You can count on it: sometime on any given Saturday night and straight on into Sunday morning, a very particular kind of pastoral post appears on most Christians’ social media feeds. I can see them now:
“It’s the Lord’s Day! Kick the devil in the nose and come to church!”
Or, more directly: “All right, Christians! Tomorrow is Sunday! Be in your place!”
Or perhaps the manufactured enthusiasm version: “I’m so excited for Sunday! It’s going to be a great day! You don’t want to miss today! You’d be crazy not to be here! Whoo-hooooo!”
Or maybe you’re more acquainted with the slightly more austere approach: A simple posting of a Scripture verse such as Acts 2:42 or Hebrews 10:25.
These kind of exhortations to be faithful to church are multitudinous and multifarious, and they’re surely well-intentioned. Too, if you were to scroll back far enough in my social media feed, you’d eventually find quite a few of them authored by my own hand, as well.1
But I don’t do that anymore. Here’s exactly why.
time for a food illustration
Let’s say you’re 10 or so years old, growing up in a house with your siblings, and it’s a Saturday morning. Your mother has once again prepared a delicious meal for your breakfast — let’s say French Toast. Or better yet, Biscuits & Gravy (somehow the ampersand is necessary for that dish. Can’t tell you why. Don’t know why. But it is). Now — once she lets the kiddos know the food is ready, what else do you think she has to do? Nothing, really. The kids with an appetite will be there. Even on a more rudimentary level, the kids who know they need food will be there. There’s really nothing most moms have to do to entice children with something they love and need.
But what about the kids who aren’t there? Should they be called for, time and time again? Guilt-tripped? Manipulated? Lambasted on social media? Hollered at over and over in hopes to get them to the table somehow? No. If they’re generally healthy and hungry kids, then they’re not there either because they’re not feeling well or because of other factors worth investigating. Maybe they’ve been eating sugar beforehand. Or maybe they’re distracted by the T.V. or video games, or whatever other Saturday morning routine they have. All very real possibilities, and all things we’ve experienced as parents in my own home.
But the one thing of which you can be sure — you don’t have to cajole growing, healthy children into eating cartoonishly-exaggerated amounts of food. Most parents’ stifled sobs at the grocery store as they open their wallets should suffice as all the evidence I need to support this point.
The point clear, the blog entry short
It’s very much the same with church, at least in my mind. If Christians love the gathering of the saints, the preaching of the Scriptures, the singing of the hymns and songs, the fellowship and friendships, then you don’t have to drag them there and remind them over and over again. That seems to me more a control tactic borne of insecurity than anything else, to be frank. I should know — I already confessed to you that I’ve written enough of these things to fill a small book.
Sure, there could be problems. Maybe, to keep in step with the illustration, there’s a Christian who isn’t pulling up to the table because they’re sick. Or maybe they don’t have a spiritual appetite or they’ve been indulging in the “sugar” of the world a bit too much and ruining their desire for spiritual things. Or they could be distracted by the ball game or perhaps stayed up way too late the previous night and that snooze button is just too tempting to not hit again and again and…well. You get the point. These are all real possibilities.
But are we really under the impression that a fleeting Facebook post or Tweet is the best way to handle this pastorally? Are we truly persuaded that this shotgun-style “hey, it’s Sunday! Be here or be in sin!” (however subtle or not it may be) is the best approach? What about actually reaching out to the people you (likely) have in mind when you post that? What about a call or a text to those who might be absent instead of a wide-range carpet-bomb of well-meant but poorly-delivered goadings to be faithful to a church meeting? Don’t you think there’s likely an underlying problem that’s probably not going to be resolved by a social media blurb? I do.
Then there’s the following possibility as well.
(In my best columbo voice) One last thing…
Going back to the mealtime example: What if the food is awful? What if it’s poorly prepared? What if it’s not nourishing and the children are secretly eating copious amounts of Nutri-Grain bars they’ve stashed in the couch cushions in order to sustain themselves? Then that’s a problem in the kitchen. That’s something the chef needs to resolve, and certainly not by blaming the children.
It would take humility, effort, and courage to find out what’s going wrong in the kitchen to make sure mealtime is healthy and delicious for anyone with an appetite. It would take diligence, research, and innovation to improve the meals and maybe even the surroundings of the dining room. And it takes time, energy, and sacrifice to check on each person individually who isn’t coming to eat.
But, you see, those things are harder than simply posting a Facebook post. They take more resources than many pastors are willing to spend. And so what we find is that, in an odd twist of irony, the very same laziness that’s meant to be confronted and challenged by some of these social media posts is often found in the heart of the pastor crafting the post.
So I suppose I have an exhortation of my own to digitally deliver: Don’t pastor by posting. Deploy your gentle reminders and loving confrontations in private, and personally, rather than in public print. Have conversations and discover what’s really going on. I suspect much more would be accomplished, both for the pastor and the parishioner, if this were to take place instead.
- Yes, you can begin a sentence with the word “too.” It’s what all the cool kids are doing. Everyone should do it. https://stancarey.wordpress.com/2011/12/01/too-its-a-strange-usage/ ↩︎
