“I don’t go to church but, if I did, yours would be the one that I would visit.”

This is a phrase I’ve been honored to hear many times over the years that I’ve served as a senior pastor. Even more than hearing it, every person who has said it has followed it up by sitting in a pew in our Sanctuary at least once since I met them.

Why is this?

Is it because of some robust evangelism plan? Is it because of a gleaming revival tent on the lawn? Is it because of the best Vacation Bible School attendance in church history?

No. In the modern era of the local church you don’t hear statements like this because of programming. You don’t have visitors because you’re trying to fill the pews of your Sanctuary.

You experience these things because of presence and relationship.

Years ago, when my family moved for me to become a senior pastor, I had just transitioned from a decade of campus ministry. I had spent those years walking the path of life and faith with many young adults that had felt like Christ loved them but Christ’s Church had no place for them. They were burned, they were hurt, and they were done. It is because of these experiences that I committed to being present outside of the church as much as inside of it as a senior pastor.

This commitment has led me to festivals, breweries, antique-shops-turned-watering-holes, movie theaters, and even a water slide set up in someone’s backyard to celebrate a birthday. It has given me some of the best friendships of my adult life and some of the greatest experiences of sharing Christ through just being me that I have ever seen.

Such relationship building for ministers always comes with a price. The ministers of my generation stand in the shadow of those that came before–– ministers who appeared to not live life outside of their church spaces. Such shadows were not cast in an attempt for piousness but, in most cases, because of fear. Fear of congregational reprimand, fear of judgement, or fear of firing.

Having worked with those young adults who’d been hurt by the church for wanting it to be like Jesus, I entered my ministry as a senior pastor hoping to not cast the same shadow cast upon me. I wanted those outside the church to know the fullness of the love of Christ found in living side-by-side and not on the outside. I wanted those I met to know that this senior pastor was not one who was going to be locked in the safety of his office, but one that was willing to serve in the congregation and be a neighbor to the community outside of it.

Doing this has netted some judgement, for sure, but it has also seen some moments of beautiful relationship that only has come from presence. My goal has never been to fill a pew, but instead to build a relationship that shows belovedness to someone who has been led to believe they are not worthy of it.

Building such relationships has led to visitors in our congregation that would never have darkened the door of a church–– much-less a Baptist one. It has led to some wanting to know Christ on a deeper level once they knew he loved them no matter what they’d experienced in a church using his name.

However, more than that, it has led to Christ-like relationships around tables, in ‘marketplaces,’ and in homes–– you know, like places where Jesus built relationships. It has led to being recognized as the Baptist pastor around town and not having people walk the other way when they see me.

This type of ministry is the kind that anyone can do because it’s about just being yourself. It’s not letting walls be built between you and your neighbors. It’s loving your neighbor as you are yourself (which is a type of love for self too!).

As congregations continue to decline where people don’t see value in the community, it is critical that Christians–– and pastors–– step out of the shadows and let people know that they are loved, they are beloved, and they have a place at the table of Christ.

Be yourself. Love where you are. Get to know your neighbors.

Who knows, in doing so you might even build the church.