My Dad is not a city person. He is the child of missionaries and a career parish pastor who served in several Pennsylvania small towns and rural communities. Those towns are still too small to support a church according to ELCA experts, but they always supported us.
Retired for the last 20 years, Dad now divides his time between his children. He takes his frequent visits to Philadelphia in stride, despite some measure of culture shock. I was with him in the small towns until I was about 23. Since then, I have lived the rest and majority of my life in cities. I remember my previous “country” life and am aware of differing city ways, which I, too, had to learn. My city-born husband used to scold me for talking to strangers. Today I was reminded of where I got that terrible habit.
My Dad doesn’t know the rules of city life. If he did he wouldn’t care. He talks to everyone he passes. Sometimes people are receptive. Sometimes I catch a look of suspicion in their eyes. More often than not, he is ignored. I explain to him that city people protect their space. He pays no mind.
Today, he accompanied me to the grocery store. As I ordered some cold cuts he attempted to strike up a conversation with the person holding the customer number after mine. I noticed the woman looking at him suspiciously as if his kindness was an intrusion. Her face said, “Who is this old guy and what does he want from me?” Dad didn’t seem to notice, so I caught her eye and made light. “He’s harmless,” I said. “He’s my dad, an old preacher. He talks to everyone.”
She processed this for a second or two. She looked angry. My dad continued to talk to her as if I’d said nothing. Suddenly, she let down her guard and responded. They had a short conversation. I breathed a little easier as I waited for my pound of provolone. As I turned to leave, she commented to me, “This world needs more people like that. It needs them very bad.”
She may be right.
Our Ambassador visits reveal that many pastors lack my dad’s skill in striking up conversations. Some disappear after church. Some go off to a corner to talk to one person—probably a council member. Few show any inclination to circulate among either members or visitors. Have they adopted city ways? Are they living in their own worlds? Does the work of the church trump fellowship? Do they think someone else is going to do the work of evangelism? Are they afraid to tell the Story? Are they too good to talk to strangers? Are they unaware that the entire congregation follows their lead?
I don’t know the answers. But I suspect that talking to people is more likely to grow a church than not.