The Start of School (And the Decline of Churches)
There’s a buzz in the air. Moms are busily texting one another: “Which teacher did your kid get?” “Mr. X? Oh no! We got Ms. Y! That’s alright, they can still play with each other at recess time!” New backpacks are being bought (or last year’s backpacks are being cleaned out). Waterproof name labels are being pressed against new water bottles and BPA-free bento lunch boxes.
New shoes are being zappo’ed. Systems are being researched and put in place to make mornings run as smoothly as possible (e.g. the morning checklist, the snack/lunch box idea list (I made one of these and I’ll share below)). Kids (and parents) are nervous (and excited) about the start of another school year. Will they like their new teacher? Will they make friends easily? Will the work be more rigorous?
And how, parents are asking one another at playdates or when they bump into each other at Trader Joe’s, did the summer fly by?
As quickly as it flew, though, if you sit for a quiet moment to reflect upon your summer, you’ll realize how much you packed in and how much all of you grew.
Physically, emotionally, intellectually.
I remember as a kid returning to school and gasping that my classmates were inches taller than when I last saw them. My parents had a theory: kids caught up on sleep over the summer and that precious sleep enabled them to have growth spurts.
Because you know I’m super into reflecting, here’s what came up when I asked myself how we grew this past summer:
My daughter is a lot more secure. Our concentrated family time this summer bred a stronger sense of independence within her.
My kids get along and play together so much better. Their relationship is at a difference place than when it was at the start of the summer.
The kids literally outgrew all their shoes and many of their clothes.
James and I realized that no matter what we’re given (lots of time or little time), we are always able to figure out a new balance of tending to our careers, marriage, physical health, play, and alone time, so long as we work together.
At the same time, we continually reminded ourselves that it’s okay to be less productive for a few months each year! We don’t always need to keep up the same level of intensity!
Hugh now reads by himself confidently.
I finished the first draft of my book!
We had many adventures: across the world to Italy, just down the California coast, to amusement parks, to the mountains…
We strengthened our relationships with friends, relatives, and our church.
Though the summer was packed, we managed to find a lot of time to rest and have a slower-paced rhythm.
The fall season is an entirely different animal, which I’ll share about in next month’s blog post, scheduled near the Fall Equinox.
So, I pose the question back to you: How did you grow this summer? Set aside 10 minutes of quiet time to reflect upon that question and see what comes up for you.
And here’s the snack/lunch cheat sheet if you’re interested:
On an entirely different topic, there was a piece in The Atlantic last month entitled, “The Misunderstood Reason Millions of Americans Stopped Going to Church.” Doing what I do, the title jumped out at me, as well as to my colleagues, who had mixed responses.
I had a very different response from most of them and even wrote a letter to the editor about it. I don’t know if it’ll be published but here it is below, if you’re interested in my thoughts on this giant and much debated subject.
Dear Editor, As a young female minister in the United Methodist Church, a mainline Protestant denomination that’s been on the decline for the entirety of my life, I so appreciated Jake Meador’s take on church decline, which matches well with my own experience.
I’m a mom of two with a full-time career, constantly struggling against overwhelm and burnout. If I weren’t a minister, I too wonder if I’d attend church, as it takes time that could be devoted to rest or catching up with friends I’m too busy to see otherwise.
However, Isabel Fattal’s response to Meador was spot on, countering his suggestion to ask more (instead of less) of churchgoers with a sobering observation: “If only American life didn’t make such a prospect feel so daunting.”
The Christian community that Meador describes is beautiful, reflecting the kind of ethos I’ve tried to create in every congregation I’ve worked with. But after countless conversations with tired parents who are juggling school activities, sports, relationships with partners, and their own physical health (and experiencing that struggle for myself once I had children), I’ve arrived at a different conclusion.
Maybe God doesn’t want us to burn ourselves out even more. Maybe God isn’t even asking us to take on the burden of resisting culture in the way that Stanley Hauerwas (one of my favorite theologians, who Meador also references) invites us to.
Maybe it’s okay that the young families who come to my church can’t commit in the same way that the former generations could because they face a particular combination of occupational, financial, and social demands that those generations didn’t have to: women who can’t serve the church like they once used to because they have full-time careers, higher costs of living, a never-ending pressure for kids to join extracurriculars, etc.
A few years ago, I would have criticized this as consumerist Christianity in which people stop by for an hour on a Sunday morning to get an uplifting message and enriching program for their children without signing up for more.
This consumerist Christianity is often contrasted with the kind of community that the church is supposed to be—one of mutual care and giving.
However, this false dichotomy overlooks the other kinds of communities we give ourselves to that aren’t churches but still aren’t any less important in the eyes of God—our families, our children’s school communities, the friends we ditch church to have brunch with on quiet Sunday mornings.
Our era is different than that of the Acts community Paul wrote about 2,000 years ago and that Meador harkens back to. For one, a severe in-group identity with high costs for membership was a natural result of those unique set of circumstances. The early Christians were convinced Jesus was coming back within their lifetime, hence, Paul’s advice to refrain from marriage and give all of their money to the communal pot. It’s also natural that the church would and should take on fresh expressions in every age.
Instead of making us parents feel even more guilty for what we’re not able to give, what if we highlight the nature of the God we want to worship in the first place—a God of infinite love and compassion who recognizes the love and care we’re extending to those around us, even if it looks different than what some Christians say it should look like.
And this is what I ultimately believe to be the purpose of the church today, to offer this message that truly is counter-cultural. That is, not to give more of ourselves but that there is nothing we need to do or not do to earn the infinite love of God. It was given to us the moment we came into being, without having contributed anything to the world. It will never be taken away from us. Here is “the gospel,” the good news for you.
If you have any thoughts about summer reflections, transitioning into the fall season, lunch hacks, or the piece on church attendance, comment below! I always appreciate your perspectives!