Handling The Newcomers

Even the best PCCs have one of those meetings from time to time. This evening was certainly one of them. Everyone seemed to be at odds with everyone else. Perhaps it was the darker night that was affecting their mood.

“…which is exactly why it shouldn’t be me!” huffed Mary, red in the face looking indignant and cross. David was slightly scared of his wife Mary, and especially so during PCC meetings when she seemed to steam and froth at the mere idea that she might take on another responsibility. David thought Mary really ought to take on more at church but could never say so. She hadn’t actually done anything since the summer fete in 2002, yet it blazed vividly in people’s minds like it was yesterday because she reminded people of it so very often.

“No of course not Mary, not after all you did with the bunting…” Rev John trailed off hoping someone else would speak up. Someone had to volunteer. The Newcomers had been coming for 23 months now and it was about time someone had this conversation with them. But please, Lord, don’t let it be me, he thought.

“We absolutely have to do something about this,” said Richard firmly. Richard was a bit of a know-it-all, but in fairness he did know it all. “Why don’t we make a list of reasons why Christians are called to contribute financially to the church, then discuss it?”

What an annoyingly good idea, thought Sarah, pursing her lips as Richard dished out coloured post-it notes. Sarah wished she could have good ideas like Richard, but he always got in there first.

“Some people might think…” started Claire, by which she meant herself, “…that the newcomers should give so we can have a break. Just saying.”

Rev John looked at his knees, noticing what looked like bolognese on his left leg, and thought it simply madness that anyone would think contributing to the church was something that should be taken in turns. It was part of being a Christian. It was for everyone. How did people not know? Then he wondered when he’d last preached on it, and realised he’d only actually done it once, ever, well over a year ago.

“Telling them it’s just their turn isn’t really a good reason.” said Richard. “I was thinking more along the lines of giving generously is what keeps the church afloat.”

“Pah!” snorted Sarah. Sarah was a retired nurse, and whilst being one of the most committed Christians most people could think of, including Rev John, she never seemed that fond of ‘the church’. Indeed it was her favourite thing to complain about.

“Come off it Richard. The church has plenty. Look at St Paul’s Cathedral. It was on the telly last night. All those fancy buildings.”

“We can’t sell St Paul’s Sarah!” said Rev John with a note of desperation in his voice. “And it’s not even in this diocese.” He could hardly believe he was making this argument, but looking around, he detected that Sarah’s point about “All those fancy buildings” had maybe hit a chord with others. So he pressed on, “The church isn’t rich. It’s not. What pays for it, is the people in the pews.” He looked around for support, but it seemed only Richard was convinced on this one, and the rest avoided his eyes. Rev John hated confrontation but this was important so he took a deep breath and began.

“The church isn’t supported by the state. Once upon a time we were mostly supported by money from the Church Commissioners, and still using funds from Queen’ Anne’s bounty, which was donated over 300 years ago to help poor clergy. Not only are we not supported by that anymore, but if we just relied on that, or on selling of our land, we’d be missing a fundamental point.”

He paused and looked at them. They just stared back. He briefly wondered if he might also have bolognese on his face too. He continued in the same slightly desperate tone, “Giving is part of being a Christian. Regardless of what other sources of income the church has or doesn’t have, and in this case Sarah, it really doesn’t have, we should give because it’s what we’re called to do. Jesus…”

He trailed off. The atmosphere was tense. Richard felt sorry for Rev John. He was a good sort but really not cut out for handling disagreements. The poor chap looked like he might break. He was far better at the pastoral stuff. And was that bolognese sauce on his shoulder?

Rev John could see Richard staring at him intently and thought miserably that perhaps he wasn’t convinced either. He concluded, “…Jesus teaches us that generosity is really important.” He knew he was right on this point but his tolerance for confrontation had been reached and his was filled with self-doubt and frustration. His dog collar felt very tight.

Mary, who was normally a blustery and severe lady, was actually very sensitive deep down and hated ill feeling, even though, if you asked her husband David, she was normally the root of it. She broke the atmosphere by saying “Well John, I think that’s a very good point and should certainly go on the post it notes.” She prodded David and hissed “Well write it down then David.”

David looked at Rev John and asked. “I’ll just write ‘Can’t use bounty’ shall I?”

Instead of answering, Rev John sighed and looked out of the window, wondering absently if he’d left tissues in his cassock pockets again when he’d put a dark wash on before leaving the vicarage. He’d buy sellotape on his way home just in case. Oh, what a joyless day, Lord. If only people naturally felt the urge to give, and then they wouldn’t have to sit round with post it notes stuck all over their elbows and knees.

Kevin the pastry chef, who had also noticed Rev John’s dinner splashed indiscriminately about his clothing, felt sympathy with his situation. They were both single men in their late forties just trying their best at life. In Kevin’s case it was creating exquisite macarons, and in John’s it was saving souls. Kevin had been studying his Holy Bible with the same attention he gives Mary Berry’s Baking Bible, so said helpfully,

“Here’s why I think we should contribute to the church, for what it’s worth. Jesus’ work was supported by women; Mary Magdalene, Joana and Susanna. Even though he was the Son of God. He could turn water into wine and raise the dead and that. He could’ve supported himself with way more money than Queen Anne’s bounty, but he didn’t. Jesus said it was more blessed to give than to receive, and so he allowed those ladies to support his ministry, which was a blessing for ‘em. We should give, not just ‘cos there’s a need, but ‘cos we’re blessed when we give, and it’s what Jesus said we should do. When we do what Jesus says, it’s how we get closer to Him. I think that’s more important than what the money’s actually for.”

Kevin wasn’t the most eloquent of communicators, thought Rev John, but boy could he get a point across. What a relief. Every church needed a Kevin. John smiled wearily.

Suddenly Natalie stood up to put the coffees on. The meeting had run on, again. Amy, the youngest PCC member, who ran youth group with Natalie, said “I have to catch the bus. We didn’t really talk about how to deal with the newcomers, did we?”

Rev John sighed and said “No, I think that’s all for tonight folks. Newcomers and how we talk to them about joining in will have to wait until next time. But I think we’re onto the right track. We’ll pick it up next time. Let’s get the biscuits out and say the Grace.”

If you want to read more from Rev John and the gang at St. Someone’s click here

Trouble Brewing: The Great Refreshment Debate Continues

Remember [THIS] quite provocative post about whether or not we charge for refreshments? Which side of the fence are you on? Which side is your church on? Think the matter is all wrapped up? Think again…

A friend and fellow colleague of mine from the Diocese of Leeds, has plenty to add to the ‘after service hospitality’ debate, but she’s looking at it from another angle. Not the cost, but the quality.

I’d like to share her article with you, to see whether these thorny issues exist in our churches here in the Diocese of Durham. Let me know what you think in the comments section. Perhaps the debate about after service refreshments has only just begun…

Jo Beacroft-Mitchell writes:

“Ever had one of those conversations where you thought you were talking about one thing but it turned out that what you were actually talking about was something else entirely?

Twitter went a bit manic today when a seemingly innocuous discussion about Coffee and its general quality in church uncovered a seemingly bottomless well of discontent and frustration – which it turns out isn’t really about coffee at all!

The collective conversation which ensued is too lengthy to repeat here – suffice to say that the potential for a book exploring the subject in-depth was mooted as a possibility. But in a nutshell the flow of the conversation went something like this:

A Rev. Twitter buddy of mine was in trouble with member or members of her church because the coffee being served at lent groups had been switched from instant to ‘proper coffee’! Trivial, yes? We thought so, and had a brief titter – but then, someone else asked – why the concern over such trivial matters and why do they seem to blow out of all proportion so very often?

And why, while we are on the subject, is the coffee generally served up by churches so woefully awful? Lots more people seemed to join the throng, observing that not only was the coffee generally awful, but the tea and biccies were usually fairly low rent too, and while we’re at it – why do churches insist on sticking up badly designed posters all wonky on scruffy looking noticeboards, what’s with all those old piles of dusty parish mags at the back and why, in short was the church so generally determined that ‘that’ll do’ would do?

As the conversation continued it seemed the original problem arose because ‘proper’ coffee was all too expensive and that whilst ‘young folk’ could fritter their money on such frivolity as ‘posh coffee’ the church ought to be above such pointless frippery and stand up for… what exactly? Bland, second rate beverages?

So now we see – this isn’t about coffee at all! this is about piety! self denial! we are shonky and a bit amateurish because it is what God wants! Away with your warm hospitality, we don’t want to offer the best we can afford to our brothers and sisters, even less to occasional visitors – what God really wants is for us to offer a grudging mug of luke-warm sludge and a broken digestive to our guests – right?

Erm, well, not exactly. The Bible is fairly clear on the subject of hospitality – my current Bible study plan covers passage after passage in the OT commanding Israel to offer the best of their hospitality, to welcome all comers with the very best they have to offer. Jesus didn’t turn water into any old cheap plonk – He saved the best for last. The prodigal son does not return to a warmed over Pot Noodle.

The Bible exhorts us again and again to treat others with the generosity, love and welcome that we would wish to receive – why? Because when we honour each other we honour our Creator – because “when you do this to the least of these, you do it to me”.

So what are we saying when we offer less than the best of ourselves? Whose money, exactly, are we saving? And what message does our welcome give about the Gospel we proclaim? Are we guilty of perpetuating an image of the church as cheap, scruffy and deteriorating?

There is much more to be said following today’s discussion – about how this ‘second best is good enough’ attitude spills into our financial stewardship, about attitudes to change and attitudes to the young, about Fair Trade, about our image of ourselves and of God – but for now I would like to exhort each of us with the words of a fellow Twitter user @crimperman: “Lets give up bad coffee for Lent!

Let’s throw open our doors, welcoming all comers with warm and open arms, tidying up a bit and putting on a decent cuppa. Given the cost of Good Friday I’d say a couple of quid on a packet of Fair Trade Costa Rican was a small price to pay.”

Thanks Jo.

Wow. Tough stuff to hear, perhaps. But does Jo hit the nail on the head? Is this about us being a bit slack, or thinking decent refreshments are too much of an expense? Or is it something else? Perhaps we’ve just never really though about it before.

We’re so comfortable in our churches that maybe we fail to see what visitors see. Maybe we’re just so used to the lovely cups that Mavis donated in 1992, that we no longer notice the chips in them or that none of the saucers match. Not because we don’t care, but because it’s never crossed our mind to question it.

If first impressions do count when we’re trying to welcome new folk, and show off how generous and loving God is, perhaps what Jo writes is a timely reminder to have a bit of a Spring (OK Winter) clean and do something about the quality of our refreshments. What do you think?

You can read Jo’s other posts about stewardship here.

 

Trouble Brewing: The Great Refreshment Debate

This article might be a little provocative, but then, if we only wrote/read about that with which we agree, would we continue to grow? I hope this will at least stimulate debate, even if it falls short of direct suggestions or wisdom!

…………………

In December’s article “Room at My table”, the theme was generosity through hospitality. For me, hospitality is an integral part of generosity, and if we can get hospitality right as a church, we’re on the right track. I often encourage people to think about what a really hospitable church would look and feel like.

Churches across the land are good at finishing a service by inviting people to stay back for a chat and a brew, i.e. offering hospitality. This is a story about that after-service gathering. It’s not really a story about any specific church but, in many ways, it is a story about all our churches. And it’s a story that asks a question: “What message are we sending?”

…………………

“And don’t forget, at the end of the service you’re all invited back to our hall for refreshments.”

The vicar was going through the notices before we sang the final hymn and he blessed us and sent us forth to go in peace to love and serve the Lord. Amen.

I always try to hang around for coffee after I preach on Sundays, as it’s a nice way to get to know people and hear what they really thought of the sermon. After a few custard creams people let their guard down and tell the visiting preacher exactly how the sermon could be improved.

As an outsider / visitor / novice church-goer myself, I still feel like the Spectator of Parish Life. Sometimes, I have an internal voice that sounds suspiciously like Sir David Attenborough observing the congregation in their natural setting. Strange but true. On this particular Sunday, Sir David’s charming voice was saying:

“The parishioners were in their natural habitat, gathered around tables in small groups. The mostly female group was drinking coffee and tea, while a few males stood in smaller groups talking. There were plates of digestives, pink wafers and the odd bourbon, the biscuits of choice for the Anglican. The Parishioners appeared relaxed and content in their environment.”

Having been delayed by signing the register, I’d avoided the queue for refreshments, which, it’s important to remember, I’d been invited to partake in.

A very cheerful gentleman put his hand on my shoulder and steered me straight up to the kitchen hatch- behind which all the caffeine magic happens- and insisted, “Someone get this lassy a cuppa!” while another parishioner said, in a spot of post-generosity-sermon-banter, “And you’ll not have to pay for it mind, that one’s on me. See, we’re generous here!”, and they kindly paid for my brew. This was handy, as I had no money on me, having given it all at the offertory.

I was shown to a free seat to enjoy my coffee, and was thoroughly looked after by the jolly people of St. Somewhere’s, who made me feel ever so welcome.

But here’s the rub. Since my appointment 10 months ago, I’ve been lucky enough to visit and preach at dozens of churches. This exposure has been a great learning experience, and has taught me, among other things, that we, the Church are brilliant at refreshments. And, on a seemingly completely separate topic, we’re often rubbish at dealing with the subject of money.

Seemingly separate. But actually linked. You see we get in a right stew over “After service refreshments”. And we’re in a blend when it comes to providing refreshments, charging for refreshments, generously contributing supplies for the refreshments, inviting people to join us for refreshments and putting a plate out for donations for refreshments.

The crux of it is, are we collecting money, or are we offering hospitality? Of course, many people would say we’re doing both – the money covers the cost of the hospitality.

But then, is it really hospitality if people have to pay for it? Many of us would say that no-one actually has to pay for their cup of coffee, but how would a visitor know this? …

In the end, I’m not sure if we really can say we are both offering hospitality and also collecting money.

But wait there! I hear you cry. What if we want to pay our way? Isn’t that being generous? You might disagree with me here, but I don’t think it is. I think it’s like paying for goods rendered, much like in Starbucks, only much, much cheaper.

But more importantly, shouldn’t we consider the people who weren’t expecting to pay, gave all they had during the offertory, or can’t afford to pay? Could we put aside our desire to “pay our way”, in order to be more inclusive?

“Bridging the Gap” Project Officer, Ray Leonard, says “Charging could exclude people who don’t have the money. They’re invisible because of the shame associated with not having enough money, so the problem is never known by the church.

“We’re called to be warm, welcoming and hospitable. Why would we introduce anything that might be a barrier for someone? A suggested donation would be better, but even that has its problems. Someone who doesn’t put money in might feel they’re being judged.”

So if the cost of refreshments isn’t covered by the “customer”…then, by whom?

What if the cost was met by common church funds? If after-service refreshments were first and foremost about generosity through hospitality, would it create the right atmosphere for strengthening bonds between the existing congregation, building friendships with newer members, and bringing into the fold the folks on the edges?

But wait there! I hear you cry again. Can our church funds stretch this far? What about our commitment to contributing our Parish Share to the common diocesan pot[1]? Isn’t the sale of coffee and biscuits an important revenue for our church? Don’t we need this income?

Yes… perhaps. But when it does come to fund raising, whilst every little helps, let’s bear in mind that it probably is just that: very little. If we charge 50p for a coffee, we move firmly into the realms of fundraising (or cost covering), and out of the land of hospitality. And yet we don’t make an awful lot of cash in the process, whilst potentially excluding visitors from partaking.

So, charging for hospitality, is it really worth it?

[1]                      If you don’t know what Parish Share is or what it pays for click here