Souls On Board
Church growth begins when numbers become names, names become stories, and stories become sacred.
As I was boarding an airplane recently, I overheard the pilot tell the crew how many people were on board.
I stepped onto the plane, smiled at the flight attendant in her charming neckerchief, and took my complimentary disinfectant wipe, I heard the pilot turn back toward the crew members and give the report.
“119 souls on board,” she said.
I love that little piece of aviation jargon. I think they say it on ships too.
They call the people… souls.
We are more than passengers. More than customers. More than cattle being herded about a flying tube. More than cargo. More than objects.
Souls.
Some cursory research taught me that this probably isn’t a spiritually-inspired choice of language. As I understand it, it’s more about efficiency — instead of saying there are 109 paid passengers, one pilot, one co-pilot, six crew members, one jump seater, and one lap child (which would take a long time in an emergency situation), they call all the living humans aboard… souls.
But there’s something about that term that makes your eyes open a little wider, isn’t there?
Especially in the context of a giant metal tube that hurls you and some fellow humans through the atmosphere at 500 miles per hour at around 30,000 feet above sea level. Calling us all “souls” underlines the gravity of our traveling choices.
A brief glimpse at your own mortality will change how you see people, I suppose.
Let me pause here, though, because I’m writing about “souls” in the context of a “church growth” blog. So a whole lot of folks are wincing with every sentence, just waiting for me to describe our shared responsibility to “save” each and every one of those souls from eternal damnation.
That is not what this post is about.
I don’t personally think it’s our job to save souls. I think it’s our job to see them. To know them. To walk with them. To nourish them.
If eternal salvation is necessary, it’s above my pay grade.
I’m writing about “souls” in the context of church growth to turn the attention of our leaders (including me) and our systems (including mine) to the depth and brilliance of every human we encounter.
C.S. Lewis shouts at us from the past, “There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal.”
The people we encounter in church growth contexts are not ordinary people. They are extraordinary souls.
They certainly aren’t just leads, numbers, prospects, or potential members.
These are souls that show up… as visitors. These are souls… who click on our social media posts. These are souls… who drive past our signs in the front lawn of our church. These are souls.
They don’t care what sub-denomination of your denomination that has split three times since the 70’s you belong to. They are lonely and longing.
They don’t care about your well-worded, polite, milquetoast mission statement on your website or the bullet points in your brochure. They are seeking stories to confirm they’ll be loved as they are.
Here are a couple examples of what I’m getting at.
We sometimes think about “young families” categorically as a single golden goose. But there is no such thing as “young families”; there are only real humans.
We sometimes think of “visitors” as visitors, but there are no visitors, really. There are only people who have courageously, with trembling hearts and sweaty palms, entered our space hoping to be noticed for the real, beautiful, wonderful, human souls they are.
And every soul needs to be held gently. Every soul needs to be attended to personally. Every soul longs to be known. To be seen. To be nourished.
Every soul needs to be ushered into sacred community one by one.
So…
Who is ushering each soul?
How are you keeping track of each soul’s journey?
Are you checking on each soul you’re accompanying each week?
Is each soul individually considered, invited, listened to, and loved along a clear journey to the right way for them to find belonging in your church ecosystem?
Every soul needs to be ushered into sacred community one by one.
That is the slow work.
The subtitle of this piece reads, “Church growth begins when numbers become names, names become stories, and stories become sacred.” This is so important… but I must admit it’s something that I struggle with. In my own work to grow BETWEEN and to help the local churches I support with growth, I so often fail to focus on the sacred stories of people. I get so excited about strategy and numbers and systems and scale.
As I’m writing this (strategic think piece about church growth), I’m behind on personal outreach to people who depend on me for ministry. I’m lacking in simple check-in text messages and phone calls. I’m light on coffee meetings and follow-up emails to people who I know could use some sacred connection right now.
That is the slow work.
I need to realign my priorities to ushering each soul. Instead, I’m typing on Substack to avoid doing the work that requires my heart to open fully.
If I consider the model Jesus provides for us… he rarely wrote think pieces. The gospel stories don’t include much about his strategy meetings and systems optimization.
But I don’t think he’d shame me for this. I think he’d sit beside me and notice me doing the internal work of figuring out how to truly share the good news with people. He’d place his hand on my shoulder and encourage me to reach out to someone right now.
To consider the souls I can reach.
To open my heart fully.
He’d gently point me back toward the next person.
The next text. The next call. The next cup of coffee.
The next soul on board.
That is the slow work.