By Ed Thompson
I recently started reading Think Again: The Power of Knowing What You Don’t Know by Adam Grant, a professor at the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania. I’m only a couple of chapters in, but it seems his main point is that we need to be willing to admit that we might be wrong, that many – or at least some – of the things that we believe no longer hold true. He says that we often act like a preacher, a politician, or a prosecutor when we need to act like a scientist.
Not that there’s anything wrong with being a preacher; after all, that’s been my chosen profession, my calling, how I’ve thought of myself for most of my life. However, Grant observes that when one of our deeply held beliefs is challenged or questioned, we often try to teach or encourage someone to adopt our views (like a preacher), we try to argue or debate to persuade someone to adopt our views (like a politician), or we challenge or question the person who has challenged or questioned us (like a prosecutor). Instead, we need to step back and examine what’s actually happening, measure the results, and be more objective, like a scientist. Admittedly, it’s more complicated than that (and Grant does a better job making his point than my attempted summary of his work), but in his view, a scientist is concerned more about discovering whether something is true or not rather than proving what they already think is true.
I need to finish the book, but I’m already convinced that Grant is on to something. Although I’m doubtful that he’s going to talk much – if at all – about the church (after all, he’s based in a business school and that seems to be his main audience), we need to face the truth: he’s talking about us too. Think about how much the world has changed since March 2020. Yes, the church has changed since then – and good for us, we needed to change – yet how much time and energy have we spent worrying about and trying to return to those good old days? Are we willing to admit that we might be wrong? Are we willing to admit that many – or at least some – of the groups and programs we used to have are no longer necessary and no longer worth trying to preserve? Maybe some are still useful, but rather than holding on to the past, can we at least consider how we might measure their effectiveness?
I can think of at least two examples. I hear many people moaning that people haven’t returned to worshipping in person and urging that we need to do all we can to make that happen. I think in-person worship is important. However, I think an appropriate comparison might be to in-person music. I think listening to music in person is better than listening to music on the radio or music from a CD, cassette, or vinyl record. That doesn’t mean that we can’t enjoy or appreciate music in those formats. Nor does it mean we should throw away our CDs, cassettes, and vinyl records (well, a legitimate argument can be made that I need to get rid of the vinyl records that are gathering dust in the storage room off my garage and which I probably haven’t listened to in more than 40 years) or refuse to listen to music on the radio and only attend live concerts. In a similar way, in-person worship is better, but that doesn’t mean we should stop livestreaming our worship or posting our services on Facebook or our church’s YouTube channel. Yes, we need to look at the numbers objectively, but if we’re allowing our shut-ins and nursing home residents to experience worship, if we’re reaching more people, if we’re giving people who used to be connected to the church, people who have to work or who have chosen to do other things on Sunday mornings (whether we happen to agree with their choices or not) a way to connect with and participate in the life of our congregation, why should we stop providing that option? Maybe we should invest time and money making online worship a better experience for people. Maybe more people would listen/watch if there was better sound and they could see more than just a talking head.
For that matter, maybe we should consider whether worship should be and needs to be where we spend most of our time and effort. Pastors spend a lot of time preparing sermons. Maybe they should be spending more time working in the community, reaching out to different groups, volunteering at the local school and limit their worship preparation to 3-4 hours a week. Rather than having a part-time pastor, maybe a church should consider hiring a social worker or sponsoring a community nurse. Instead of paying for pulpit supply, maybe a church could arrange to livestream the worship service of another church or play the recording of a good sermon. We need to think about what will please God and what will have the greatest impact on our community.
Another example, instead of focusing on keeping – and paying for the maintenance of – our own building, which is often older and has far more space than we currently need or use, maybe it would be better stewardship to sell the building and rent a smaller, more accessible space or make arrangements to worship in the building of another church (which probably also has more space than they need or use) or even worship in the home of one of the members. If you have less than 10 people in worship, I suspect that many, if not most, of your church members will have homes that can accommodate that many people.
We don’t have to keep doing things the way we have always done them. I’m sure Adam Grant will have more insights in the remainder of his book. I’ve already been convicted by what he’s said in the first few chapters, even though he’s not intentionally talking about the church.