Dimensions in brotherhood . . . No. 5

FELLOWSHIP AND THE SMALL CONGREGATION

While browsing among the new books in a Dallas store recently I came upon Warren Leslie’s Dallas: City Limit. Since it was published this side of the assassination, I was interested mostly in what it might say about that rather unspeakable subject. But I became more involved with the chapter about Dallas churches, and especially one quotation from Luther Holcombe, president of the Dallas Council of Churches.

“It is the small churches that give me hope. To me it is encouraging to look at these tiny churches all through the city. There’s real sincerity of religious conviction in Dallas. This touches me and gives me hope.”

It is interesting that President Holcombe would think of “real sincerity of religious conviction” in reference to tiny congregations. He did not mean to suggest, of course, that people cannot be sincere in a big church; but he was making an observation that is apparent to us all, if we stop to think about it, that those in small churches are usually more active and are called upon to give more of themselves to the work. It is reasonable, therefore, to conclude that “real sincerity” is more prevalent. The tiny church hardly ever attracts the man who goes to church because it is good for his business; nor does it appeal to those who are society-conscious. The prominent preachers are seldom with a small church; and the program, budget, and real estate are hardly suitable to pride and vanity.

However one might try to describe its virtue, it is the tiny church in Dallas that touches Mr. Holcombe and gives him hope. The same chapter of the book mentions that Holcombe is impressed when a small band of believers get together and clean the building, mow the lawn, and patch the roof. Perhaps it is this that gives him hope because this kind of ministry is so rare in what might better be called a metropolitan church rather than simply a big church.

Even in our own metropolitan churches there is someone hired to do nearly everything, even to the preparation of the Lord’s Supper and the filling of the baptistry. The professional minister and office staff keep things running smooth as a rule, and it must be admitted that such organizational efficiency appeals to most people. The average church member in the metropolitan church is hardly expected to do more than to be in his appointed place at the usual services of the congregation and to give of his means. He can get lost in the crowd. Unless the church is very alert by way of some “zone plan” whereby all members are checked, he might well be absent for weeks without being missed.

Perhaps Holcombe realizes that this is what most people want. They don’t want to be bothered. Today’s church member cherishes the fact that his old Dad used to build the fires at the meetinghouse back home, and he likes to recall how his Mother prepared the Lord’s Supper, or how the men would pitch in and share the preaching. But does he want to do such things? Does he not rather prefer to budget a few dollars a week for the church, fill his place in the pew each Sunday, listen to a professional clergy, and otherwise enjoy the comforts of a rather lavish edifice?

To be sure, some Christians in big churches are as active as anyone else, and certainly as sincere, and Holcombe knows this. But Holcombe seems to be suggesting that Christianity is likely to have a better chance with a man in the tiny congregation. Fellowship itself may be deeper and more meaningful.

Our own Wynnewood Chapel in Dallas illustrates the point quite well, I would think. It is at least tiny. A man like Holcombe would be impressed, as our visitors usually are, that nearly all our members take part in every service. Some sister, not a janitor, will put the Lord’s Supper at its proper place, covered by linen she herself has laundered, and consisting of bread that she herself has made. During “the prayers of the church” as many as five or six different short prayers will be said by different brethren. Before the prayers are said the congregation is asked by the presiding brother to make special requests for prayer. Usually someone who is ill is mentioned by name, or the missionaries in Mexico and Denmark that the group is helping are mentioned, or some special problem is referred to. The prayers include these special, personal requests, making prayer more specific and personal than is usually the case in the metropolitan church when some brother leads the prayer for all over a public address system.

Worship in song is led by at least four or five song leaders, each taking his turn, some being better at it than others, but all gradually improving, and all leading at least one song at every service. The teaching ministry is shared by all the male members. We have not one brother at Wynnewood who does not at least occasionally appear before the congregation with a lesson, and sometimes two or three will appear during the same service. The brethren themselves built the chapel with their own hands, or ‘I should say they are still building it, doing a little more when money and time allows.

We are not saying that a congregation has to do it the way we do, but we do say that something is lost when brethren have a hired functionary to do all these things for them. It may be the easiest way, but not the most meaningful. I have discovered long since that it is not too difficult to build a wall of brick and mortar, or even four such walls, and fill the area with party-oriented people. But to build a church, even a tiny one, where the intention of the members is to minister rather than to be ministered to is a different matter.

About the time I read the statement from President Holcombe I received a letter from a preaching brother of unusual ability, one who could certainly have chosen the way of the big churches, in which he said: “I shall continue with small and weak congregations insofar as my own life is concerned.” It is the rarity of this attitude that impressed me. Most preachers insist on going to the larger churches, with the very largest the ideal end. Why? We are told that it is because they can do more good there. Perhaps so. But it is strange that so few figure more good can be done with tiny congregations. Then too the tiny churches have a way of wanting to become larger and larger. Why? If there is growth, why not allow more and more tiny churches to emerge? Did we get the idea of the cosmopolitan church from the New Testament or did we borrow it from the religious culture of our time?

In New Testament times there was only one large congregation, and the Lord providentially dispersed it; and even before the Jerusalem congregation was scattered it may well have assembled in scores of different places, especially in synagogues. It was certainly no counterpart to the big church of our time. And how about the numerous references to “the church in thy house,” a characteristic of primitive Christianity that we do not care to emphasize. Ephesus, Philippi, Thessalonica, Antioch, and Corinth had small churches of Christ. So with the history-making churches all through the centuries. Big churches maintain themselves, perpetuate the party they represent, and support its institutions, but they are almost never epoch-making. They bring about no changes; by their very nature they yield to the status quo.

This is also the case with our own Restoration Movement. It wasn’t a big church in Pittsburgh but a small band of saints in nearby Washington, Pa. that produced the Declaration and Address. It wasn’t a metropolitan church in Wheeling, but a tiny group at nearby Brush Run that called meetings that influenced the future of American churches. Reformations begin in the small churches that have less to lose in terms of party politics. They are more wieldy. Some churches get so large and so involved in the machinations of institutional religion that even its own officers are powerless to bring about changes. The tail wags the dog.

It is to be expected, therefore, that in the efforts we are making for the unity of the Restoration Movement it will be the small congregations and the less prominent ministers that will respond with more zeal. For the most part the cosmopolitan churches will ignore such efforts, or perhaps oppose them if they come within close range. The reason is clear enough: the big church has too much to lose. It does not really want a unity of our people, for this would change things too much. It wants no substantial change of any kind, for it was present conditions that gave it its existence, and it supposes that only those conditions will preserve it.

One of our ministers told me recently in a moment of candor that he supposed he did not really want the kind of unity I was working for, because it might effect both his budget and his attendance. He did not want his members visiting with other churches, for he might lose them. He worked on a close budget, which included his own means of livelihood, and he had to demand a loyalty to his particular congregation in order to be assured of the proper flow of cash. I appreciated his honesty, bur it confirmed the magnitude of our task in trying to reach a church with an idea that by its very nature is antagonistic to the survival of that church. This is to say that the typical church of our time, especially the more influential ones, is concerned primarily in its own existence and welfare, and in preserving its denominational loyalties. It has a program to support, which has precedence over any ecumenical concerns. Why should it pay any attention to some tiny church that pleads for a unity that would disturb the status quo. So the cosmopolitan, party church must, by its very nature, oppose that which looms as a threat to that which guarantees its position.

This problem is intensified by the fact that the trend is for larger and larger churches. The more brethren get themselves committed to budgets, mortgages, and programs the less inclined they are to listen to anything that might rock the boat even slightly. About the only hope that remains in such situations are the concerned ones that quietly and prayerfully work in small groups for a better understanding of what unity can mean to all Christians. Leaders of many denominations see hope in the emergence of the small cells in big churches for a revival of spiritual vitality. These study and prayer groups have no intention of causing dissension or division, but they allow the Spirit to work through them in such a way as to inspire concern in the hearts of others.

We are saying that the task of restoration of fellowship is basically a matter of destroying partyism, which has a stronger hold, as a rule, in the larger, more affluent congregation. But we do not overlook the fact that the Holy Spirit can be at work in any congregation, large or small, rich or poor. It is our hope that this journal will encourage more and more concern in more and more places, and that it will play some small part in inspiring brethren to place “the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace” above all party considerations. The barriers are real and formidable, but they that are with us are more than are with them. This calls for the faith that can count angels. — the Editor.