Ever since the mass media (my company included) began enabling fame for ministry leaders, adoring church people have scurried to emulate their heroes. The result has been a wave of copycat terms and behaviors–repeated not because they make sense, but because they’re used by the cool and the famous.

Here’s a sampling of ministry me-too-isms:

1. When you preach, sit on a stool.
2. But don’t preach. Give a message.
3. Call yourself a “communicator.”
4. Name yourself the “lead pastor.”
5. Don’t love people. Love ON people.
6. “Press in.” (Don’t know why.)
7. Call the worship location a “campus.” (Even if it’s in a jail or on the web.)
8. Refer to teenagers as “students.” (But don’t use the “student” word for elementary school students or college students. They’re not “students.”)
9. Dispatch men in little orange vests to direct traffic in the parking lot.

I guess it’s all scriptural. “Ye are . . . a peculiar people.” (1 Peter 2:9)

What would you add to the copycat list?

“Sunday morning isn’t the main event. The real ministry happens in our small groups.”

“Life change happens in circles, not in rows.”

More ministry leaders are arriving at an intellectual or spoken conclusion that effective ministry is relational. They may say that person-to-person interaction leads to far more spiritual growth than a speech from the pulpit. But do their actions really support this notion?

I’ve heard pastors from high-profile mega-churches tout the ultimate ministry payoff through their small groups. And I’ve heard youth pastors boast about the number of small groups they’ve started. But a closer examination of their weekly priorities may tell a different story.

Though many verbally acknowledge the value of their relational ministries, they devote very little of their time or attention to these ministries. Though they may say people ultimately gain more from conversations and interactions with others than from their sermons, they spend 30 hours in sermon prep–and 15 minutes in small group prep.

It’s often said you can accurately determine people’s real priorities by examining two things–their wallet and their schedule. So, what might a church’s financial and staff time commitments tell us about the church’s true priorities? How much time and resources are devoted to small group involvement and other relational ministries–vs. what is devoted to the Sunday morning service?

“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

While working on an upcoming documentary film on the state of the church in America, I ran across a church in Louisiana that pays more than lip service to its relational ministries. The pastor, Wayne Northup, regularly lays out the priorities for the congregation–using the metaphor of a meal.

Notice the emphasis here. He names the Sunday morning service the Appetizer, “a place where you can get your taste buds going.” The Main Course, however, is small group involvement.

And he’s very sincere about the weighting of this meal. Wayne devotes major chunks of his time and attention to the Main Course. All small group leaders go through 16 weeks of training–on group dynamics, leadership, care-giving, theology, and personal growth. They’re required to read five books and do multiple practical assignments.

The real work of ministry happens within these little mini-congregations. They care for one another, discuss the Bible, celebrate birthdays and anniversaries together, help one another with residential moves, engage in community service, handle personal crises, and make hospital calls. Group leaders and members are accountable for outreach, discipleship, group multiplication, and prayer support.

They are the church, the Body of Christ.

“Everybody knows we offer the best children’s ministry in the city.”

“Our vision is to be the best church in the area.”

Over the last ten years I’ve heard statements like these with increasing frequency. Is this a good thing? Does our desire to serve God with excellence naturally lead us to want to be the best in town? Is the “best” classification the most honorable way to measure our success and effectiveness?

Most people probably view the quest for best as a helpful ambition. Driving to be better and better, at any endeavor, raises the level of quality for all. Right? Competition makes everyone better. Right? In many ways, that’s true.

But what’s necessary to be “best”? In any competitive field, in order to have winners you must have losers. In order to be best, you must conquer the others.

And that’s where the quest for best begins to turn ugly, especially in the church.

In the church, this spirit of bestfulness and competitiveness leads to pridefulness. This has not gone unnoticed by the public. A non-churched mom I interviewed said, “Churches today just want to be bigger and better than the next one. That’s not what church is supposed to be about.”

Yet, the quest for best seems intoxicating. Church gurus advise congregations to find something they can be best at in the community. “What makes you stand out among the others?” they ask. The trouble is, we’re not called to stand out. We’re called to stand behind.

In Mark 9 we see the disciples arguing about who stood out as the best disciple. Jesus confronted their quest for best. He said, “Anyone who wants to be first must be the very last, and the servant of all.” In other words, we’re not called to stand out. We’re called to stand behind those we’re called to serve.

If a church is not called to be the best in town, what is it called to be? It’s called to serve. Humbly. It’s called to touch lives with God’s love, one by one. It’s called to be faithful where God has placed it.

No disciple is called to conquer the other disciples in a quest to be best.

Jesus illustrated and summed up his lesson on humble servanthood by picking up one small child and urging his disciples to do the same, to faithfully welcome the small.

It’s not the kind of pursuit that will jetison a church to anybody’s Best 100 list.

That was an actual comment from a pastor in response to one of my blog posts. My article encouraged pastors to enhance their preaching with effective communication techniques–such as those that Jesus used. These include listening to your people, and encouraging people’s questions and dialog.

This pastor’s comment reflects a general attitude that pervades some church staffs. The approach seems to be, “I’m the ministry professional. That means it’s my job to do the talking. And it’s your job to shut up.”

Most church leaders aren’t as blunt as the pastor quoted above. But the attitude often leaks out in more subtle ways.

I understand how this desire to silence the people becomes attractive. Much of what church leaders hear is negative or ill-informed. It can be exhausting to listen to that stuff.

And, the urge to exclusively dominate all communication is often tied closely to a minister’s sense of identity: “I’m the one who went to theological school. I feel called to teach and preach. My calling is not to sit and listen to people who are not called.”

And for others it’s a matter of time management.  ”I have a lot to say, a lot to share. I simply don’t have time to listen or engage in give-and-take.”

But I fear this effort to muzzle the people is hurting the cause. It implies that the professional Christians are the only ones who have answers, or have a real connection to God. That’s the same kind of misguided elitism that fueled the Reformation some 500 years ago.

And, shaping the church as a place for one-way communication leads to an anemic, passive enterprise. The paid professionals do the talking, share their faith, and perform the ministry. The attendees simply sit in a pew, stay quiet, and do nothing.

In addition, this approach tarnishes its practitioners into poor leaders. They become isolated, out of touch with real people, and disconnected from real life issues.

LISTEN

Rather than looking for ways to “shut the mouths of your listeners,” here are some simple ways to open a conversation that leads to faith growth and effective ministry.

• Provide opportunities for people to publicly tell about how God is working in their lives. Let them speak, or interview them, or show their stories on video.
• Grant time, in classes, studies and sermons, for people to talk and listen to one another.
• Solicit feedback. It’s how you grow. It’s how you know your people. Ask people how your message touched them. Use comment cards and occasional surveys. Welcome the use of performance reviews.
• Visit and listen to people on their own turf–in their homes, workplaces, schools, and hangouts.
• Listen to people outside of your peer group. Many pastors say they read and listen to only one group–other pastors. This leads to dangerous inbreeding. Seek out the voices of thought leaders in other fields.

Listen. This doesn’t mean you should be silenced. It simply means you’ll be more effective when you do speak.

Church leaders and members look out over the brimming Easter pews and wish that all these pop-up worshippers would return in the weeks to come. But it’s not likely.

Conventional wisdom would suggest that these holiday hordes, once they sample the finest a church has to offer, would return for more. And the additive effect of this special day would increase the year-round attendance, year after year.

But that’s not happening for most churches.

Why? The Easter story is the most extraordinary story of all time. Churches, large and small, do an extraordinary job telling and celebrating the Easter story, providing special music, showing the pageantry, and welcoming the worshippers with care.

So, why don’t the throngs come back? I suspect there’s no simple answer. It’s a variety of dynamics at work.

A SPECIAL EVENT. Many of the people who make one annual trip to church do so because it’s a special event. They fully understand that the special music, the special pageantry, and the special sermon are one-time special efforts. They realize things will be downgraded next week. So they wait till next year’s big event.

A HISTORY LESSON. Some people come, very simply, to be reminded of the Easter story. They find comfort in hearing the familiar story. It’s like watching “It’s a Wonderful Life” each year at Christmas. It’s a reminder of a great historical event. Once a year is fine for that.

A PERENNIAL GUEST. It’s wonderful to feel like the guest of honor. And many people know, on this special day, they won’t be gawked at as strangers, but welcomed as honored guests. They’re not interested in becoming a “regular.” They assume that repeat visits or membership would create the expectation that they should be there every week. And since they know that’s not possible in their busy schedules, they find it easier to be anonymous Easter Christians.

So, how might a church take these tendencies and turn them into something more magnetic?

It’s fine to produce a special event each year. But understand that everybody knows that event is special. It’s not the norm. It’s designed for the once-a-year crowd. To get individuals in the crowd to return, don’t treat them like a crowd. If it’s worth throwing an Easter morning extravaganza, it’s worth contacting each person who came. Write notes, or make calls, or send emails. Express your delight in seeing them at the special Easter service. Explain what happens every normal week and invite them to join in the regular rhythm.

It’s crucial to tell the amazing story of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection. But if people go away remembering only a history lesson, they may assume God acted long ago and left the scene. So it’s also crucial to showcase how God is alive and active today. For this, it’s often best to make time for the extraordinary stories of the ordinary people in the pews. Hearing how God moved in a local person’s life brings the power of the Resurrection into tangible reality. And it creates a curiosity and a hunger to hear more each week.

It’s good to honor perennial guests. It’s even better to develop lasting relationships. And it’s important to remember that, for most people, a relationship with God develops as a process over time–not as a result of a one-time event or a sizzling sermon.

Through our work with the national network of Lifetree Cafes, we’ve learned to treat everyone as ongoing friends, rather than as “guests.” One way we do this is by personally inviting every person to join us each week, every week. We send, automatically, a different email message to everyone each week that describes what we’ll be talking about at the next Lifetree gathering. The consistent contact and conversation make the difference.

Easter Sunday can be much more than a once-a-year event for perennial guests. It can be one step in a long relationship with the One who said, “Now I call you friends.”

The Association of Religion Data Archives released the latest downward data in the U.S. Congregational Life Survey, citing “stark evidence of the aging and shrinking of many congregations.”

But the organization’s news release carried the headline: “Five Hopeful Signs for U.S. Congregations.”

The headline puzzled me after I read the opening paragraph: “The number of Americans with no religious affiliation continues to rise. Fewer young people are going to church. And the effects of recession have placed greater burdens on religious institutions in a time of shrinking resources.”

What’s “hopeful” about that? Well, here’s what the researchers cited (followed by a few of my questions).

1. “More caring activities.” Worshipers are more likely to be involved in social service or advocacy groups outside the congregation, and contributed to charitable groups other than the church. (Is this a sign the church is becoming more outward-focused, or a sign the church’s inward focus requires members to look outside for opportunities to serve?)

2. “Climbing the academic ladder.” More worshipers (47 percent) have a college degree. (How should we interpret the finding that as congregations become more academically inclined they also report a shrinking excitement about the congregation’s future?)

3. “Keeping up with the technological times.” The share of congregations with websites has risen from 43 to 77 percent. And 74 percent of churches use email. (What does this tell us about congregations’ success with connecting technology to spiritual growth?)

4. “More diverse leadership.” The proportion of female pastors in mainline churches has grown to 28 percent. (How much has male clergy dominance contributed to church decline?)

5. “Happy people in the pews.” Most members say they’re satisfied with their spiritual life and their worship services. (Does contentment with the status quo help or hurt a shrinking church’s willingness to change in order to reach the majority?)

I’m not sure I’d characterize all these observations as “hopeful signs” of church decline.

But, aside from these signs, I do see some encouraging byproducts coming from the current challenges facing the church. Here’s my list:

1. The heightened pain of decline causes more church leaders and members to seriously evaluate their mission, ministries, and methodologies. That’s a good thing. The willingness to consider healthy change becomes more tangible as pain and loss increase.

2. Diminishing budgets lead to staff cuts. Fewer paid staff means a de-professionalizing of ministry. That’s a good thing. Part of what’s killing the church today is the congregation’s assumption that ministry is something that paid professionals do. Increasingly, as paid staffs shrink, members will realize that the ministry of the church is their responsibility.

3. The older members who currently fund many churches are dying. The old endowments are draining away at a quickening pace. It’s increasingly difficult to pay for and maintain empty church buildings. That’s a good thing. More people will realize the church is not a building.

4. As congregations get smaller, more people will recognize the forgotten benefits of small. People know one another. People notice when someone’s missing. People care for one another. These are good things.

5. More churches in town will see the need and the value in cooperating and sharing resources. That’s a good thing.

Most importantly, whenever our human efforts begin to stall, fail and crumble, we’re compelled to admit we’re ultimately not in control. That’s a good thing. Sometimes God has a way of reminding us of his supremacy. He wants his church to rely more on him than on glib speakers, sprawling “campuses,” clever marketing, showy theatrics, fat bank accounts, or throngs of fans.

Through this recalibration of the church, God is up to something good.

I watched from the back of this large, high-profile church as the Sunday morning service unfolded. The professional musicians performed with precision. Their sound was flawless. Their attractive faces were projected larger than life on the huge overhead screens.

Though the screens showed the songs’ lyrics, I heard no voices from the audience. I noticed that only about 10 percent of the crowd was singing along. Most gazed in silence at the talent on the stage. They applauded warmly as the band wrapped their 20-minute set.

After a couple of video announcements, it was time for the sermon. The pastor, pre-recorded on video, told us we were “in for a real blessing”–a guest speaker who would tell us how to live a better life. The speaker strode to the center of the stage and delivered a well-rehearsed half-hour speech on how God desires his people to be slender.

After several weight-loss tips, a couple of light-hearted stories, and a scripture, the speaker concluded with an exhortation to buy his book after the service at the sales area just outside the sanctuary. “In addition to a special discount, I’ll be happy to give you a non-fat autograph this morning,” he said. The corpulent couple in front of me grinned, nodded, and politely applauded as the fit author trotted off stage.

After a very efficient offering time, the worship announcer told us he had a special surprise for us. Then, with a lively fanfare from the band, a current contestant from television’s “American Idol” emerged onto the stage. The crowd erupted into wild cheering, jumped to their feet, and craned to get a better view of the Idol.

I couldn’t help but notice that after some 60 minutes of regular worship, it was the Idol that electrified the congregation.

As I drove away from this popular church, I wondered what this morning’s worshippers would remember, what they would tell others about the service this day. Thinking about the congregation’s response, I guessed it was the Idol.

Idols have a way of snatching our attention, our admiration, our adoration. And I suspect that’s exactly why God warned us so clearly about the allure of idols. They distract our devotion to him.

But it’s not just television stars that hijack a congregation’s worship. Other, more common, religiously correct things upstage what should be the true object of our devotion. How often have you seen these things command more adoration than the Savior himself?

• The music
• The musicians
• The sermon
• The preacher
• The famous preacher
• The famous preacher’s book
• The liturgy
• The Bible
• The denomination
• The building
• The offerings
• The attendance

What or who most frequently captures your attention, your imagination, your admiration?

“But what about the biblical mandate to preach?” he asked.

Now I was puzzled. First, I wondered how his concept of preaching confined itself to mere lecture. In order for preaching to be preaching, must it exclude everything that’s not one guy lecturing at a microphone?

Then I wondered about his assertion of “the mandate.” I told the audience that I didn’t conclude that “the mandate” of scripture was to preach. Yes, Jesus instructed his disciples to go out and preach. But when I think of a “mandate,” I think a little bigger. I’d consider scripture’s mandate to be something big, such as “make disciples,” or “help bring people into a growing relationship with Jesus,” or accomplish Jesus’ Great Commandments: love God, love people.

Those are mandates, with significant outcomes. And, as faithful followers of Christ, we need to find effective ways to pursue those mandates. That may include some preaching. But, ultimately, we’re not called to preach. We’re called to reach.

If we want to be effective at following the real mandates, and to be more successful at reaching people, at communicating, we would do well to look at the methods of the master communicator, Jesus.

COMPLETE THE COMMUNICATION

First, Jesus modeled a true understanding of communication. He knew that communication is not merely sending information. In order for communication to happen, people need to receive and be transformed by the message. It’s Jesus’ Parable of the Sower.

I often hear preachers defend the flat lecture method as pure in its own right, armored with theological education, marinated in exhaustive sermon prep, and festooned with biblical truth. All of that is good, but if it doesn’t complete the communication process, it’s a waste of everyone’s time. It’s akin to asking your child to join you for a game of catch, and you hurl beautifully thrown balls in every direction but your child’s. You may feel like a wonderfully athletic pitcher, but you’re not playing catch. You’re playing with yourself. And your kid gets nothing out of your performance.

ENGAGE PEOPLE

Jesus used lots of methods to communicate and transform lives. He didn’t confine his messages to flat lecture. He engaged his people with memorable experiences and interaction. He involved people in colorful feats. He used fish and dirt and rocks and water to engage his people. He encouraged questions. He didn’t fear give-and-take interaction.

When he set out to teach about humble servanthood, he could have given a plain lecture. He could have handed out a fill-in-the-blank worksheet. But he didn’t do that. He dropped to his knees and washed his people’s feet. He engaged them in a way that connected, in a way they would never forget.

FOLLOW THE LEADER

If we desire to effectively pursue the big mandates, we need to act a lot more like Jesus. How? Include captivating, meaningful experiences. Allow questions. Give opportunities for everyone to talk and engage with those around them.

One Sunday in my church we decided to re-enact one of Jesus’ lessons on forgiveness. The youth group rigged up a wooden pallet with a pulley at the ceiling. On cue, the kids lowered the pallet into the sanctuary. A form on the pallet was covered with a sheet. The pastor told the story of a similar experience that Jesus used, as recorded in Mark 5. “This is an account not only of healing, but of faith and forgiveness,” he said. He then walked over, slowly removed the sheet, and revealed a loaf of bread and cups of wine. The congregation gathered around for a most memorable communion.

Another pastor friend wanted to engage his congregation in an experience of running from God. Before people arrived he placed an overly ripe dead fish in front of a fan in the sanctuary. For the message time, he asked everyone to move to the center aisle and stand in darkness as he related the story of Jonah. He asked the people to share with one another a time they felt like running from God. Then he asked them to share how they were feeling about this dark, confined, smelly experience.

They connected–with the message, with one another, and with God. Weeks later, one man told the pastor that this fishy experience came flooding back to him just as he was tempted to enter into a shady business deal. He turned it down because he didn’t want to run from God and find himself in a “dark, smelly mess.”

That’s transformational teaching. It’s an experience. It’s Jesus-style teaching.

I witnessed an estimated 50 million faithful gather in one place to seek the Almighty’s favor, wash away their sins, and spend time with their admired religious leaders.

This is Kumbh Mela. Hindus–and others–from throughout India and neighboring countries flock to Allahabad, India, every 12 years for a six-week festival of faith.

I’ve never experienced anything like it. It was breathtaking, overwhelming, chaotic, confusing, and, at times, dangerous. Stampedes claimed dozens of lives.

On the main bathing days, endless streams of people crush toward the Ganges and Yamuna Rivers before dawn. Thousands of police and military personnel do their best to keep the chanting crowds orderly.

Along the way, I observed some logistical factors that may be of interest to church leaders in other countries who aspire to attract ever-larger throngs to their Sunday morning services. So, here’s my list of mega-big recommendations, direct from Kumbh Mela.

IF YOU WANT THE BIGGEST CONGREGATION . . .

1. Wear nothing but ashes. Even on cold mornings, the most revered leaders bare all for the adoring crowds.

2. For obvious health reasons, make sure to use swiftly moving water for what they call the Holy Dip. And advise your favorite devotees to be first into the water.

3. Offer your attendees high-demand ministry items in the campus store, such as musk, animal bones, and medicinal herbs.

4. Equip elders with poles and sticks–in the event that visitors do not follow proper protocol. (I learned this the hard way after standing in the wrong place.)

5. Forget parking lot attendants. Just block all roads within five miles of the event and insist everyone walk.

Seriously, though, I was awestruck with the spiritual hunger in this place. So many people of all ages, all colors, and all walks of life, going to elaborate lengths to appeal to their perceived deities, to find freedom from their sins.

It was, in a way, an out-of-body glimpse of the entire world’s people. I wondered what the one true God was thinking.

I found myself thanking my Lord for finding me, loving me, and redeeming me. And I prayed that he would also lead these millions of pilgrims into his fold as well. Maybe he’ll use you and me to help. Not by attempting to create the largest single congregation. But by creating the largest demonstration of his true love.

Why have they turned their backs on a community of believers? What is it about today’s church that keeps them away?

Over the last year, while working on a major documentary film that examines America’s state of faith and the condition of the church, I’ve talked with hundreds of people. Many of these are de-churched. They’re done with the organized church. In some cases, they’re wounded. In other cases, they’re simply disinterested.

Last week I interviewed Tony, a father of four young children, who left his church a year ago. He no longer attends any church. Or small group. Or Bible study. He hasn’t abandoned his faith in Jesus. He’s just done with what Jesus’ church has become.

In some ways, he knows too much.  He spent 10 years in professional ministry, some of it in a couple of America’s well-known large churches. “I’m over the concerts and speeches and the contrived effort to call a gathering of 3,000 people a family,” he said.

“What I value now is proximity,” he wrote in his blog. “The only leaders I care to hear are those willing to know me and be known. Not in some official capacity over Starbucks with their church credit card in hand. But with a friend, a person living honestly in their own right with no agenda or ‘line’ to keep–but possessing the strength of character to have their own voice, doubts and convictions.”

Tony worries about the hidden curriculum of pastoral leaders who intentionally keep a professional distance from their church members, who avoid forming real relationships. Tony fears the unintended take-away: maybe that’s how God operates too. Unwilling to know and be known.

Tony is like a lot of de-churched people. He simply doesn’t find value in participating in church as we know it. “I’m detoxing and looking for what remains that is real, that is love, and that is true.”

My interview with Tony was sobering. And disturbing. But also encouraging. Because what Tony yearns for . . . is something the church of Jesus can be. If we choose to. He’s not looking for perfection or polish or pious professionalism. He’s looking for real people who are willing to admit they don’t have it all together, but realize we’re all in this together. Humbly, fumbly, looking to follow the One who is perfect.

We need Tony–and the millions like him.