Reflecting on Microchurches, in a world reshaped by pandemic
Since we released this modest little book about modest little churches, there has been a surprisingly warm response. Of course, I expected the practitioners of the small to find these ideas both helpful and reinforcing, but the real surprise has been the openness of the established church to this smaller way. I wrote most of this book while I was living in Ireland, and finished it weeks before the emergence of a global COVID 19 pandemic. Most of the churches in Ireland would already be considered small (given an American sensibility), so for them to consider integrating microchurches, especially in the light of the upheaval of the pandemic, was really more about coming to terms with a new pattern of how we conceive of and define what the church is, not its size. This gave me new insight into the whole work of change, novelty and considering something that feels new.
Time to Change
Reflecting on the 3 years since this book was first released, 2020 in particular will be remembered as particularly painful, arduous and strange. The impact of a global pandemic and life on lockdown created difficulties for almost everyone on the planet. But 2019 might have even been worse, at least for those of us living in the US. Our cities were on fire, our families divided, our churches being torn apart, our discourse all but dead. A perfect storm of long delayed justice, the rise of the social media mob, the stubborn resistance of racist ideologies, the loss of humility in our public discourse, a demagogue in national leadership, and the fruition of a postmodern conception of truth, left us all in a fog of confusion, anxiety and broken relationships.
The church, once understood as a refuge from such stormy times, had become so immersed with the empire, we fared no better. If anything, the decimation of the time hit us harder because we were so unprepared for it. And we quickly found out about our capacity to cope with change. It is clear we were not ready.
In more conventional times, churches would typically resist change, what seminal change theorist Kurt Lewin would call “dynamically conservative.”[1] He argued that leading change is essentially about managing resistance, or modifying the forces of change and resistance to change. You do this by reducing the tension between the two. In conventional times, then, it was the diplomat or the coalition builder that best led us through change.
But in times of crisis or catastrophe, change is uncontested (or at least not in the same way). In extreme cases, there is no resistance left to manage. Imagine for instance, a proposal to move the location of a traditional church building. A move like that might invite sizable resistance. You would have to deal with that resistance by slowly building consensus toward that idea. But to extend the metaphor, in unstable times, you show up to the building one day to find that it has burned to the ground. You have no choice but to find another place to meet. The resistance to that change is gone because the building is gone. The change is forced upon you. When the proverbial building is in ashes the people will look to you to lead them in change as an act of compassion.
This is close to where we are. Change is forced upon our churches as massive numbers of the people of God are simply not returning to the old form. That is the bad news. The good news is that this same dynamic promises a window of uncontested change, to explore a version of the church which we were already craving. If we ever wanted to do something smaller, to embrace the microchurch, now is the time. It is an idea whose time has come.
Honoring the Small
Naturally, microchurches are not really something new. Only that word is. But the word itself is a kind of revelation, as we have coined something 10–20 years ago that is now finding life in popular parlance everywhere. In the last few years, we have seen the rise of microbusiness, microschools, microhomes, micromobility, microaggression, micropowers, microtasks, microservices, microcredentials, and many others. I even saw an article recently defining the rise of micronations (usually small islands claiming sovereignty). In other words, there is a zeitgeist emerging that reframes power, beauty and even goodness as small. Everything we care about is being reconsidered and valued anew in its smallest form.
Of course, I make an argument for the microchurch that is theological and which stands alone. I would be a part of a microchurch even if the whole world was saying only big churches count. In the early years of my life, that was close to the case. I am not suggesting we embrace the strength and elegance of the smallest form of church because it is a trend. However, it does now seem to be an idea whose time has come, and so, for as long as that lasts, we ought to enjoy it.
I was reminded recently of this claim by the enigmatic investor, statistician and essayist Nassim Talib, “One cannot judge a performance in any given field (war, politics, medicine, investments) by the results, but by the costs of the alternative (i.e. if history played out in a different way).”[2] And in the case of considering, measuring and judging the performance of the church in our time (perhaps in every time) he is right to remind us to consider the cost of the alternative. What if, as the culture yearns for smaller, more human expressions of the church we persist in our stubborn pursuit of the biggest churches we can? I shudder to think.
Recovering from Megalomania
For more than 20 years I have been openly critical of the cult of personality and controlling hierarchy in our country’s biggest churches (and all the medium-sized ones who are trying to emulate them). But the last few years have felt like a tipping point in that argument. What was halfhearted agreement from most Christians (while holding on to the belief that it somehow didn’t apply to their pastor/church) has evolved into a more sobering acknowledgement. We are all coming to the conclusion that something might be seriously wrong with the way we do leadership. We might be in trouble here.
I am coming to believe that part of the reason we are looking with longing to the microchurch and the networked community they can become is because we are reeling from the death throes of 20th century leadership. The great man myth has been exposed and we are not just moving on, we are recognizing our own compromise and culpability in the whole affair.
It’s not just that narcissists took over our churches, it’s that we wanted our leaders to be uncontested, triumphant and larger than life. We called it charisma but that isn’t the right word. To have charis, in the biblical sense, is to be given a gift from God. Charisma is something supernatural, unexplainable, and ultimately it hides the person upon which it rests (while giving glory to the God who gives it). This is what we would want from leaders in the church.
But when the hope for gifted leaders is paired with the very natural techniques of management, budgeting, board formation, branding, et al, you get something more problematic; a syncretic blend of hero and holy man. I believe in leadership. I believe in greatness. I really do. I just think those terms are being renegotiated in the light of the very real failures of hierarchy dependent churches.
It seems to me that, as John Cassian once said, you “heal opposites with opposites.”[3] The hope for a renewal and redemption of leadership (as a concept) in our churches, in our time, is to be found in the small. Small egos, small platforms, and small churches promise to not just activate more leaders but to heal the ones we already have. Smallness is an emerging spiritual discipline for the modern leader and the microchurch is its monastery.
Endnotes
1 David Peter Stroh, Systems Thinking For Social Change: A Practical Guide to Solving Complex Problems, Avoiding Unintended Consequences, and Achieving Lasting Results, (United States: Chelsea Green Publishing, 2015), 91.
2 Nassim Nicholas Taleb, Fooled by Randomness: The Hidden Role of Chance in Life and in the Markets (United Kingdom: Random House Publishing Group, 2008) 22.
3 Cassianus, Johannes Cassianus, The Sacred Writings of John Cassian, (Germany: Jazzybee Verlag, 2012), Book XII Ch 8.
