Change My Mind
When I was young and formative in my 20’s, I entered into course work at a theologically conservative seminary. I held a strong desire to make the world in which I live a better place. I was eager to study and learn how to have a positive effect within the realm of my faith.
Among the requirements for degree fulfillment was a class titled Church Growth. It taught about the unique dynamics of leading, managing and growing a church congregation. One of the textbooks was titled Ten Steps to Breaking the 200 Barrier. It was newly released and the interest and discussion was high among the faculty and classmates.
The premise is based on the thought that a typical assembly can grow fairly easily until it reaches around 200 people in attendance. At this number, it usually stops growing. And the author is presenting ways to help pastors and leaders get past this hurdle and enlarge their membership in order to keep moving forward.
As I entered into church ministry, I bought into this rationale 100%. I assumed if it doesn’t grow in this fashion, it eventually dies. But I had an epiphany when I read Malcom Gladwell’s The Tipping Point about 15 years later. He describes a social condition called The Rule of 150. This is based on the premise that humans can sustain a casual to close connection with a group of around 150 people and still know everyone’s name and feel a sense of belonging to that group. He states that this is important to understand, especially in work organizations if healthy productivity is expected to be maintained.
It dawned on me that this is why there is a 200 barrier in churches. It strikes against human nature to go beyond that. People want to feel safe and connected in a natural and organic way, not one induced by a flowchart. To continue to add to that number is seen as a threat to diminish that sense of place.
One of the answers to the question of how to break the 200 barrier was the need to implement policies and procedures within a well-defined organizational structure. These policies would become the basis of a strategic manual and would serve as the rule book on how to do this or that.
There can be an unintended consequence of this kind of action. Policy takes precedence over people, and keeping the rules becomes more important than tending the flock.
The human heart is far too complex to be managed by a set of regulations.
I want to make an impact on my vision of the future through a voice of persuasion, not by yelling with brute force. I’d rather make a difference by assuring someone that it’s OK to undergo a change of heart than by drawing a line in the sand and issuing an ultimatum.
As I become more aware of how change of mind happens, I have made an important observation. Change is a process that requires softening. A rigid stone doesn’t change. A warm ball of clay is easier to shape.
A tweet has never coaxed me to change my mind, but a personal story from someone I know most certainly has.
At my conservative seminary, I had a roommate who became a very close friend. 15 years after we graduated, he called to tell me he was gay. Once we had parted ways after school, he entered into a marriage with a woman and fathered two kids together with her. Yet all the while he struggled with his sexual identity. His statement to me that day on the phone was chilling.
He told me that after years of deliberation, he had come to the point of deciding between killing himself and coming out and accepting it. The agony of living a double life was too much for him to bear. He was raised to believe that his feelings of same-sex attraction were wrong and sinful, and yet he could not escape what he felt inside. The dissonance was unbearable. The turning point for him came by envisioning how painful his death would be to his children. He decided living for them was better than dying to kill his pain.
I told him he made the right choice.
I had other friends that were gay, but this was the first time I got to see inside the conflicted heart of another man so close to me. His story brought us together as better friends and we both became a little more alive and human that day.
I began to rethink my position. I now consider myself an ally, but there would have been a time that I would have been seen as the enemy of LGBTQ. I would have been labeled as bigoted and full of hate. I would have been lumped into a category with all the rest of religious conservatives.
One thing for certain, calling me a name would not have convinced me to change.
I changed because of the effect of the Rule of 150. My former roommate occupied a place in my circle. I was close enough to know him and hear his story. I related to him as a person, not as a threatening demographic whose treatment would be outlined for me in the policy manual. When he said it came down to coming out or committing suicide, I didn’t have to consult the handbook to tell me my answer. My heart knew the answer instinctively.
What is the issue about which you are most passionate? Climate change? Abortion? Bitcoin? Could there be a better way to persuade hearts other than polarized name calling.
I recommend trying to speak or write to your opposition as someone in your 150. Let them see your humanity, not just your rage. Show your point of view through a voice of vulnerability. I know I’ll be more apt to listen. And I’m sure others will too.
