Weekend at Bernies and the Death of a Church

I'm going to tell you a story about the death of a church.

It's the death of the church that we love and have served. So it's personal.

About a decade ago a bunch of people from Chicago land decided to plant a church. Now Chicago isn't exactly the Bible Belt,but it is steeped in a traditional church culture. So these adventurers were looking some place a little less churchified, a little more heathen, to start a church. Someplace like Thornton, Colorado. And they were spot-on. Many of us living in North Denver are nominally christians, if that. Many, many more of us just don't see that great of a need for God in our life. These Chicagoan were up for a challenge when they decided to plant a church in a community that didn't particularly like church.

But still, they had vision to help people "find their way back to God." So they up and moved their families across the country and did, in fact, start a church. And that church did, in fact, help people find their way back to God. There was a season of life in this community. There was a season when people who would never typically darken the door of a church would be welcomed in and introduced to God. People were excited, lives were being changed.

Now church looks like Weekend at Bernie's. The few of us that remain shlep around this dead thing, and pretend it is alive. I'm not saying God is dead, or that he is no longer at work in the lives of the people in our tiny community. He is alive. We are alive. And He is at work. But I AM saying that this entity that began in the hearts of some folks from Chicago is well and truly dead.

Toast.

None of those people from Chicago are still here. They are all gone. All of them. And their vision is dead too. And this death, in this way, brings with it a cacophony of emotions.

-Relief. We're tired of carrying around a dead thing. It's hard work with little payoff.
-Deep sadness. Because it was a good dream, and it was a good thing, and people did find their way back to God. And now it's gone. Plus, we love the pastor and family who planted this church, and we know that this will hurt them. And that sucks.
- Failure. We wonder, "Could we have brought this thing back to life?" "What did we do wrong?"
-Frustration. There are those in the Thornton area who used to be part of this church, but left it. Some of them are tipsy on the sips of gossip of our failure. A In all my arrogant self-righteousness I want to shout, "We were in it for the long defeat. Sure, we made mistakes, but we inherited your mistakes as well. Who are you to feel vindicated by death?"
-Fear. What's next for us?
-Anticipation. What is next for us?
-Responsibility. How do we do this well? How do we honor what was, but not pretend it still is. How do we help those of us left to process the grief and move on to a new season in their journey?

It feels like an autopsy needs to be done. What was the cause of death? How can we determine it? It's like the guy who spends years eating donuts and then dies of a heart attack. The donuts didn't kill him exactly. But they contributed to death. And I want to look at that -not to blame or shame, but to be real. Because we need to know the donuts that compete for the vitality of a church. We need to know the poison with sprinkles.

But I don't have the energy for that yet. Not yet.