Blog

I recently made a trip back to the family farm in rural Bronson, Kansas.  The farm is exactly as you would imagine it.  Travel down on a long, gravel road until you see the small, white farmhouse with a big red barn.  Don’t mind the cows gazing up at you while slowing working their jaws, or the quail gathered in the windows of the outbuildings.  Just come on up to the porch and make yourself at home.

This is where my grandfather was born and lived his entire life.  This is where my ancestors, traveling West to the new frontier, staked out their lot and started a new life.  The town of Bronson was once bustling.   The railroad came roaring through, giving life to stores, restaurants and banks.  Today, like many rural spots, most of the town is boarded up and abandoned.  What’s left is a funeral home, post office, gas station and The Chicken Shack restaurant.  The town boasts a population of less than 300 people, spread out over hundreds of acres of farm land where your closest neighbor is likely a mile away.

Through all of the town’s ups and downs, one constant has been the First United Methodist Church of Bronson.  This small country church is classically clad with white siding and pocked with old gothic arch windows.  But it’s the awkward, low-roofed addition stitched onto the back of the building that the church is best known for—the Fellowship Hall.  For decades, it was the biggest room in town.  This is where Bronson families celebrated life’s holidays and hallmark moments, where city functions brought the whole town together and where social groups gathered.  Whatever your reason for being in the Fellowship Hall, you left well fed, topped off with a piece of homemade pie baked by the church ladies.

Just as I have dozens of times in my life, I recently found myself back in the Fellowship Hall.  The quilting group’s latest project was pushed aside against old wood paneling walls to make room for the long tables and chairs now filling the space.  We gathered to celebrate the final milestone in the life of my grandfather, who had received the great gift of going to be with God.  As my family gathered in that familiar room, it hit me.  Despite the odds, the church was still operating and open to those that needed it.  Why is that?  What makes this church unique from the many other rural churches in our country that have been forced to close? 

I believe the answers lie with the church founders.  When First United Methodist of Bronson was built, those who funded it required it be used for events and meetings beyond the church’s own calendar.  It was a vision of saying our church will be the community center in town, a destination for all of our town’s activities.  That vision, that open door policy, meant that no matter what a person’s personal faith may be, they were comfortable at the church.  They can’t imagine life in Bronson without the church.  It’s that “Third Place” in the life of Bronson, and it didn’t require consultants, research groups or motivational speakers to figure this out; just common sense and passion for the community.

The church is still at risk, however.  A federal grant funded the building of a new library and gym several years ago.  This new building has become a preferred gathering place in town, largely overshadowing the old Fellowship Hall.  And as the small church has aged and shrunk along with the town, there’s the challenge of how to stay relevant for today.  My grandma and I often talk about how a country church, made up of an elderly congregation, could reach out to younger families.  It’s not an easy crowd to reach in an area afflicted by drug problems and declining industry.

But this house of faith has a great thing going for it: their DNA—people who care about people—hasn’t changed.  For many years now, they have expressed that DNA by providing a place for people to gather.  It’s been a low confrontational strategy to get people into the church building and it’s worked.  And on some level, it probably still does.  But as the church looks towards it’s future, the challenge lies in how to re-vision that DNA so it translates to a 2011 world.  It’s a challenge all of our churches—rural, suburban or urban; traditional or contemporary; poor or rich—need to embrace.  So, what are you doing?