Blessed by Small Churches
(repeat from 2005)
There was this bit of disconnect in my teen years. It seemed like every week there was something said at church warning us of the evils of “mixed bathing.” (You can immediately spot the problem of mixed bathing; apparently, the greater concern was mixed swimming.) It was a rule strictly enforced at the Bible camp I went to and the university I attended. No mixed bathing.
However, almost every Sunday in the summer, the moment church was over we headed for the lake. I loved singing the song with “throw out the lifeline,” because it helped me fantasize about getting in the water with a ski and having someone throw out the ski rope. (“Throw out the ski rope, throw out the ski rope, someone is drifting away.”)
And there was mixed swimming. As I recall, a couple times we took the church’s high school class with us. Then eventually, there were even dates to the lake! More mixed swimming.
But maybe these old lessons got downloaded into my head. Maybe they are why I really don’t care much for the beach and much prefer the mountains. Perhaps it isn’t the heat, the sunscreen, the skin cancer, the salt water, or the sand that really annoy me. It’s the mixed bathing. In the mountains of Colorado–which I much prefer-it’s usually cool and everyone is wearing lots of clothes.
Sometimes we’d go to Table Rock Lake on Saturday, spending the night. I have great memories of joining the Shell Knob Church of Christ on many Sunday mornings. Church didn’t exactly start at 9:45. It was more 9:45ish. The teen class was pretty much everyone twelve to twenty, and my brother and I would about double the attendance. It was just assumed if we showed up that my dad would be the song leader. And as I got older, I could count on leading a prayer. What I especially recall is what good, welcoming, salt-of-the-earth people they were.
I don’t know how many of you have worshiped often with a group of just thirty or so. But for me, this is such a positive memory.
One year at Harding, Diane and I drove every Sunday morning along with a buddy and his girlfriend (now his wife) to Alread, Arkansas. We’d drive from Searcy through Rose Bud and Bee Branch to Clinton and then snake our way up the gorgeous mountains of north central Arkansas just past Rupert. That was Alread. One of us would preach in the morning; the other would preach in the evening. Usually the one who wasn’t preaching would lead singing. In the afternoon the four of us would go to someone’s house for a great country lunch. Then we were free in the afternoon to rest, catch up on homework, or (for the one who hadn’t preaching in the morning) to furiously write a sermon for the evening.
A small church of under 75 was special to me in my childhood, too. In some ways it was like a really large house church. No one was begging for millions of dollars to build a huge building so that more Christians from other churches could switch to our (now) larger church building. We knew each other. We cared for each other. I’m sure if I went back, it wouldn’t be ideal, but it’s a strong anchor in my memory.
Back at the 1968 Lectureship at ACC, Bill Banowsky noted two points.
First, the prohibition against mixed swimming, among churches of Christ, increases the further you get away from water. That is, at the beaches, it’s not so strong, but in the middle of Texas or Kansas, it is very intense.
Second, the stronger the opposition the more likely it is called mixed bathing; those less opposed are inclined to describe it as mixed swimming. Personally, I think mixed bathing should be limited to children under 4 or married adults.
Reading about the preaching in Arkansas and spending Sunday afternoon in the house of a church member does bring back great memories. Thanks!
Grace and Peace,
Rex
Until I was about 11, I didn’t know there were churches with memberships over 30. My dad planted many a church up the southern California coast and inland from Lancaster/Bakersfield to Fresno. At that age we visited the York Blvd. CofC to hear and visit with J. Emmett Wainwright, who was a Paul to my dad’s Timothy.
My memory is of a “huge” (sic) beautiful building with pews, carpeting on the floor, classrooms and of all things, a kitchen and fellowship hall.
I have NO idea who preached or what we sang, but I do remember meeting Bro. Wainwright’s son and immediately fell under the spell of a pre-teen crush.
I was crushed under the weight of disillusion and a broken pre-teen heart when shortly thereafter he married. ~laugh chuckle~
My complete childhood was in newly established churches of 7-10 members. When it reached about 40, Dad helped them hire a preacher and we moved on. To tell the truth, I really, really enjoy BIG and serving congregations. lol
The church mentoring me in my ordination is a small church — but a vibrant community of faith. There is so much love there; it’s quite an interesting experience, having most recently been a member in Memphis of a church of 1100 and again in Arkansas a similar sized church. Now my congregation is around 30. Growing, too.
I love these people. They’re my family and I’m so grateful for their fostering love and their ability to put up with my preaching. I’m grateful for the preacher who is so generous with the pulpit that a girl like me, who grew up in the c’s of C and therefore didn’t get much preaching experience, ha a loving congregation that not only tolerates, but encourages her preaching.
I can’t imagine my life without this small church, despite my former “preference” for the larger, more progressive churches.
It was a small community…Reagor Springs…halfway between Ennis and Waxahachie. It was where my great grandparents first heard the gospel and were baptized in the early 1880s at a brush arbor meeting on Waxahachie Creek…my grandad was baptized there about 1908. My daddy preached at Reagor Springs in the 1950s, and I was baptized there, too. It was a congregation of about 65…nearly everyone was related…full of love and harmony…and from that congregation have come preachers, missionaries, elders, and deacons. I stay in contact with those wonderful Christians still…one precious man went to heaven last night (Thanksgiving)…and in the midst of my tears because of the pain, there is joy that I will see him again. I love big churches…I spent my pre-school years in a big church in Houston where I also saw lots of love…but their is a spot in my heart that is reserved for Reagor Springs…and we’ve already got our meeting place planned out in heaven!
Speaking of small churches, qb just got home from a Thanksgiving in Big D during which (today) he had a full order of Pappasito’s tableside guac. There is no topic to which that fact is not relevant.
qb
QB – More theological and political discussions would be fruitful if conducted over tableside guac at Pappasito’s. And yes, it’s relevant to all topics.
Having lived most of my life in Arkansas I totally relate to your story. And there is nothing like the ministry in a small church. God bless the big congregations, but there is such a closeness in the smaller ones. Oh and I grew up with the mixed bathing thing at church camp too. Funny that it was ok to go to the city pool with your church friends but when you got to camp it was going to corrupt your mind, lol.
Terry Reed
Small Church Tools
You guys ever try the guac made in the deli at the Market Street grocery stores? Wonderful stuff and just the right amount of spicy! It should be on the table at every small (and large) church fellowship dinner.
Geez, if it can be prepared LIVE and in FULL VIEW of the prospective consumer, and if it can be purchased FRESH out of the mashing bowl, then we have some possibilities. But if it must be purchased in a prepackaged state…heaven forfend! All manner of vileness (e. g., mayo, sour cream, “mixes,” extenders of all kinds) can be smuggled into this culinary royalty, and only first-hand observation can ensure that no sleight of hand has taken place.
qb
i’ve been told – by a person that was actually there – that people sit in church (church of Christ) and then head out to the topless beaches and no one thinks anything about it . . . and even a rather conservative preacher was seen on the beach after services. it’s all relative.
QB,
Geezer is quite familiar with, and respectful of Quebee’s appreciation of guacamole done right. This was precisely what prompted my previous comment. Of course there is no mayonnaise in it and of course you buy it fresh at the deli. However, I do not recall a time I watched them make it right before my eyes. They do put it in a plastic pint container and put a lid on it as people take the stuff home and to fellowship dinners at small churches. There is a label on the container that lists all the ingredients. Personally, I appreciate the little chunks of avocado and that it is not smashed completely into a puree.
In this one particular case QB might consider stopping in at a Market Street grocery the next time he is in Dallas and giving it a taste. Geezer would be amazed if QB did not extol the stuff and begin to take it to dinners at small congregations, sharing it with others as if it were the very gospel of guac.
Cheers,
Geezer
I have preached in churches where only one person showed up for worship on 17
occasions. I always enjoyed preaching in little churches with unusual names in the mountains of East Tennessee.
I now enjoy being pastor of a little congregation in Weeping Water, Nebraska. We had 10
people sharing in worship on my first Sunday. I’ve been there since 2005. New churches have been built around us and many from our little town drive 50 miles to some big church
or go to the one whose members used to go to our small churches.
The church encourages me to preach revivals and workshops in other places. Most
sincere pastors would preach in a chicken coop, brush arbor, bar, outdoor park, or
in a jail or nursing home if no one else wanted them.
When I tried to get in to earn my D.Min. at Vanderbilt, some of the professors thought I needed a lot of polish and sophistication. I feel like a person who got his M.D. and now serves a little village or ranch town which could have no doctor if he was not wlling to give his life there.
I once asked Joel’s big church in Houston, Texas that brings in millions of dollars and has
more than 20,000 people each Sunday to help our little church repair a leaking roof and re-wire our church that has had the same wiring since it was built 80 years ago. Think they’d give a dime for us. No way! Many other rich churches woulkd not respond to our vital needs for our little First Christian Church of Weeping Water.
One Sunday our group of 20 people gave a family in need $2,000, a stove, frig, and food.
We give everything to the Lord’s work. I accept no salary and most people there serve
Jesus for free.
Blessings, moments of joy, and happiness to the thousands of preachers who are willing to serve without money or worldly honors.