Mountain View Mennonite, with 300 people in regular attendance, is over seven times bigger than the church where I grew up, which used to average around 40. Although I love many things about Mountain View, it’s been hard for me to adjust to its bigness. I entered with the spirit of a small church girl, talking enthusiastically to everyone I met every Sunday (except for the moments I felt too shy), excited about getting to know each person. I spent time pouring over the church calendar with Ivan, learning the names of the adults at least, and most of the children—he didn’t know quite everyone. I worked at figuring out the gaps and made lists in my notebook of who belonged to which family.
Learning the names of everyone in my very large church family still feels important to me. But after a while, I realized I could never get to know everyone and feel a part of everything, no matter how hard I tried. Ivan and I were about as far at the edge of the loop as the outer peel of an orange or an onion. If there was any news, it seemed like we were the last to hear it. As a preacher’s daughter and part of one of the main families that made up the church of my birth, this was particularly hard to accept. I’d always heard all the news, and was one of the first.
But of course, a big church isn’t like a small church in that regard, anyway. Mountain View does have many interconnected families that have been there for generations. Ivan and I don’t have as many family connections as some, and living a 45 minute drive from the church building and most church events adds an element of distance as well. But even the most involved member of the congregation won’t know everything about everyone. After we were married, people would still sometimes ask Ivan what he was doing now for a job and have him placed back about ten years, when he was custom chopping, or twenty years, when he was milking cows with his dad. That would never happen in a small church, where everyone knows what everyone does for a job and very possibly their financial situation and dreams for the future.
Ivan and I aren’t a part of the core of the church, but maybe nobody is completely because a big church isn’t like a small church. There are no concentric circles; there are many pools widening, and you can’t be in them all.
So my small church spirit withered and died and I spent more time sitting on a bench or in a back corner watching people, or hiding in the baby room, wishing some one of the many people hurrying past really REALLY cared about me and didn’t have that “Hi how are you doing, I’m in a hurry to get home to Sunday lunch with my really great family,” look in their eye.
That isn’t to say that many people haven’t cared and reached out to me, because many people have. Susie who invited me into her heart and her circle of friends. Kates who always seems to sense when I am discouraged or lonely and gives me hugs and encouragement. Dave and Beck who ask how Turtle Heart is doing and how many books I’ve sold, as though they have a right to know, as though this is our book, our project, and they have a vested interest. Grandpa Bob who holds Annalise after church whenever he gets a chance and calls her his granddaughter.
The people here are warm and accepting. I only get discouraged because weeks might pass in the space between seeing one person or another whom I’ve begun to feel connected to, and in the weeks, a distance grows. But you COULDN’T talk to everyone every week; that would feel overwhelming. And so I skip from pool to pool, trying to feel a part of everything and feeling a part of nothing. But by this time, two and a half years in, I have realized that I can’t create the same one family feel I had in a small church; a big church is just different. But I can still find connection here, for all that.
There are good things a big church has that a small church doesn’t. Multiple funds to support multiple missionaries. Rich spiritual food from a wide variety of ministers. The opportunity to serve when you feel able in the capacities you feel able, not just because you are needed and somebody has to (although I believe there are strengths in that model as well, that people discover things about their talents and abilities when they are needed). But people get worn out in a small church. They get stuck in a rut of sameness and familiarity. A large church has a wider range of ministry possibilities, a bubbling stockpot of new ideas, and always fresh people to serve. And there are things I love about Mountain View, separate from its bigness, that are part of the culture of the church. I love this congregation for its openness, its acceptance of differences, how everyone is given opportunity to share during the service and how the sharing is made safe and open and free of critical judgment.
Anyway, the other Sunday, I was sitting on a bench talking to two ladies and told them how hungry I was and how we didn’t have any snacks in the car. “I don’t know how I’ll wait until we get home,” I said, dramatically. It’s a 45-minute drive, after all, and since Ivan runs sound, we are always one of the last to leave.
They both chuckled and then Jean remembered that she happened to have a crockpot of beans sitting down the basement which she had brought along to take to the place they were visiting for lunch. “You can have some,” she said.
“No, that’s okay, I’ll be fine.”
“No really, you should have some if you want.”
I thought to myself that the tiny headache niggling at the base of my brain might get better if I fed it, so I followed her down to the basement and we found a Styrofoam bowl and a plastic spoon stashed away in the cupboard. With the plastic spoon, I scooped beans with hamburger and spicy sauce from her Crockpot and ate them standing in the kitchen with Annalise in one arm and the bowl in the other, feeding a bean every now and then to Annalise and trying to hurry because Ivan had left the corner sound booth, and I thought he was probably ready to leave. The beans were delicious. And it was a fun, homey moment, like one of the moments I would have had at the church I left—one of those moments I am always seeking, a feeling of familiarity, like we are friends, and we like each other, and we don’t mind sharing beans with each other in Styrofoam bowls. It’s just what we do, and perfectly normal–of course you can have some. And of course, you can stop by my house and help yourself to food from my fridge and of course you won’t mind that the cereal boxes are still on the table from breakfast–your cereal boxes are probably still on the table, too. That is the familiar feeling I reached for, standing in the kitchen eating beans.
It was a small church moment in my new very big church.
***
Photo by Skull Kat on Unsplash
I enjoyed this story tremendously. Your descriptions of moving from a small church to a big one sound a lot like my experience when I came to Southern Ontario from Northern Wisconsin years ago.
One phrase in your account reached out its arms of nostalgia and wrapped me in a homey embrace, just because it’s the exact way we used to say it – that something was “down the basement”.
I didn’t even think about it, so I guess my northern Wisconsin roots are showing. :)
I love this story too and understand your feelings. I have never been part of a 300 member church–my experiences ranged from 40 to maybe 200 at most. Yay to the lady who shared her beans!! Sounds like a parable Jesus would tell. I get headachy too (like my mom) if I go too long between meals.
I enjoyed attending your church with you once, Melodie. :) Good to hear from you.
Yes, so glad that worked out! On the topic of big church/little church, I’m quite amazed you have such a large conservative church 45 minutes away. And quite a drive for you.
Yes, Mountain View has an interesting background and unique characteristics. Ask me next time I see you and I will tell you about it.
This resonates with me. 10 1/2 yrs ago I left my smallish church and moved 13 hr to my husband’s area and church. Big and full of strangers. But many of them I count friends today. As life goes, we’re now part of a small city church but live rural. So there is a bit of disconnect there. Sometimes I still miss the deep roots of my growing up years and those relationships still matter to me.
I’m on the flip side of that… (First of all, trying not to be jealous that you get to live in my hometown and I don’t. 😀 ) My siblings and I went to Mt. View with that long drive and the big church feel. Now I’m in the small church, which actually started off in a living room, 15+ years ago. I really understand your feelings of wanting to connect, and the struggle to do so. Each church and situation is different, but the same Spirit can help us, whether we’re struggling to connect, or feeling burned out from having to help with everything. (And if you’re at Andrea’s wedding, I might slip my copy of Turtle Heart along for an autograph. 😊) I’d love to chat with you!
I plan to be there! And absolutely, I’ll look forward to it. :)
“As a preacher’s daughter and part of one of the main families that made up the church of my birth…”
This is the part I connected with so much! Probably every preacher’s family/ main families in the church should have the experience of being a “nobody” for awhile. It definitely gives you a very different perspective!
Yes! There is definitely a lot of security in that position I took for granted.
Fun!
My wife and I and our year-old son had moved from our small church in Alabama to where her parents lived in PA, so of course we attended their big church. We tried to join the choir, but we seemed to be the last to know that choir practice was 30 minutes early one week and we had missed half of it, or that it had been canceled that evening, and the only ones not to know were the two of us.
I remember that conversation of frustration, in which we discussed either leaning-in to that church or moving on to another. We decided to lean-in and eventually made that church our home.
If I were to offer counsel, it would be that it takes longer to understand a big church, how to feel comfortable moving through a group of 100 or more, deciding when to stop and talk and when to move on out the door. Eventually, Annalise will become a “child of the church” at Mountain View as you were at home in your church in Wisconsin. Let God work in His time. Have patience. It will happen.
As you wrote, “That is the familiar feeling I reached for, standing in the kitchen eating beans”.
What a great way to end a story! You are gifted as a writer, skilled as a writer, but also tenacious as a writer. For these qualities, as well as others not mentioned here, you have an appreciative readership. But, as my mom would say, “Iss dich net voll”. (Don’t fill yourself up.)
Thank you Brendan. I always appreciate your insights and perspective. And now I have a new Dutch phrase to add to my list. :)
I love this post. I’m in the midst of my own transition from a small to larger church community, and can identify with most of what you wrote here. I’ve decided there are pros and cons to both sizes. Keep leaning in! ( I need to preach that to myself just now.)