Five Things I’ve Learned from Religious R&D
By Nicole Lamarche
May 12, 2015 | I grew up in a small, vital United Church of Christ congregation in Deer Park, WA. If we were in town, we went to church. And unlike most of my peers, there has never been a time in my life that I have not been a part of a congregation. I am a sort of church nerd, albeit the inclusive, forwarding looking, justice-seeking kind.
After college, I went to seminary knowing with certainty that I wanted to be a parish minister. In seminary and then beyond, I had incredible opportunities for leadership training while serving healthy congregations in different regions of the country. I felt skilled at the craft of leading congregational life. I loved that my job was to live a life steeped in God in community with others. The work of spiritual leadership within the churches and the wider community was inspiring and nourishing.
After two years as a Pastoral Resident at a large congregation and then three years serving as a sole Pastor in a sweet village church, I felt a stirring. So I began to pray about planting a new church.
The first time I dared to say it out loud was at a workshop in Framingham, MA in the fall of 2009. I had no clue how long it would take to start a congregation from scratch. I’m guessing it was good I didn’t know. I would likely have done something else. And yet, it has been an amazing spiritual journey — the kind of thing that is obviously foolish and unreasonable, but also something I felt like I couldn’t not do. I felt called to tell an old story in a new way, to risk comfort and disruption for the hope of something fresh and nourishing for those who do not have a spiritual home.
Parker Palmer wrote that, “No reasonable person would call my early vocational decision “a good career move.” But looking at it through Thomas Merton’s eyes, I came to see that it was a first step on a life-long effort to be responsive to the imperatives of true self, the source of that inner voice that kept saying, “You can’t not do this.”
Before becoming a church planter, I loved my record. It was just so tidy. I was good at following the rules and doing it right. I knew how to achieve, to manage, to lead. But you don’t get too far into religious research and development before it becomes clear how different this really is. It is wildly unfamiliar, rapidly changing and unsteady.
There are some things that became obvious to me only once I stepped outside the work of serving established congregations to become a spiritual entrepreneur.
Church plants are like new restaurants in that 80% won’t survive. I raised money for a salary that felt more like an honorarium, accepted there would be no contribution to my pension for the foreseeable future and because there was no calling body to provide any benefits, I was out of the United Church of Christ health plan. Instead of doing work where I felt confident and capable, I was faced with what seemed like a million tasks that were new to me and there was no choice but to do all kinds of things I am not good at. Imagine a perfectionist learning that trying stuff that might not work is the only path forward.
Walter Brunell said that, “Failure is the tuition you pay for success” and this is absolutely true. I was doing census research, making meetings with people who knew the area or had ideas. I was learning to use Constant Contact and Word Press and Keynote, instead of sending content to administrative staff. I was showing up at networking events, Sierra Club meetings, Rainbow Chamber gatherings and organizing groups, instead of visiting old ladies and crafting poetry for the sermon on Sunday. Liturgy I knew, but now it is business plans and social media strategies. Preaching robed in a pulpit with packed pews was familiar, but now it is giving an intimate word of hope to less than a dozen and crafting a Twitter length sermon for the rally. I knew about Stewardship campaigns and pledge cards and faithful givers you could rely on, but now it’s exploring creative revenue streams and working to raise grants and generous gifts.
In January of 2014, the group that I gathered to serve as the Launch Team helped us move into a new season when we started worshiping, and a new church, Silicon Valley Progressive Faith Community, was born. We worship twice a month, we volunteer, we meet in small groups, we are part of social change as activists and leaders, we are a funky mix of progressive Christians, agnostics, spiritual independents and other people of conscience, and I love the diverse group that has been drawn to the vision of a congregation whose tagline is: It’s not what you believe; it’s how you love.
Because I am a life long church nerd, there are some things that became obvious to me only once I stepped outside the work of serving established congregations to become a spiritual entrepreneur.
Those of us who are attempting to create relevant faith communities for this time are doing research and development on behalf of the wider Church. It is not glamorous. The work can be lonely. The leader(s) must develop thick skin to accept critical feedback, draw on a deep well of spiritual maturity and Divine love, inspire radical generosity, all while building a capacity to navigate and make decisions in the presence of extreme uncertainty. We see trends that others can easily miss.
Those of us who are attempting to create relevant faith communities for this time are doing research & development on behalf of the wider Church.
So here is some of what I see from where I am serving in Northern California’s Silicon Valley:
- Religious communities that don’t matter will die. The congregations that are woven into the life of the communities in which they are located will survive this time of radical transformation and those that continue to see their mission solely as caring for those who show up to a building will eventually shrivel. Switch the default from looking in (it’s all about meeting our needs), to looking out (what difference can me make in this place?) and everything changes. If your goal is to be the friendly church for everyone and you aren’t clear about what niche you serve and how your congregation matters, slow decline is likely.
- This is a time for collaboration, which means coming together around shared values. This is already happening in some places, but sometimes change won’t happen until economics force us to do what we need to. Why not share a building with another religious tradition? Why not join the work of social change in the community with groups already leading? We don’t need to always have our own space, our own cause, our own agenda, only our logo on the sign. It is our religious egos that have prevented a convergence in places where it longs to happen. We all want our individual brands to come out on top, but the Spirit is bringing us all together. Check out this awesome example in Nebraska.
- The offering plate will not save us. Many congregations can put off making dramatic changes because of the generosity of previous generations, but it is clear that this model no longer serves us as it once did. People are used to giving at the grocery store check out, giving to support the fun run, giving a little more for something because we care. How do we acknowledge these trends? Perhaps it will be social entrepreneurship and innovative partnerships that generate revenue for ministries that matter. What is our version of Tom’s shoes? This is happening already in a variety of ways. St. Lydia’s has a co-working space, Simple Church sells bread, Thistle Farms has created a teashop and a marketplace to change lives and support the work financially. How can we create all kinds of avenues for generosity to be shared?
- Regular participation in religious community is not every week. Carey Neiuwhoff wrote about this in his blog, and we have experienced this in my setting. We thought that offering something monthly would increase the odds that people will show up, because it is just once. But in fact the opposite is true. Because even the most committed do not attend weekly activities, we need to offer more chances to connect. I hadn’t realized how much of a pattern was formed in my childhood. Going to church weekly was something that I learned; it is ingrained deep within me. For those who have no bodily knowledge of this pattern, showing up on occasion is regular commitment. How do we meet people where they are?
- All good things take time. In my experience in established congregations, here’s kind of what happens when an idea would emerge. The idea is brought to the leadership, the leadership puts together a task force, the task force comes up with a plan for how to implement the idea. The plan is tried; part of the plan is wrong; people get antsy because the results that were expected do not appear. People get frustrated and can’t remember the original inspiration for the idea. Then, either someone burns out or gets pissed and the resources are withdrawn. But let me say it again: All good things take time. Planting anything new or starting something new requires a group of people who care enough to try things that do not work and then keep on trying. You can’t get to the top of the mountain without walking through the valley. In order to launch new initiatives or creatively engage new ministry, spend less time coming up with the perfect plans and get busy testing out what people think, who shows up and what can be easily improved. Fail your way to something good.
Those of you engaged in religious research and development, what would you add to this list?
Inside photo: justinwyne, “Silicon Valley From Joseph Grant Park,” April 17, 2011. Via Flickr. CC 2.0 license.
Inside photo 2: Hannah, “My Bulb,” May 23, 2007. Via Flickr. CC 2.0 license
Nicole Lamarche is an ordained minister in the United Church of Christ. She earned a BA from the University of Arizona and a M.Div. and MA from the Pacific School of Religion at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, CA. In 2003, she won the title of Miss California and went on to earn Fourth Runner-up at Miss America. Nicole was ordained in 2005 and began serving as a Lilly Endowed Pastoral Resident at Wellesley Congregational Church in Massachusetts. She served for three years as pastor of Cotuit Federated Church on Cape Cod before returning to the Bay Area in 2010 to serve the Congregational Church of San Mateo. She became the founding pastor of Silicon Valley Progressive Faith Community in 2014. Nicole, her husband, Jeremy, and her daughter, Eliza, have fallen in love with the greater San Jose area. A version of this article appeared orignially on the SVPFC blog.
