(This week’s blog is written by request from The Rev. Bronwyn Corlett, Rural Ministry Coordinator, Growth Department, Organizational Development and Strategy The United Church of Canada)

Then Saul dressed David in his own tunic. He put a coat of armor on him and a bronze helmet on his head. David fastened on his sword over the tunic and tried walking around, because he was not used to them. “I cannot go in these,” he said to Saul, “because I am not used to them.” So he took them off. Then he took his staff in his hand, chose five smooth stones from the stream, put them in the pouch of his shepherd’s bag and, with his sling in his hand, approached the Philistine. (1 Samuel 17: 38-40)

I first recognized my call to Ministry when I was asked to serve as Student Supply at Millen’s Bay Union Church in upstate New York,  just over the bridge spanning the St. Lawrence River.  I live on the Canadian side of the river, and the drive to Millen’s Bay was just over a half hour.  This little white church was only open in the summer, had no plumbing or electricity and the organ was an old pump organ that was capably played by a neighbour.  I had very little ministry experience at this point, virtually no experience in rural ministry, and at first I was daunted by the idea that I had to drive a half hour, navigate a border crossing, find a washroom at the nearby gas station before worship and then go lead an ecumenical worship service with a congregation that changed every week and seemed to know far more about what they were doing than I did.

My first few worship services with them were stressful and I doubted my call to ministry more than I ever had before.  Finally one Sunday, one of the ‘regulars’ stopped me after worship, said “You’re really doing a good job, Lynne.  Can I ask you about one of your points?” And I realized in that moment that people were listening to me, cared about what I was saying, and valued what I was doing; as green as I was.  The summer went on and some Sundays I preached to only a handful of people, and some Sundays the church was full.  But every Sunday I left with a ton of affirmation, a ton of care and support, and gentle direction from the congregation and the Holy Spirit that where I was going and who I was valuable and honored in their eyes and God’s eyes.

That was the summer that I recognized that the ministry that I was called to was highly community-driven and relational.  I believed that God was calling me to places where I knew everyone’s name, and they knew mine.  Places where connection to each other was nurtured so that they were all energized to go into God’s world in love, justice and peace.  Places that were humble, but marked by joy and community; where sharing a meal with each other is considered as sacred as worship, and gathering happened simply because everyone wanted to be with each other, not because there was something ‘special’ going on.

Actually, I think that this gathering is the ‘special’ that’s going on.

Since that summer as a student, I have continued to serve in rural and small pastoral charges.  Each of them with their own unique characteristics, but with the shared sense that they are family and community, that gathering together is sacred, and that service to the world comes out of this place of community.  I love this so much, and week after week I feel honored and upheld in the ministry I’m called to.  Except….

Except when I do wider church activities.

There’s still this embedded belief in the United Church that ‘bigger is better’ and that programs are what are funded and supported.  I am often asked if I am considering applying for bigger churches in urban centres, as if my ministry is only a stepping stone to something more prestigious.  Colleagues casually ask what programs and activities that I’m initiating, rather than how much disciple-making and community building I’m involved in.  Programs are uplifted over relationships.  And service is expected to happen in epic ways rather than little pond ripples that slowly affect the shorelines of our lives.

And yet, the church that I serve is thriving.  We are holding our own in terms of managing a budget.  Our building is modest, but its ‘right sized’ for the 40 or so I have in worship every Sunday.  We receive between 8 and 10 new members a year; which is more than the funerals I do each year.  I can look out in the congregation every Sunday, know who is there and who isn’t and WHY they’re there, or not.  And every week when I go into the church to work I know that I can raid the fridge if I’ve forgotten my lunch because someone has left something there as a treat.  Or that stacked on my desk chair are articles and books that people thought I might like; and some of them are just mysteries for my entertainment.  I also know who’s putting the coffee on for the group in the afternoon, or who is opening the upcoming UCW meeting.  I know that if there’s a repair needed in the kitchen who I can call and that it’ll be done by the next day.  I even know who to call when the mousetraps are full and that’s where the limits of my “other duties assigned” ends.

Rural ministry is a beautiful and wondrous place where the sacred and community collide.  It’s not a place that’s ‘like’ urban ministries.  But the gifts that it offers are immense.  And largely unrecognized.

But just like David had to take off Saul’s armor and expectations, and use what he knew to defeat the giant, I believe that Rural and Small Churches, and their leaders, need to take of the expectations and ‘programs’ given to us by urban planners, and take what we know is best for us.  Because this is the place where the Giants of our church can be defeated; the giants of secularization and decline in church adherence.  The Giants of preference of urban consolidation and programming for ‘large’ input.  And the humble small and rural churches that are decentralized and scattered across our nation can take their small stones from the streams in their backyard, the slingshots that they have used and understand, and save our church in God’s name.

Blessings today, my friends, and remember you are Loved

~ Rev. Lynne