Revenue and New Blood

My wife and I decided to skip church this morning.  It’s a beautiful day, sunny and mild, a rarity in our locale this time of year.  (We are grateful for global climate change, at least in December.)  We will probably spend the afternoon hiking in the woods or puttering in the yard.  

We skipped church to avoid the bi-annual “Youth Led Worship” service.  Though heartfelt, the event is often tiresome.  It resembles an elementary school play, a show for the grandparents among us, which is most of us.  But it’s the same five kids—all we have left in the congregation.  When each one graduates high school we expect they will blow away on gossamer strands of ever diminishing connection, just as baby spiders do.  Like vampires and revenants, our remaining church membership seeks the blood of young people to stay revived and energetic.  (Another interest of mine is horror literature.)

For all its efforts—save scheduling the Sunday service to a more family-friendly time—our church has not been able to attract young families for several years.  The nursery is down to one infant who comes every other week when he can fit it into his schedule.  

To generate revenue and interest, we are taking some of the same steps as some other shrinking denominations. Like the “mega-churches” we are reconfiguring ourselves as a civic center, a community hub with space to rent, ample parking—because the lot is mostly empty now—free coffee, wi-fi, and exercise equipment, among other amenities.  Our church hosts a secular daycare center, various 12-step groups, and private music lessons.  We have opened our sanctuary temporarily to a liberal Jewish congregation that meets here twice a month.

We’ve sent several of our agents to a nearby mega-church for reconnaissance.  They report that our largest, fastest growing competitor offers an indoor turf field, auditorium, “foam pit”, rental space and swag:  T-shirts bearing the denomination logo starting at $15.00 and fleece shirts at $35.00.  Agents “Caleb” and “Joshua” described loud music, crowds of people of all ages, (including some of our previous members), a plethora of small fellowship groups, and a vibrant education program from kindergarten to community college.  A co-worker of mine told me that there is a lot to do there for single professionals, too.

Several in our church have received fliers from this operation.  These advertise everything their building offers in the way of amenities and rental space—but without a single mention of church, gospel, scripture, worship, or needless to say, Jesus Christ.  To be fair, enumerating such quaint notions to younger prospective church members could be a deal breaker these days.

This approach—turning “church” into “community center”—makes practical sense as a way to fill an increasingly empty building with revenue generating activities.  Perhaps it will also attract curious seekers of religious truth.  One can appreciate the creativity involved.  It’s vital to welcome diverse groups of people.  But some of the glitz seems symptomatic of a church that lacks focus and coherency, a church entering a period of decadence and decline.   Especially if the emphasis is on a desire merely to accommodate potential customers.  No church building can contain God, but we hope that his Word to us is still mentioned occasionally within its walls.