Why I Love the Rural Church

Another school year begins at Duke Divinity School next week -- my third of four years in the M.Div. program. One of the things I most look forward to every August is the addition of an important entry on my student account statement -- one that reads "Rural Ministry Fellowship," followed by a large four-digit dollar figure. That is thanks to the Thriving Rural Communities Initiative of the Duke Endowment, the organization that covers the full cost of my tuition. James B. Duke set up this endowment in 1924 to benefit four main areas of emphasis in North and South Carolina. Rural United Methodist Churches are one of those beneficiaries. My commitment to the Endowment's TRCI program is to serve in a rural UM church after I complete my degree.

Why would I want to serve a rural church? Because I love the rural church. Why is that? For the same reason that I love my parents. I was born and raised in a rural church in western Pennsylvania. That's where I learned to live in a Christian community. At Sheakleyville UMC I was taught to read the scriptures, pray, and sing hymns in a congregation that rarely had a Sunday attendance of over 50 people. It was there that I first felt the call to cross-cultural ministry, and it was that group of people who affirmed my calling to ordination as a pastor. I'm not sentimental or naïve -- small churches certainly have their share of problems. But I love this church in spite of its imperfections.

I also love the rural church because I love the church, period. Rural churches are not just important for their collective historical value. These are congregations that constitute the actual living church of Jesus Christ. They aren't primarily sentimental curiosities or problems to be solved. Every Sunday millions of people gather at small churches to pray, ask for forgiveness, take Communion, and baptize new members into their fellowship. Most rural churches are small, and when they are at their best small churches care for everyone in the congregation. Carl Dudley describes this work of the small church as the "single caring cell." (See his book Effective Small Churches in the Twenty-first Century.) Everyone knows everyone else in a small church, and this is both a strength and a weakness. It's a strength because members enjoy a high sense of belonging. But it can be a weakness when the small cell of members becomes afraid to adopt new members for fear of growing beyond its capacity to care for everyone. Check out Dudley's book to read how this desire for togetherness defines much of what happens in a small congregation.

Thankfully, I don't have to wait to serve a rural church sometime down the road. I am already the pastor of two great churches. I can't wait to worship with them again on Sunday.