Metrics of Renewal, 2: Seemingly Vibrant Churches in Unexpected Places

Prince Edward Island was the last place I expected to have a moving church experience.

Rewind to 2007. With our elementary-age boys in tow, we made the 1200-mile drive from Morgantown, West Virginia to Canada, to Cavendish on the north shore of Prince Edward Island. We loaded up the Olds Silhouette (the Cadillac of minivans) and went northeast toward the Atlantic Provinces for a little summer getaway. I can’t quite recall why we picked PEI. It had nothing to do with Anne of Green Gables—books that neither Julie, our boys nor I had ever read. We have no family up that way and no childhood memories of a trip we were trying to relive. It just seemed like a fun vacation spot.

It wasn’t the boring slog of a drive that you might expect. On the journey north, we stopped in Boston for the obligatory tour of Paul Revere’s house and the Old North Church—along with a nonstop stream of Dunkin Donuts. The fireworks extravaganza for the Fourth topped it all off on the banks of the Charles River.

To pass the time during the long drive, we blushingly listened to Anne of Green Gables. The story has some sickeningly girlish moments, but it didn’t live up to our worst fears. We kind of liked it. And we already started to picture the lush landscape of the small island province just north of New Brunswick.

Our quaint vacation cottage was waiting for us. We gorged on fresh mussels, berries and stretched out on the exotic red-sand beaches, while shooing away the pesky mosquitoes that swarmed us on every putt-putt golf course. We enjoyed a great five days.

Sunday came in the middle of our stay. We’re in church every Sunday during the normal course of things, but what do you do on Sunday when vacationing in a strange place?

My instinct from childhood was to look up the local Church of Christ, visit their assembly and find out if we had some mutual acquaintances. But that’s a little more risky in the polarized world of today’s churches. Plus, there appeared to be no Churches of Christ on PEI.

On one of our crisscross island drives, we passed the New Glasgow Christian Church. It looked like an old-fashioned, wooden building in a quiet location. We pictured a sleepy service in an interesting old building. After a quick vote, we decided to check it out on Sunday morning.

We arrived late for worship. The parking lot was jammed with all makes and models of cars with local license plates. We awkwardly looked for empty seats in a packed sanctuary—maybe 200 people total—until someone pointed us upstairs to the postage-stamp-sized balcony.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. This little country building packed for worship? The preacher, a retired minister who drove over every Sunday from Charlottetown, was energetic and playful. What the praise band lacked in musicality, they made up for in heart and enthusiasm.

A member stepped to the podium to call everyone for communion. People lined up to receive bread and grape juice from a family (mom, dad, kids) who held the trays as all walked past. I was a tearful mess by the time communion was over—well, a mess for me that is, which was probably invisible to all but my wife.

We had randomly opted (or so it seemed) to visit an unknown church in the most unlikely place and ended up having an encounter with the Almighty God. The Spirit of God appeared to indwell these precious people.

What happened to make this church so seemingly vibrant? I’m still not sure. The folks weren’t even that friendly. For all we know, half of the attendees might have been visitors, too. It could have been a special service with elements never used before and never done since. Perhaps the church was in truth dysfunctional but just put on a good face for worship services. I have no idea.

But I do know that we experienced something special in that brief, one-time visit. And it demonstrates several interesting things about the potential for church health:

(1) A church’s vibrancy is not dependent on its location. The best parcel of land doesn’t guarantee health. Having the nicest building around doesn’t automatically produce a special indwelling of the Spirit.

(2) The quality of a church’s music doesn’t directly relate to its vibrancy. Great music sometimes rings out in deserted cathedrals. There may be an important positive point here about the authenticity and spirit of the singing, but the quality in which it’s led doesn’t ensure that God will show up in an exceptional manner.

(3) Slick preaching doesn’t necessarily produce a vibrant church. I think preaching is important, and I think that a good preacher attracts people to a church. But good preaching isn’t always slick, full of technological gimmicks or well-crafted narratives. Healthy churches may or may not have amazing preaching.

(4) A church’s vibrancy doesn’t always depend on initial friendliness. Some of the ways we measure a church’s “warmth” are culturally biased. Friendliness looks different in various parts of North America and across the world. The ability to show sincere welcome is important to congregational health, but that may not look like initial friendliness.