Theology in Unlikely Places: A Case for Deep, Rural Ministry
I never realized how influential my growing up in a rural church was until I left.
I came to know the Lord when I was seven years old and was baptized alongside my Mom in a little country church. I remember holding her hand in the water and just being so happy. I saw the crowd of people smiling and crying when we came up out of the water. Their joy for me and my family made me feel close to God. His love was made known through their laughter and tears.
We left that church a few years later, and eventually landed at another small rural church we would call home for many years. I really grew up there. I was introduced to deep biblical truths and immersed in sweet fellowship. Community was not something we had to create – it just was. I always got a card from our pastor in the mail for my birthday. When I graduated high school, the congregation got together and bought me a diamond necklace and a personalized quilt. They all cried when I got married. When my first daughter was born, they bought so many diapers that I didn’t have to purchase a box until she was a year old.
Some of the most formative years of my life were spent in the pews of that church with those people. I never felt more at home than with them. I took pages of notes during sermons. My Sunday school teacher (who was a beloved mentor and friend) bought me my first study bible. As I reflect on my life growing up rural, I can’t help but see God’s kindness in the eyes of those dear people.
Their love for God and love for me shaped my faith in ways I couldn’t yet comprehend. As a young adult I joined a new church plant with my (soon to be) husband that was still rural but a bit more contemporary. Suddenly I was not singing from a hymnal every Sunday. It was different and I needed that. I needed to see that things could be different and still be true. The people I met and came to love at that church have shaped me just as much.
But as I grow older, I’ve found that my spiritual formation is directly influenced by my rural upbringing. I could give you a list of practical (and biblical) reasons why resourcing our rural churches is important. I could offer a step by step guide for discipleship and make a strong case for bible literacy. These things are highly important, especially in small-town churches, but I don’t want to miss the people by offering a prescription. Here’s what I’ve learned in my own experience: the people in our rural communities are authentic, and if you’re going to serve them, you need to be too.
Often, we are so focused on density that we create learning environments heavy on theology but lacking in community. The key to studying doctrine is that it’s practiced best in community. I deeply believe we should teach our people to be good students of the bible. I also believe those people should love one other in a way only a family knit together by the blood of Christ can. That is the kind of love pulsing through our rural churches. The kind that sends special birthday cards and cries at your wedding and makes sure you have enough diapers to last through eternity.
“Often, we are so focused on density that we create learning environments heavy on theology but lacking in community.”
There is immense opportunity in rural communities. Rather than recreating altogether we’d be better to ask ourselves, “How can we use what’s already here and build from there?” What you’ll find in most small-town churches is a deep sense of fellowship. This is a launching pad for deep discipleship. I didn’t know I was learning theology at Wednesday night bible study. I wasn’t even sure what theology was until I was in my early twenties. But I knew God in a real way because the people who loved me knew him too.
This is why I am so passionate about discipleship in the local church. Our people should study in a way that engages both mind and heart. Sometimes it’s as simple as offering language to the things we already know to be true.
Growing up I didn’t know the word atonement, but I knew the third verse of It Is Well always made me cry. I can still hear our congregation sing it together through tears: “My sin, O the bliss of this glorious thought, My sin not in part but the whole; Is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more, Praise the Lord, Praise the Lord, O my soul!” Together we sang of the substitutionary atonement of Christ, not because we went to seminary, but because we knew it to be true in our own lives.
The church that raised me gave me more than just fellowship. They taught me the gift of hospitality at every potluck dinner. They showed lots of grace to neighborhood kids who attended vacation bible school just for the snacks. And when a beloved member of our church family passed away, they modeled how to mourn while still thanking God for our hope in future glory.
Rural churches matter because rural people matter. The theology found in every pew should be sound, of course, but not for lack of loving your neighbor. I pray for leaders and churchgoers who celebrate the diverse, unique ways to actually practice what we preach.
“Rural churches matter because rural people matter.”
