Joe McKeever

What Small Churches Do Best

Have you ever learned a lesson early in life, promptly proceeded to forget it, and then had it driven home to you years later?

Happened to me this weekend. What the lesson reinforced concerns a strength of small churches, something they can do far better than big ones can ever do.

First, the strength: small churches can do the personal element so much better. Their members are few in number, everyone presumably knows each other (or can, if they will make an effort), and therefore they can do things in a worship service the larger churches cannot because of their size.

Woe to the small church that tries to be a clone of the big one. They're turning their backs on one of their greatest strengths and copying the weaknesses of the Goliaths in town.

All right. Here is what happened this weekend, then I'll tell you the first time the Lord sent this lesson my way.

I was preaching at the Delacroix-Hope Baptist Church downriver from New Orleans in the community known as St. Bernard in the parish of the same name. Before Katrina, nearly 5 years ago, this church was actually located on Delacroix Island, a fishing village. The hurricane ruined the community and the church building disappeared. So, when the people regathered, they started meeting in a little Presbyterian church that was eventually donated to them. Their pastor for the past ten years or so, James "Boogie" Melerine, a native of the island community, has just retired and they've asked me to preach last Sunday and next.

There might have been sixty people in attendance. When the children left for their own service just prior to the sermon--I always hate that; they're my favorite group!--I was left with 35 or 40 adults. The song service was fine, but nothing indicated this was going to be an unusual hour for all of us.

Then we came to the time of the public invitation.

First, Andy came. He was middle-aged and, you'll pardon the expression, looked a little rough. He told me he was a backslidden believer who had done some bad things and wanted to bring himself back to the Lord. I prayed, he prayed, and then I asked if he would like to share this with the congregation.

When he finished speaking, I suggested that he take a seat on the empty pew off to one side and some of the men gather around and pray for him.

The rest of us went on with the invitation.

Then, Mel came. He and his wife and three children were visiting today. I had sketched the beautiful kids before church, then they ran off with the others for the children's service. Mel said to me, "I need to be saved."

We prayed together and he asked the Lord into his life.

A minute later, his wife Sydney was there, tears in her eyes, asking to be saved also.

And then, Kate, a senior adult woman in the church came. "I have an addiction," she said. Bingo was ruining her finances and destroying her life. We prayed, and then I asked if she would like to share this with the church. She told the congregation and added, "I guess it's because I'm just so lonely."

Mel and Sydney also told the congregation of their decisions today and that they want to be baptized. The people burst into applause.

I invited some of the women to gather around Kate and pray, and the rest to surround Mel and Sydney and bathe them in prayer.

It was a blessed time.

Before going to a church to preach, I always ask the Lord that people would come to Christ through me that day, but I confess that I was pleasantly surprised by this response. I rejoiced all the way home, some 25 miles.

A small church can do this, can turn the floor over to someone making a commitment of their life to Christ and know that members of the congregation will step up and surround them in prayer.

They can do this because they are small in number. A church running hundreds will almost never do this because of the sheer problem of having too many people. They'd never get away.

Over 40 years ago during my first pastorate after seminary, God sent us a genuine revival. By that, I mean one not brought to town by a visiting preacher or whipped up by any of my theatrics.

The full story is too long to relate here, but the gist of it is as follows....

Emmanuel Baptist Church of Greenville, Mississippi, was giving its new preacher (me) a hard time. We came through a revival meeting with a visiting evangelist from Memphis and saw almost no fruit from it at all. Some of the leaders of the church were fighting among themselves and the church was anything but unified.

The last Sunday morning of the revival, when the evangelist had finished, I said to the people, "Looking out among you this morning, I see a number who need to be saved. And quite a few of you have told me you intend to join this church. Yet, none of you have come. I just want to say, I don't blame you."

Letting that soak in, I added, "I wouldn't join this church either. There is a bad spirit here and the Lord is not going to let us have a spirit of revival and harvest until some people get their hearts right with Him."

That evening, after my sermon, a teenager was the first one down the aisle during the invitation. "Oh, Brother McKeever, I have such a bad attitude."

I said, "You certainly do. I want you to kneel here and confess it and come back and tell me when the Lord has forgiven you."

When she did, I said, "Here's the microphone. Why don't you tell the congregation?"

Since they all knew about the attitude problem, I thought they'd enjoy hearing the repentance. But I was not prepared for what that started.

The next thing I knew, others were coming forward to repent. They knelt and prayed, then went to the microphone to tell the congregation of their decision and commitment. Some repented publicly and asked for forgiveness.

Many tears were shed that night. The invitation went on for more than an hour. Most of the members present spent time at the altar and ten people were saved, as I recall.

That set off a full three years of revival, which was the rest of my ministry among them. We were constantly having people come to Christ and then sharing their decision with the membership.

I got away from this when we moved from Emmanuel to join the staff of Jackson's First Baptist Church. A congregation running more than a thousand can hardly conduct itself the same way one running 150 can. Before long, I had forgotten the lesson of the shared testimony, the public confession.

This weekend, the Lord reminded me.

Before leaving the subject, we need to state the obvious here: common sense has to prevail in this practice. Some members will want to abuse the microphone privilege. Congregations tire of hearing confessions from the same people all the time. The pastor should never sit down and turn the microphone over to one telling his story. The minister should always stay in charge to make sure nothing inappropriate is said, that it does not run on and on, and that the speaker stays on the subject.

The pastor will not want to announce to the congregation that, "From now on, we're going to hand the microphone to those coming forward to make a commitment." That will guarantee no one ever walks the aisle again!

The minister will want to retain the prerogative for himself to decide whether to hand the mike to someone. Even if he decides this person's testimony would be well-shared, he will want to invite them to tell it, not require or demand it of them.

When I leaned over and asked Mel if he wanted to share his story, he said, "I am not one for public speaking." I said, "Just say what you told me, that you have come to be saved, that you want to join the church and be baptized."

He thought he could do that. And he did it, very well, if I'm any judge. The people were thrilled. They did not demand eloquence but appreciated the authenticity.

In order for larger congregations to be personal, they have to be creative in finding ways for members to know and connect with each other. By planning for testimonies and personal stories to be incorporated into the services in some way, they will be able to appreciate each other as fellow strugglers and disciples. Otherwise, the members will have a more difficult time learning one another and unsaved people in the congregation will never hear stories that would have encouraged them to receive Christ.

It's sad that many a small church does not take advantage of their excellent potential to be up close and personal in ways that connect the members with one another.

Inviting people to share the decisions they have made in the service, then for the congregation to gather around and pray for them, is one way of achieving that.

Wouldn't it be awful to have a great tool in our kit--a powerful weapon in our arsenal--but one which we never used, particularly when we keep battling for survival and looking for ways to bring new life and joy into our services?