Pastoring in a Rural City
by Rev. Lance Armstrong O’Donnell
12 April, A.D. 2007; rev. 9 June, A.D. 2009[1]
Earthly Point of Contact
“Hey, Lance!” I hear from the lane next door. I have just walked into the local bowling alley. It is early spring and my youth group is out for a little Sunday afternoon fun. I turn to see a couple familiar faces, but at first I cannot remember the names, so I say hello and we begin to talk. I became acquainted with this couple at a neighborhood association meeting, and our conversation is about some of the issues that drew us together in the first place, a conversation that quickly leads us to local politics, for two of my members are running for local office, and both are involved in the issues about which we are speaking. However, the member running for mayor is not mentioned, so I say, “What about so-and-so?”
“Oh, he hasn’t been here long enough. He’s only been here twenty years or so.”
***
The little interchange above says a great deal about what rural communities value and how they are organized and function. One must understand that I met this couple over city-type issues, namely, proposed changes to the increasingly busy state highway that runs right through town and right in front of my church building. Furthermore, the man speaking to me is not fond of the current mayor and knows that he has been a divisive figure. Moreover, the current mayor is not a native son of the community either. What matters, in the mind of this man and to most people in rural settings, is that the one of candidates has been here longer. Longevity reigns.
Now, in the larger cities in which I have lived and worked, it is hard for me to imagine the opponent of an unpopular mayor being dismissed because he’s “only been here twenty years or so.”
All this is to say that in a rural city you will have some “city” issues like indigents, traffic problems, drugs, crime, race, poverty. My experience suggests that such issues in suburban and urban communities are typically faced in a “can-do,” urgent, and functional manner. (The “inner city,” I believe, is another matter.) My experience in urban and suburban environments suggests, for example, that if the mayor isn’t doing his job well enough, then people will not have significant value conflict with electing a new mayor, even if he hasn’t been around that long. However, in a rural community, even a rural city, communal ties are strong and generational, and the value priorities are different: longevity reigns.
This is not to say that merit and function and urgency and a host of other values are irrelevant in the rural environment. It is simply a matter of priority, and this has profound implications for ministry.
What is a “
Before I continue, let me speak for a minute about the seeming paradox of the “rural city.” (The U.S. Census Bureau calls the city I’m talking about a “micropolitan,” but not all micropolitans are “rural,” so I’ll stick with “rural city.”) The rural city is a center of commerce and population that serves as the hub of a larger geographic area whose ethos is agricultural. The rural city has houses closely packed, some with small yards and many with no yards at all. It will have run down buildings and graffiti and--as I alluded before--in microcosm, most if not all of the issues faced by larger urban centers. The difference is that most of those living in the rural city, deep-down, do not think of themselves as “city people,” and for myriad reasons, they choose to stay even though moving to an urban center would present many of them with greater opportunities for economic and cultural “advancement.” They choose to stay, typically, because their value priorities are family, community, longevity, a tie to the land. These things trump all others.
Many reading this will say, “Of course!” because they are from rural areas, but those from urban areas, or those who have acclimated to the suburban-urban value set, will find ministry in the rural city confounding. And, truth be told, even those from rural environments will be confounded because the very decision to leave and attend the seminary is a decision driven by different value priorities. One leaves “the plow” behind because the call to serve trumps all other things. When you make that decision, when the call to serve overrides all other values, you automatically are at odds with those who choose to stay.
Thus, I am increasingly convinced that the only way to overcome the longevity obstacle (and other values obstacles) and faithfully pastor in such an environment is to view one’s self as a missionary.
A missionary, of necessity, is a pastor and sociologist. A missionary understands that he is an outsider and that he will likely always be an outsider. He accepts that reality and even sees it as an advantage. His God-given task is to proclaim the Gospel, and as an outsider he may be able to understand the people to whom he is sent in ways that they cannot see themselves, and if he is wise he may be able to preach the Gospel to them in a manner that penetrates even more deeply into the soil of their lives. Thus, a missionary will consciously use all the tools at his disposal--earthly and theological. Like the missionary in a totally foreign land, he will immerse himself in their lives, taking the attitude of a learner, asking Who? What? Why? When? How? He will assiduously take notes. He will honor his “ancestors” in the ministry and the ancestors that make up the fabric of communal memory in the land to which he is sent. He will learn to speak ill of no one, for all are related. He will take, from the very beginning, the long view. He will not look vainly at his own ministry. He will see that it is Christ’s mission, and trust the Word to grow in due season. He will find his joy not in the immediate signs of “success” so important to the suburbanite, but in the glory of discovering the Word itself.
Indeed, the more the rural city missionary immerses himself in the people’s lives and comes to know them and their values, the more he agonizingly prays for wisdom as to how the Gospel is to be proclaimed, the more he will understand that he is Christ’s instrument, and the more he will find the Word taking deep root in himself.
Yes, pastoring in a rural city is a missionary task, and if this is your call, may our Lord Christ prosper the work of your hands.
[1]. This essay was submitted at the request of the Rev. Scott Stiegmeyer of Concordia Theological Seminary for a collection of essays for seminary students. It was not included among the final collection, but my convictions remain as a missiological and pastoral statement.
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