(This essay was originally written for the OPC’s
Ordained Servant, and so is geared primarily toward elders; however, I think it might be of interest to a broader audience.)
I pastor an OPC Church in Denver, Colorado. In the metropolitan area, we have a fair representation of most of the confessionally reformed alphabet soup: URC, C&ARC, PCA, RPCNA, and OPC (not to mention numerous EPC and CRC works). Our relationships are cordial, but contact informal and infrequent. We don’t talk much across the denominations, and we certainly never bring up problems within our particular congregations.
As elders, our perspective can become quite restricted. We are in the same congregation, week in and week out, and so have little interest in what’s going on elsewhere, particularly in another denomination. Our people, by and large, do not share that perspective. If they have a principial ecclesiastical commitment, it is to being reformed, not to being OPC, PCA, or URC. We who are ordained may see the ecclesiastical differences as huge, but all our people see is Calvinism.
Thus, they have no problem moving from one denomination to another at will. There’s certainly a fairly free traffic between the PCA and OPC around the country, even amongst ministers. On a local level, the same can be seen between any two given confessionally reformed congregations. If someone isn’t happy with the way things are going at their OPC Church, they just visit, and eventually join, the URC across town.
This creates a pastoral problem. Our Churches are not accountable to each other; no formal mechanism for checking up on sheep who wander across denominational boundaries exists. You know how it goes: a family is less frequent in their attendance, then you get a letter from a nearby consistry requesting a transfer of membership. You send off the letter, but you’ve never discussed this family with their pastor or elders. The best chance for these conversations is the “professional courtesy” which exists between pastors. However, the pressure on pastors to fatten the rolls creates a powerful disincentive against digging into an attractive young family’s ecclesiastical past. From the other side, who wants to look like a spurned lover in front of other elders by trying to pursue fleeing sheep? These issues are exacerbated by denominational divisions. How often do you quash latent guilt over sheep-stealing by comforting yourself with the conviction that your denomination is better than their old one?
No doubt, you are familiar with the result. It happens in Denver, and it happens across the country in most communities with more than one reformed Church. Because people can so easily drift in and out of our congregations, they get into the habit of leaving whenever things become unpleasant. Maybe they get happy feet because the new pastor in town sounds more interesting than the man they’ve been listening to for the last five years. Or perhaps they’re tired of trying to browbeat the congregation into their way of thinking. Let’s be honest: folks almost never have an entirely “innocent” reason to transfer their membership when they’re not also changing their home address. There’s a problem, and most of the time, it’s the same problem that caused them to leave their last Church and join yours.
And so we end up with de facto Church splits as congregants migrate across town. Sure, we’re all members of NAPARC, but we view those people with suspicion. They were obnoxious when they were with us, and if that congregation welcomed them, then everyone there must be equally suspect. Outwardly, we send fraternal delegates to each other’s presbytery meetings, but inwardly consider our confessionally reformed brethren less orthodox than ourselves.
Even where these failures of charity don’t occur, a fundamental and grievous problem remains: souls are not cared for. The serious Spiritual problems which drive people to leave are not addressed by either the dismissing or receiving Church. Oftentimes, we let the sheep go with a sigh of relief, thinking, “If those elders want to deal with this family, then they’re welcome to them!” Our zeal for their sanctification takes second place to our desire for calm session meetings.
In order to properly care for reformed Christians in our city, pastors and sessions must communicate openly across denominational lines. We must help one another to minister. When grumblers find no safe harbor, they may finally try to solve their problems instead of running from them. Such cooperation has positive implications as well: when pastors are not in competition, they can speak charitably about one another. I’ve even gone so far as to advise a visitor to our congregation to consider the American Reformed Church which meets much closer to his home. Despite our organizational divisions, we must pastor as though we were all part of one denomination, as though we were obliged to care for the sheep of other sessions as our own.
Most reading this essay will agree this is the way things ought to be. If so, then consider: why are we organizationally divided when we can whole-heartedly support the ministries of other denominations? Moreover, why do we allow division to continue when we all acknowledge it hinders pastoral care? We ought to be talking about reformed ecumenicism as pastors, yet one almost never hears these concerns raised. Instead, we focus on relatively minute differences in polity or confessional standard, and never ask how we can better minister to our people.
The arguments for remaining divided have a certain appeal when we consider our Churches as national entities. However, ministry takes place locally, and broader concerns over maintenance of tradition are prima facie secondary to our pastoral charge. If we act as one locally, then we should be united nationally.
