Church Revitalization: Contending with the frustration of one step forward, two steps back

I once watched a documentary about a Civil War battle. Though I do not remember which battle or most of the pertinent details, I do remember the commentators talking about one rather unorthodox maneuver. With enemy troops flanking them and their own numbers dwindling, one general ordered his men to advance to the rear. In essence, they turned around and moved backward to a more advantageous position. Now, to some, that may seem like a retreat, but this orderly movement actually allowed the unit to outmaneuver their enemy and ensure the victory.

Last week, our church announced that we were once again suspending in-person services due to a surge in COVID-19 cases in our community. We initially suspended in-person services starting March 22 and resumed on June 19. Since resuming, we have seen several resurgences in COVID-19 cases which were actually greater than the initial peak at the end of April, but each of these began declined fairly quickly. In September, we were so confident that our mitigation efforts were working that we began singing in the in-person service, albeit with masks on. We even began talking about when we could resume in-person Discover Groups (i.e., our version of Sunday School and small groups). All of that, however, came to a screeching halt last week.

The latest spike in COVID-19 quickly eclipsed all of the other surges we have seen since the start of this pandemic. In the course of about three weeks, the number of new cases went from at or near an all-time low to setting new records almost every day. As a result, we have seen dramatic increases in testing, hospitalizations, and even deaths.

Stepping back was the necessary and right thing to do. It will allow our congregation to actively participate in the effort to curb this latest surge. Further, schools and offices throughout our area are closing down as well.

Yet, I find myself frustrated. I love my church family, and being able to gather with them is a high point of my week. Ministry is difficult enough; it is dramatically worse when we don’t see people. Further, we have had some new people coming since we reopened; I pray they will not grow disconnected while in-person services are suspended.

Adding an entirely different dynamic to this situation, we started a Swahili service in September to minister to some of our African neighbors. This service has been seeing strong attendance, but most of its members are not technologically savvy and do not have access to YouTube and the other staples of online church that I take for granted. Therefore, we have had to adapt, which only adds to the stress and frustration.

Perhaps worst of all, though, is the fact that we have no idea how long this surge will last. While previous surges turned around almost as quickly as they began, this one seems only to be accelerating. Positivity rates have shot past 20%, and actual cases from this past week are on pace to be almost double what they were the week before, which was almost double what they were the week before, which was almost double what they were the week before. We have already been forced to cancel our annual Harvest Dinner, and now we must consider whether we will be able to host “Hanging of the Greens” to decorate the church for Christmas, Christmas Eve, and at least one missionary visit.

I told the church board last month that I feel as Noah must have felt at the end of Genesis 7. There, after sealing himself and his family in the ark, Noah was compelled to wait as “the water surged on the earth 150 days.” Certainly, there were still things that needed to be done. For example, the animals still needed to be fed, and the poop still needed to be scooped. But even as Noah and his family went through those motions, they were keenly aware that they were waiting for the waters to recede.

During their wait, they could see no land. There was no clue which direction to head, no idea when they might be able to resume some semblance of normalcy. We have done our best to adapt to this time and position ourselves for strong ministry going forward, but the truth remains that no one knows if we got it right.

Neither could they see what dangers lurked beneath the waves. Were there rocks that would smash a hole in the ark, or great beasts that would suck them all into oblivion? Doubtless, Noah and his family imagined these dangers, but were they real? No one knew then, and no one knows now.

I do not like operating in the blind. Yet, I take encouragement in the simple hope of 2 Corinthians 5. there, the apostle Paul remarked, “For we know that if our earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal dwelling in the heavens, not made with hands.” Notice the “if” in that statement. Paul did not know what was going to happen. He had more questions than answers. In response, he said in vs 3, and again in vs 4, “We groan while we are in this tent” because we desire to be in our eternal, heavenly, certain dwelling, but we remain in this tent, burdened and at risk of being unclothed and swallowed up. Even so, in vs 6, he pronounced, “We are always confident and know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. For we walk by faith, not by sight.”

In church revitalization, like so much of life, we are compelled to navigate the unknown. There are so many things that we do not know, so many “ifs” in our statement. As the song says, we don’t know about tomorrow, and that can be both disconcerting and frustrating at the very least. Often, it will result in us taking one step forward, followed quickly by two (or twelve) steps back. However, we can – indeed, must – be confident as long as we keep our eyes fixed on the one who holds our eternal, unshakable future and has everything else well in hand as well.

Walk by faith, my friends. Not by sight.