I went to another church last night, one that I am not a part of, one that exists in the evening in the city of New Orleans. I came away speechless and, well, sleepless.
The church, which I gladly recommend to anyone, is call Vintage, and they have everything completely down pat. Worship music? Wonderful. Hospitality? Exceptional. Preaching? Very good, with a tip of rambling at the end that kept it from being exceptional as well. You name it, they did it well, in my visitor's opinion.
And the kicker? They were all (and I mean all) very, very young. They were what my church, my church start wants to be.
I pray, I really really pray, that one day we will match the music, the set-up, the musicians, the hospitality, even the preaching, but we can't match one thing. Ever. And the thought hit me square in the head that is what we can't be. No matter how I try to put the genie back in the bottle, I'm old. Period. And my co-pastor is no spring chicken either. We have the enthusiasm and the gift of a 29-year-old music director, but there are few 29 year olds staring back at her, either.
And I belong to a non-select crew.
I read Friday that the the median age of elders in the denomination I have landed increased to 56 in 2014, the highest in history. I'm five-years older that the MEDIAN age. The median age, for those of us of an age that renders school something close to the Model A Ford of memories, is the one in the middle, meaning there are equal numbers higher and lower.
Imagine. There are equal numbers higher than 56 in elderdom. That's rather staggering, to me. Throw in this, from the Lewis Center for Leadership: The number of active elders shrunk by 6,123 while the number of local pastors grew by more than 3,459. In 1990, the study showed, there were more than five elders for each local pastor; today there are two elders for each local pastor. Elders between ages 55 and 72 comprise 55 percent of all active elders. In the year 2000, the median age was 50. It went up SIX years in 14.
The average age remains 53, unchanged in five years. The mode age (the single age most represented) remains at 61. Those elders under the age of 35 remained constant.
What does it all mean? I pray for the sake of the body of Christ that it means little. I worry, suspect, think it might mean quite a bit, however, to the denomination I find myself in.
The truth is as church after church shrinks, many can't pay elders what their salaries are sure to be. They can't successfully pay their pension and health, either. So, the first thing that happens is a local pastor, like myself, is sent in because we make less. That helps for a while. Then the church shrinks some more because most of those churches were indeed older churches and in older congregations people die (shocker there). Sooner of later the full-time local pastor becomes another part-time local pastor. The church nears death, till it actually die.
That cycle is harsh. But it happens.
Unless it doesn't. And the way it doesn't is through the blessings of God himself, who can still breathe life into even dry, dead bones.
I can't be younger. None of these elders or local pastors who are older can be. And if no one is going into the ministry to replace them, what do we have left? I suspect we have a stronger need to lean on laity, which is where ministry has always lain even if we failed to recognize that.
The answer is we're all in this together. God, the called clergy who answer no matter their age, and the body. We all have a role. What we need to do is, uh, do our role.
That keeps me young.
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