Playing hide and seek with G*D

Why we don’t look in churches anymore.

Where do you go on Sundays if you are “spiritual but not religious”? Oft-cited Pew Research Center surveys report an increase in the percentage of respondents who answer “None” when asked to name their religious identity: from about 16% in 2007 to around 29% in 2018. Not surprisingly, their surveys also note a decline in church attendance and participation over the past few decades.

Why do people stop going to church? In the midst of the Center’s comprehensive data, I think the answer is simple. People stop going because the churches don’t let them encounter G*D.

Plenty of parking available at First Church!

Religious trends in America have resembled a roller-coaster over the centuries. The current decline in attendance has tracked the passage of the Baby Boom children through the mainline churches, like a sheep through a boa constrictor. It seems that as that cohort grew up, more and more of them began to say, like Peter in the 1999 Mike Judge film Office Space, “I’m just not gonna go…”

https://jo.abctube.org/video/jKYivs6ZLZk

Why go at all?

And yet some churches are thriving. So when we ask, “Why DON’T people go?” we should perhaps first ask, “Why DO they go?” One Pew study gives the telling, simple answer.

Overwhelmingly, when people are asked why they go to church, 81% of regular or occasional attenders say they go to be in the presence of G*D. That’s all.

They say further that they “ practice religion in other ways,” and name other likes and dislikes. To me, that’s overwhelming evidence that the fault is not with the people all becoming nihilists or whatever. It’s with the churches. It means that when people do go, they don’t feel the presence of G*D there. How can this be?

How we hide G*D in our churches

With the best of intentions, many congregations have littered their Sunday services with barriers, not invitations, to the experience of G*D’s presence. When I served churches professionally, I wrestled with all these mistakes myself, and I’ve seen them made elsewhere. To enlighten, rather than to shame, let’s look at some of the barriers you may encounter when searching for G*D in a church with too many trees and not enough forest.

Barrier 1: Clipboards

Yes. Clipboards. Many earnests and socially conscious churches fill the foyer with clipboards holding sign-up sheets, announcements, petitions, etc. But each clipboard represents a commitment, doesn’t it? And as a first-time visitor, I might be interested in them later on — but could you give me a hot minute before you put the arm on me to go to work? Can I at least see some friendly faces first? Enjoy a piece of art? Find the bathroom? Or get a drink of water? For some seekers, those calls-to-action and invitations to commitment may seem instead like clutter, pressure, and confusion.

Barrier 2: Bad breath.

I’m not even kidding here. Once I visited a pretty little church, where I was enthusiastically greeted by a friendly, well-dressed woman. She gushed over my presence, saying, “We need more young people here!” She seemed kind, but she seemed most interested in what I, the Young Person, could do for them. Also, she was talking too close to my face, and she had bad breath. Why didn’t someone tell her?

See, she had no support for her role. In that church, greeters and ushers just signed up to greet and usher whenever they could (see “Clipboards,” above). They were doing one of the church’s most important ministries with no vetting, no spiritual discernment, no training. Greeters need more than a desire to stand at the door and chat. They need to know about welcoming the stranger, honoring sacred space and personal space, and recognizing special needs. Seeker-friendly churches will select, teach, nurture, and hold accountable those who serve in these ways. And someone will give the greeter an Altoids if they need it.

Barrier 3: “Good morning!”

Let’s say you’ve made it past the clipboards and the greeters. Once in the sanctuary, you relax some and enjoy the musical prelude. The music is good, the congregation is gathering, and you feel you might be able to get out of your own head and seek G*D for a time.

But suddenly you hear a violent screech of electronic feedback, followed by a chirpy or a hearty, “Good MORNing!” To which everyone responds, with equal chirp and heartiness, “Good MORNing!” (Your dog might have died that day; never mind that. We say it is a Good Morning, and you’ve got to say it too.) Those who defend the “Good morning!” say it’s friendly, and some may see it that way. For others, it is a sign that the worship has not started quite yet, and you were foolish to get ahead of things. (Psych! We’ll let you know when we are really going to start.)

One of my most admired professors of liturgy and preaching affirmed that starting worship with “Good morning!” would kill more churches than any other single thing.

Then there may be five or ten minutes of announcements, introductions, paper shuffling, latecomers, noisy children, or a last-minute announcement from the floor, but you have to wait till Hubert brings them a mike. You’re trying to see G*D in these earnest people, but you also realize you are at their mercy. And — no G*D sighting yet, try as you might.

Barrier 4: Nobody’s actually ready.

Sometimes, the worship leaders are sincere but just unprepared. They shuffle paper, miss their cues, make lame little jokes when they mess up, and so on. To be sure, humans are fallible, and leading worship is harder than it looks. That’s why preparation is essential, even for bright, busy people. The math is unforgiving: if 250 people are in worship, and the worship leader wastes 5 minutes by lack of preparation, they have wasted 1250 minutes of the people’s time to seek G*D.

Barrier 5: Nobody knows that hymn.

If you want to start a rousing church fight, just mess with the music. It’s worse than deciding what color to paint the sanctuary. Even progressive churches may furiously defend and retain traditional worship music that is culturally narrow, unrhythmic, and hard to sing. Um, I don’t really know this song, and I can’t read music that fast. Guess I should have gotten here in 1945 like they all did.

Congregations who prize their musical heritage — let’s say, the magnificent organ — may be interested to know that younger generations experience organ music as depressing at best and even scary, thanks to horror movies. The church may get a guitar player in there to play a 1960s folk song for the offertory, but the next generations of seekers will be left out of that cultural moment, too. Only have an old piano? Get somebody in there who can play that thing to the heavens and back.

Seeker-friendly churches don’t throw out all their classics, but they add time for people to learn and sing simpler songs of devotion or praise. And it’s real time, too: blocks of music — baths of music — may last 15, 20 minutes or more. Hypnotic and evocative, the music allows the seeker a chance to move a few steps closer to that elusive presence of G*D.

Barrier 5: The congregation doesn’t know where to find G*D, either.

Frankly, it is a constant struggle for a church to remain faithful to its mission, its Higher Nature. So much can get in the way — money concerns, special interests, even ambition to be the best-looking church on the block. Listen to what Soren Kierkegaard wrote:

“I went into church and sat on the velvet pew. I watched as the sun came shining through the stained-glass windows. The minister, dressed in a velvet robe, opened the golden gilded Bible, marked it with a silk bookmark, and said, ‘If any man will be my disciple, said Jesus, let him deny himself, take up his cross, sell what he has, give it to the poor, and follow me.’ And I looked Around, and Nobody was Laughing.”

It’s easy for a congregation to start to prioritize its image and its real estate ahead of its purpose. Of course, churches may offer beauty, comfortable surroundings, and opportunities for all to serve both congregation and community. But remaining a vital house of worship depends on the simple advice: Always keep the main thing the main thing. For a congregation, that really ought to be the G*D of their understanding.

We join the worship that is already in progress

Planning a worship experience should be an exercise in subtraction. The worship leaders don’t have to conjure up some G*D-show to dazzle the rubes. Rather, they must tenderly but firmly remove whatever stands between the seeker and the experience of the holy. After cleaning the foyer, training and nurturing the greeters and worship leaders, updating the music, and ensuring their budget reflects their values, the community of faith will be ready to offer an experience of the holy that cannot be found anywhere else.

And then, they should be sure there is a box of tissue at the end of each pew. G*D affects people that way, sometimes.