One Sunday morning last summer I went to a parish church which was full of worshippers, both young and old. To my amazement nobody spoke to me. In one sense that did not matter because I am a regular churchgoer. But what if this had been my first time in a Christian church? That would have been dreadful and might have resulted in the visitor saying to himself (or herself) I will never go again to church.
This reminded me of an occasion when we were missionaries in the so-called Democratic Republic of Congo. I had been invited to lecture in an Anglican theological college in Limuru, Kenya. Our hosts offered to look after our children so that we could worship on the Sunday at Nairobi Baptist Church. This was to be our first experience of an English-speaking church for over eighteen months. We so much looked forward to being part of this large thriving congregation. Alas, our visit proved to be a massive letdown. The worship was great, the sermon was good, but the welcome was non-existent. Everybody was talking to their friends, but no one talked to us, neither before or after the service. That was a salutary experience. I resolved that whatever churches I pastored in the future, they would be churches where everybody was made to feel well and truly welcome.
My first church was in Altrincham, on the south side of Manchester, where I was the minister of Altrincham Baptist Church. As people entered the church, they were welcomed and shown to their seats, where they were introduced to people sitting near to them. After the service they were invited to stay for coffee or tea, where other church members talked to them.
My second church was in Chelmsford, Essex. After our experience in Nairobi, I was determined we would be a church where everybody was made to feel welcome. As part of that welcome twenty minutes before the beginning of each of three Sunday services I would stand at the door as people came in – and then stand at the door as people went out. In our redeveloped building we ensured that there was only one way in and only one way out. As a pastor I saw myself as the “gatekeeper” (John 10.2). I encouraged visitors to fill in welcome cards, in which we provided space not only for names and contact details, but also feedback on their experience of church. To ensure cards were filled in, we offered a free pen – inscribed with the church’s name and website address – to all who returned a card. This was more than a one-man welcome. The whole church was welcoming. The first value we set ourselves as a church was to be “warm and welcoming”. We wanted to a welcoming spirit to be written into our church DNA. We adopted a strapline: “Central Baptist Church, Chelmsford – a place to belong”.
Later I wrote:
In a world where many are lonely, we offer friendship. In a world where many long for community, we offer fellowship. In a world where many feel without worth, we offer affirmation. We want to be a church where love is real – tangible – and all-inclusive. Here all are welcome – children and young people, young singles and young couples, people in mid-life and seniors too. We want to be a genuinely multicultural church – where internationals find a special welcome. We want to be a church where people, looking for love, wanting love, needing love, find love. We want people to discover God’s amazing love for each one of us as a result of experiencing God’s love amongst us.
As part of that welcome I constantly talked about the importance of knowing one another by name. The Good Shepherd “calls his own sheep by name” (John 10.3) and so too should we. To greet a person by name shows that they have value. I encouraged people to learn one new name a Sunday. One Sunday a term, morning, afternoon and evening, was ‘Name Tag Sunday’, when everybody had to wear a name label. To those who said they did not have a memory for names, they were saying in effect, “I can’t be bothered, I’m too lazy”. I used to draw attention to Americans, who always seem to know one another’s names, not because they are cleverer than the British, but because in their society it is impolite not to know someone’s name.
Now since I retired at the age of 70, Caroline and I move to Chelmsford Cathedral. To my delight everybody receives a welcome and is invited to stay after the service for coffee or tea. What’s more, during the service there is the so-called ‘giving of the Peace’, which provides an opportunity for people to introduce themselves to newcomers. As a result it is almost impossible for visitors not to be well and truly welcomed.
Welcoming newcomers is most important.
This is such an important issue. Although there will always be some who prefer to remain anonymous and escape quickly after the service (my own father being one of them!), I strongly believe that most want to be welcomed and valued, exactly as you say Paul. Having attended some big student churches where I was left standing alone whilst a lunch (or similar event) was being prepared, I can still remember feeling acutely embarrassed and wishing that I could temporarily slip between the floor boards until lunch was ready.
Making strangers feel genuinely welcome and valued is quite a gift. Not everyone has it in equal measure, so I agree it is wise to have welcome teams who can break the ice and make the introduction to other more reticent members of the congregation who can hopefully continue the dialogue once it has been initiated.
Thank you for the reminder about the ‘specially inscribed pens’ – a fun part of the liturgy at Central Baptist Chelmsford!