When we occasionally extract our heads from the sand we're tempted to exclaim with Dorothy Gale, "Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore." Yuk, yuk. Such clever wit and remarkable recall just goes to show just how far us church folk have landed outside the solar system of faith. Yes, indeed, change is defined by velocity these days, and more happens in the turning of our world than was even thought possible in 1939. Get out there on the mean-streets and the differences are stark, perhaps alarming. But, don't fall into a hole. The institutional church is still in Kansas, while the world is in a galaxy far away. To boot, remarkably, it is yo' mama's church, still. And, that's no compliment.
Out of curiosity more than anything, I thumbed through the annual of the Southern Baptist Convention, circa 1982, my first year in a full-time, post-seminary pastorate. The annual meeting was held in New Orleans, Louisiana, June 15,16, and 17, with 20,456 messengers registered. Of that number, 38% were under age forty, with the remaining 62% over. It is not exciting reading and therefore I didn't linger over the text too long. But, a short stroll through the proceedings sounded several alarms.
One, the convention has been shortened. Two, fewer people are attending, down to 11,641 registered messengers in 2006 (Greensboro) and 8,630 in 2007 (San Antonio). Three, the age dispersion is older. Not revelations mind you, simple, readily observable facts. Of course, convention leaders and church strategists crunch the numbers and ponder the trends. Everybody and his brother is weighing in about the sharp declines in registered messengers and the increase in average age. What gives?
Shoot, take another look at the proceedings. You could superimpose the order of business from 1982 right on top of the 2009 agenda and not miss a beat. While the world is streaking off into another star system, us Southern Baptists are lost in a black hole. We're still in Kansas. There goes contemporary culture, zoomin' forward at the speed of thought, and here we are scratching our heads, asking, "which way did they go?", Baby Huey all over again. Wake up, Christ followers. It's not yo' mama's world, but it is yo' mama's church. And the disconnect just gets wider and weirder.
Seems to me that the call for re-organization of our institutional behemoth in the Axioms of a Great Commission Resurgence is more than a critical eye on the denominational structure. Rather, it seems that a simple evaluation of how we do things may be in order, a methodological revision that casts us in a more contemporary light. I mean, no wonder younger heads are looking elsewhere for partnership and fellowship and mission. It's hard to stay out there when the bus you are riding is back there somewhere. Of a truth, you've got to get the right people on the bus. But, even more, you've got to get on the right bus.
So, heading to Louisville? The office pool is wondering how many gray haired Southern Baptists will show. I know of at least two---Frank and I, sitting in the peanut gallery ticking off the order of business bullets from the 1982 template, holding up our ballots to express our concerns, wondering why in the daylights we're still operating back there, protests to innovation, holdouts to high def digital communication. While the Who Wants to be a Millionaire contestant is polling the audience via computer networking, we're holding up our punch cards. Fugedaboudit!
Jesus said, "You have a fine way of setting aside the commands of God in order to observe your own traditions" (Mark 7:9).
Ruh roh! Reckon he was talking about us?