We are a denomination of small churches, many of which are located in rural areas. There are statistics upon statistics that document these truths. There are congregations where it literally is two or three gathered on any given Sunday. There are Presbyterian communities of faith where there is always someone related to someone else on session because it would be impossible to have a session otherwise. There are churches located on roads that share the church’s name because the church was the first thing built and the only building there for years. Like the saints of Galatia, Corinth and Philippi, many of these congregations think of themselves as family (in part, because a lot of them are), meet for worship and Bible study and gave alms to help the needy.
Like the saints of Galatia, Corinth and Philippi, the saints of our small congregations are being used by God to witness to the world what it means to love one another as Christ loves us. I know churches of every size have their challenges — and, yes, their dysfunctions — but I want to lift up the gift that small congregations can be and certainly have been to me. I want in particular to give thanks for the small, rural congregation that raised me and the one that taught me how to be a pastor.
To the saints of Mt. Gilead: I thank God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you. I am con dent that without your welcome of me when I moved from a Canadian city to a small, Southern town, I would have been completely unmoored. You provided a sanctuary for me and not just on Sunday morning. You let me sing in the adult choir because that was the only choir. I couldn’t sing. You didn’t care. You kept up with me in college. You cared about me when I didn’t care about the church. You claimed me when I went to seminary, didn’t abandon me when I questioned my call (for not months but years) and threw a party in the fellowship hall the day I was ordained. You are the saints who taught me what covenant community looks like.
To the saints of Tirzah: I give thanks for my God always for you because of the grace of God that has been given you in Christ Jesus. When I came to you I was green around the edges. I’d been an associate pastor, but this preaching every week was new, as was moderating meetings on my own and being the sole provider of pastoral care. You called me anyway. You said “yes” to whatever idea du jour I thought we should try. Communion every month. Yes. Moving the pulpit to the side to make rooms for the kids to gather on the chancel. Yes. Intergenerational VBS. Yes. It was ne with you when my toddler ran barefoot down the aisle and clung to my leg during the sermon. You loved my children like they were your own. They still remember. One of you would gently tell me when someone needed a visit. Another of you emphatically told a member of the community that, woman or not, I was very much a minister and I was her pastor. You are the saints who turned me from a preacher into a pastor and I love you for it.
We are a denomination of small churches. People might say that some of them are in the middle of nowhere. I would say that the ones I’ve been blessed to know stand on holy ground. We are a denomination of small churches and, not unlike the communities at Galatia and Corinth and Philippi, those small groups of gathered Christians are the saints through whom God is working to bear witness to the world what it means to be the Body of Christ.
To the saints in all of those places: Peace be to the whole community, and love with faith, from God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Grace be with all who have an undying love for our Lord Jesus Christ.
Grace and peace,
Jill
