Do-Over

I set my guitar in my lap and smiled at the crowded living room. We had stopped meeting at Bob L’s house—too many people for him. He liked order. Jack’s house was perfect, like blue jeans. It had a big living room and kitchen, with a swimming pool out back. Jack did crazy dives off the board and splashed his two daughters and any other teenagers who showed up. He and his wife keep delicious food coming. 

This was the church I had dreamt of: one big happy family, all on the same page. The feeling was magnetic. Others joined us: A young family. A single man. An elderly couple who were instantly adopted as grandparents. Soon, we no longer fit in Jack’s living room. 

I rode with Jack in his big pickup to Sam’s Club. We loaded 30 folding chairs in the back and set them up under an arbor by the pool. I presented a strategy to become a full-fledged church which would begin in September.

I was aided by an innovative pastor in Chico who was also starting a church. Southern Baptist churches had followed a the same format for decades: Sunday School at 10:00. Worship at 11:00. Evening service at 6:00. For the committed there was a Wednesday night prayer meeting at 7:00. This schedule was as set as any Catholic liturgy.

The pastor in Chico was an iconoclast. He offered just one service on Sundays and took Sunday evening off. In place of Sunday School and the Wednesday night prayer meeting, everyone was supposed to join a small group in someone’s home during the week. He replaced the hymns with rock music and the song leader with a band that included guitars and drums.

These changes felt natural since we were already a small group that met in a home and I led singing with a guitar. All the other Baptist churches in our area followed the old script. Ours was so free, so fun, so cool.

I found an office building where we could meet on Sunday mornings. It was along a busy highway so we drew a lot of attention. We came up with a cool new name to go with our cool new way of doing church: River Valley Christian Fellowship. I drew a colorful logo and put it on a sign. This wasn’t your grandparent’s church! 

To our innovative format, we added innovative marketing. We put an ad in the paper and sent a flyer to 2000 households announcing our first service. The ad pictured a variety of people with the caption, “It’s easy to fit in at River Valley!” 

On the big day, we waited nervously for people to arrive. At 9:50, a trickle of newcomers appeared. We restrained the urge to mob them. Five minutes later, forty more walked through the door. It wasn’t the massive crowd we had dreamt of but it was respectable. We had critical mass. 

Our numbers grew. People liked our new church for the same reason they like a new car. We had that new church smell and cool new features. There wasn’t a scratch or dent on us anywhere. There had never been a fight or a discouraging word. 

One Sunday, a pretty blonde woman approached me and said, “Why don’t you lose the coat and tie? You look hot up there.” She was right. Most people dressed casually. Some even came in shorts. My attire was part of the old paradigm, like the Sunday evening service and the hymnbooks. It had to go. I carefully chose a pair of dockers and a button down shirt. I was hoping the few remaining formal dressers wouldn’t have an allergic reaction.

No one cared about my new wardrobe except the adopted grandparents. They refused to make eye contact with me during the sermon and left quickly afterward. The next day, Julie and I visited them in their modular home. They were polite but didn’t offer the customary glass of lemonade. I tried to explain why I didn’t wear a coat and tie but could tell I was getting nowhere. They never came back. We had our first dent. 

Overall, though, this was still the church of my dreams. Other churches were struggling to survive. We were growing. I managed to complete my dissertation and earn my Ph.D. Everything was on the upswing. What could stop us?

Space. We were out of space. Rent was high and the cost of buying was out of the question. I decided to keep innovating. Where was it written that church has to be on Sundays at 10:00? We could grow by becoming multiple congregations that met at various times during the week. Each could have its own pastor. We could share the cost of rent. We would enjoy the economy of scale and keep the small church feel we loved so much. 

I had a pastor-friend who loved this idea and was interested in leading a second congregation. I spent weeks crafting a 40 page set of bylaws, laying out the details of my innovative multi- congregational church. The board was enthusiastic and approved the plans. I shared the vision on Sundays and people became excited. All we needed was a confirmation vote, which I considered a formality.

On Saturday night before the vote, the phone rang. It was Bob L. “We are over at Jack’s and think you should stop this multi congregational idea.”

I stared at the receiver in disbelief. Stop it? How could I stop it? It was already underway. If there were concerns, why hadn’t they been raised earlier? If there was a gathering of the old guard, why was I not invited? The vote needed 80% to pass. It fell short by a one vote.

I went home feeling exactly as I had when Northside split. Julie and I looked at property in Oregon and thought seriously of moving there. We were looking for a secluded ranch with a long lane and a gate where we could escape church people. I still loved God but I had had it with church.