaving one town, leaving one county and driving to another that sure made it feel much further.
The most important factor, though, was what was happening to us on a communal level after we moved. We were meeting our neighbors, and we were starting to interact more with the local town. We weren't just camping out for a while while Kathy had this particular teaching "gig." Rather, we were settling in to the community. Strange faces became familiar, and then we found they had names. I began to ask myself whether someone who lived down the street would be willing to visit my church in another city, in another county if I were to invite him? And I really began to struggle with that. I counted one day and realized that we passed seven churches on the way to our church--and that was before we even got on the interstate.
I had one of those light bulb moments. I realized that in our increasingly mobile culture--especially in urban areas--we as Christians have gone about choosing a church body in a very wrong way. And in doing so we've separated the community in which we live from the community we find in our churches. Historically, such a schism is a new phenomenon. Traditionally the two communities have always been synonymous. I believe this unnatural division is a very dangerous thing. Not only has it weakened the church, but I believe it has led to a growing feeling of disconnectedness I'm hearing about from so many Christians, even while they are in the midst of very sound and otherwise healthy churches.
In part three, I'll discuss this problem in greater detail and conclude this series by offering some practical solutions.
But our struggle wasn't new. This was merely a new revelation about something that had been bothering us for a while. There were a number of factors involved.
I had become very disturbed over the previous year or more that my involvement at church, my church life, seemed much less central than it used to be. Church had always been a primary force in my life. Mom says Dad insisted that I go to church beginning when I was only two weeks old! Even during semi-rebellious teenage years, the church provided a solid ground in the midst of my self-induced chaos. As an adult I had a seminary degree and had been on a number of church staffs--so why was church less a part of my life than it had been in the past?
Well, it didn't happen overnight. Kathy had taken a position at the elementary school in Simpsonville, Kentucky, in 2003 and we eventually decided the best thing to do was to move to Shelby County, and I would be the one to commute back into Jefferson County for my work. Most of the earlier part of my life had been spent living outside the limits of Ruston, Louisiana, a town of roughly 20,000 people. Kathy and I moved to Louisville, Kentucky in 1991 and for well more than a decade lived in a very urban setting, at one point living only about half a mile from downtown itself. My mother-in-law had jokingly started calling me "City Boy" because I took to the urban setting and lifestyle so quickly and so well. Moving to Shelby County was almost like going back to my childhood. In such a rural setting, things moved much slower here. For the first few weeks, as I drove out of Louisville and headed to Simpsonville, I felt like I was leaving for vacation every evening.
Kathy and I had been part of the same church for practically a decade. I had been on staff there two different times. When we moved, we never thought twice about the distance we were putting between ourselves and our church. In practical terms, it did not seem all that much further than when we were driving across Louisville to go to church. People commute everywhere in urban areas--work, school, and even church. What's the big deal with a commute?
Well, it did turn out to be a big deal. If we hit traffic at the wrong time of day, we could spend up to an hour round trip just commuting. This wasn't an issue so much on Sunday; but often, with our cramped schedules, it made getting to midweek activities difficult. And there were psychological barriers, too. Maybe the actual miles weren't much further than driving across Louisville, but there was something about leaving one town, leaving one county and driving to another that sure made it feel much further.
The most important factor, though, was what was happening to us on a communal level after we moved. We were meeting our neighbors, and we were starting to interact more with the local town. We weren't just camping out for a while while Kathy had this particular teaching "gig." Rather, we were settling in to the community. Strange faces became familiar, and then we found they had names. I began to ask myself whether someone who lived down the street would be willing to visit my church in another city, in another county if I were to invite him? And I really began to struggle with that. I counted one day and realized that we passed seven churches on the way to our church--and that was before we even got on the interstate.
I had one of those light bulb moments. I realized that in our increasingly mobile culture--especially in urban areas--we as Christians have gone about choosing a church body in a very wrong way. And in doing so we've separated the community in which we live from the community we find in our churches. Historically, such a schism is a new phenomenon. Traditionally the two communities have always been synonymous. I believe this unnatural division is a very dangerous thing. Not only has it weakened the church, but I believe it has led to a growing feeling of disconnectedness I'm hearing about from so many Christians, even while they are in the midst of very sound and otherwise healthy churches.
In part three, I'll discuss this problem in greater detail and conclude this series by offering some practical solutions.