Georgia (Episcopal Diocese of) on my Mind

For the past two days I've worked, along with two colleagues from the Diocese of Milwaukee, in the Episcopal Diocese of Georgia, as that diocese begins its own Church Development Institute ("CDI" for short). The group we've been working with are clergy and laypeople who primarily go about their ministries in smaller towns and in small congregations. They go about their work far from the limelight of the "traditional" haunts of the Episcopal Church -- large metro areas, university towns, or centers of national influence.

My newfound friends worry about things like establishing a denominational identity in a part of the country commonly called "The Bible Belt". In their world, friends and neighbors look upon the Episcopal Church as some sort of exotic species of religion. Indeed Episcopalians, with their formal liturgy, reserved manner and good-natured worldliness are often seen as foreigners in this land of altar calls, impassioned pleas for people to "accept Jesus" (or face the fiery consequences of perdition) and where sweet tea is the strongest beverage a "good Christian" would ever dare to drink (at least in public).

As one clergy person told me, "In all of these small towns, our congregations are dwarfed by some other church -- Baptist, Methodist or Presbyterian." Many of these Episcopal congregations struggle to balance the budget. Many of the clergy work long hours for remuneration their sister and brother clergy elsewhere would probably find "substandard".

But as I've gotten to know these thirty or so people in two weekends' worth of work, I'm encouraged by their joy, their obvious love for each other and their willingness to engage the work of the Gospel with a hopefulness and humility that is nothing less than awe-inspiring. I've watched them pray with each other. I've listened to them argue with each other. I've heard them share their deep concerns and their irascible commitment to the Lord with each other. I've seen them draw strength and encouragement from each other. I am inspired by their dedication, their willingness to try new things and the ease with which they break into smiles...and from time to time shed a tear or two.

In our work in congregational development, my colleagues and I often say that numbers (as in average Sunday attendance or number of pledging units or annual operating budget) can't possibly tell the whole story of the health of a congregation...or even a diocese. The Church, as the Body of Christ, has always been a day-to-day proposition, in spite of our fixation upon the notion that, "Once upon a time, in the Good Old Days, the Church was overflowing with people, flush with cash and everything was beyond wonderful."

As long as we continue to confuse bigger with better, we will find very little to be hopeful about in the current realities impacting churches of all denominational stripes. For my part, I'm going to give thanks for my new friends and fellow members of the Body of Christ who are plucky witnesses to the Risen Lord in places like Bainbridge and Waverly, in Darien and Valdosta, in Albany and Dublin. I don't know how much I've "taught" them in our brief acquaintance, but I know what I've been learning from them -- unabashed hopefulness.

"There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope when you were called; one Lord, one faith, one baptism." (Ephesians 4:4-5)

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