-My daughter Beth after moving from Charleston (SC) to St. Louis
I've called this blog "More Thinking About Church" because I think obsessively about the church, and this blog is more thinking about it. These thoughts grow out of a sense in the last few years of not quite belonging to said institution, and yet very much belonging, a paradox based on having trouble with different church structures. Anyway, I had an epiphany the other day, which some of you may choose to call a duh moment. I realized that during my lifetime I have experienced not one, but two types of church structure, and as I have begun to unmuddle them, I have reached, if not enlightenment, at least some degree of peace.
Constitutional Model
The first of these structures I want to call the "constitutional" church, meaning a church based on a traditional denominational system of theology, usually in written form, to which the leaders (clergy) owe allegiance, and of which they are representatives. This form covers a wide range of traditions. A Roman priest who is saying mass is not merely an individual who claims to be hearing directly from God; he is a representative of the whole weighty 2000 year history and dogma of Catholicism, and while he may express personal opinions, his primary vocation is to be an agent of the authority behind him. Likewise a Presbyterian pastor is (or used to be) a faithful spokesperson for Calvinism and the Westminster Confession. When I use the term “constitutional,” I therefore mean a church in which the tradition, history, and doctrine of an ecclesiastical body is more important than the vision or personality of its clergy. Normally constitutional leaders are trained in the theology of their respective denominations, biblical languages and exegesis, preaching, liturgy, and pastoral care and counseling, all of which are to be applied in the context of a higher allegiance.
A historic outgrowth of the constitutional church is (was) the parish model of church organization. In the parish system, one man shepherds a local congregation of laymen which is small enough for him to manage, and large enough to support him financially. He is not too concerned about church growth because it is accomplished by creating new parishes rather than expanding the membership of the local church. The priest/pastor knows his flock. He preaches, teaches, administers the sacraments, marries and buries its members. He knows his people, is in their homes, and is unhurried enough to sit on the porch and talk to brother Hobart about his wife, his kids, his job, his political and social concerns, and the weather. He does all this in the name of the Bishop, Presbytery, or Convention, and incarnates their invisible presence. This does not mean, however, that he is micro-managed. Within denominational limits, he has the autonomy to apply Scripture and doctrine to the needs of his particular congregation. His people are as much his study as Bible and theology. He is very much a man in the middle.
The greatest strength of the parish system is its sense of security, warmth, and longevity, based on the shepherd-sheep relationship. People in a parish church know their priest/pastor.
There are some problems, however. One is that when the shepherd-sheep relationship is broken, contention arises, because there are personal commitments involved. Barna tells us that the average stay of a second pastor in a Protestant church is about 18 months. He is already doomed because he is not number one. Pastor number three generally does well, because he is not number two, and is perceived as a healer after the turmoil blamed on number two. (I know some wise Baptist pastors who covet the number three spot.) The problem here is not personalities, but the system.
A second problem is staleness and resistance to change. Security resists spiritual renewal. This is often connected to what is happening in the general culture, and I will come back to that later.
A third problem occurs when there is a shift, inconsistency, or hypocrisy concerning the constitution of the larger body (in doctrine or practice). This has been an issue in the major Protestant denominations for decades. The result is contention and restiveness in local parishes. It destroys the sense of security and often sets parishioners at odds with their clergy. In this case unrest flows into the church from the top.
Fourth, mentoring of younger potential leaders is weak. This is because promising candidates for ministry are trained in denominational seminaries and sent to other parishes. Therefore, future ministry in the parish seldom comes up from the grass roots.
Apostolic Model
I have tried hard to avoid this term, but I am going to persevere with it. By "apostolic" I am in no way connecting it to Jesus Only Pentecostals, nor to Catholic apostolic succession, nor to "continuing church" Anglicanism. I am using it in the modern charismatic sense, describing a church founded and led by a highly gifted individual with a passion for renewal and a vision for what the church should and can be, with a capacity to gather followers who are infected with the same vision. We might call this individual an ecclesiastical entrepreneur, but I'm sticking with "apostle."
Apostolic churches are usually large and intend to keep growing. They are generally committed to multiplication by division; that is, as they grow they create sub-units or campuses which are themselves large by the parish standard. Leaders of sub-units are directly connected to the founder, and represent his vision. Leaders are consequently raised up within the local church structure, and mentoring is much more important than in the parish model. The most serious problem with the apostolic model is obvious. It centers on the vision and energy of one man. If he is solid doctrinally and ethically, the church will be. If he is in heresy, the church will be heretical. Consider the number of churches of this type that emphasize self-esteem, positive thinking, and faith as a metaphysical force to which God Himself must submit. Powerful leaders produce powerful ideas. Thank God for a handful of apostolic churches that are rooted in Reformation and/or evangelical mainline understanding of the gospel.
Another problem in this type of church is more subjective: Stress. Apostolic churches are by nature entrepreneurial, which means they can never sit still, but are always on the way somewhere, readjusting, and honing their vision. There is the underlying assumption that the Kingdom of God can always be done better, and that the church in time and space (read: parish model) has failed. Being a loyal member can be exhausting.
A third problem results from the large size of most apostolic churches: pastoral care. Leaders in theses churches are often stretched too thin, and the everyday shepherding of individuals (the strength of the parish model) suffers. The solution to this problem is generally small groups or house churches, overseen by laymen who have had some training, but not at the level of a parish priest or pastor. That means that there is no one in leadership who exactly fits the old role, and an unspoken (or forgotten) question is, “Who exactly is my pastor?”
A Balance?
Is there a way to combine these two structures? I personally don't think so. At least, not in any given time. But over time, there is a definite balance. Jesus mentored twelve men, who in turn mentored others. The expansion of the New Testament church was based on the mentoring principle. But within a generation, Jesus' mentorees were writing what became the constitution of the new movement, and it became the foundation of the early church parish system. The Reformation saw the rise of what I am calling "apostolic" men, and again, within a generation there were a host of written Confessions that became the basis of the Lutheran, Reformed, and Baptist churches.
Safe, secure, and prosperous times in a culture will support the parish system. Insecurity and the collapse of a moral consensus in a culture will see the rise of Christian entrepreneurs. I was raised in the parish system and trained in it. I would much prefer to sit on the back porch sipping lemonade, and looking at Hobart’s corn crop and the homes of his children on the edge of his land. But Hobart today is a different man. He is working two jobs to stay in the middle class, his wife has a home business, his son is struggling with his sexual identity, his daughter is in treatment for oxycodone addiction, and in place of the corn field is a new sub-division.
The culture is in foment, and the church follows. It is exhausting, and explains the exodus of a number of evangelicals to “high” churches, especially Orthodoxy. I know the tug, and the desire for peace in the storm. It reminds me of my favorite Joseph Sobran quote: “It is exalting to belong to a church 500 years behind the times, and sublimely indifferent to fashion; it is humiliating to belong to a church 5 minutes behind the time, huffing and puffing to catch up.” But culturally, we seem to be in an apostolic time.
But, oh, I do miss the old parish system in which I grew up, predictable and secure.
