You already know what makes for a highly healthy church. I can only remind you. You know, because you know how it feels.
How it feels when you have lost someone you love, or lost your health, and there are companions there for you. Sitting beside you, holding your hand, lending a hand.
You know how a highly healthy church feels, many of you, because you can remember how if felt when there was conflict that escalated beyond any tolerable level, and how unhealthy that felt, and how different it feels when conflict is faced confidently and managed responsibly.
You know how it feels, many of you, when your child or grandchild stands on the chancel steps and sings, or greets you after Church School class with a smile and an original piece of art or spiritual wisdom.
You know how it feels, many of you, when your church is constrained by scarcity, never enough money, almost hard to breathe—and how healthy it feels when you know you are a part of a community of generosity.
You know how it feels. You know what the habits are of highly healthy churches.
But I will appreciate it if you take a few moments to listen while I remind you, perhaps offer a different lens, a different way to look at those feelings, and the things that elicit those feelings.
The first habit of highly healthy churches is a clear sense of mission.
Alice, in a pre-Disney version of Wonderland, asks the Cheshire Cat: “I
wonder if you could help me find my way?”
And the cat, with a grin of course, replies: “That depends on where you want to
get to.”
Says Alice, “Oh, it really doesn’t matter.”
“Well then,” says the cat, “it really doesn’t matter which way you go.”
So it is with a church.
You have a new mission statement here—being tried out by the Board. “First Church is a community of love beyond belief, transforming ourselves, Houston, and the world.” I like it. Better by far than nine-tenths of the church mission statements I’ve seen.
A community of love beyond belief—a tender play on words suggested by sage theologian Thandeka. Love beyond belief meaning that the way we treat one another and serve the world is more important than any dogma or creed. Love beyond belief.
But a mission statement is not the same thing as a mission. The words must come off the page and be, we might say, internalized.
In many ways, I think you have done that here—so many in this congregation have done that. As best I can tell, your mission is to be the effective voice of liberal religion and values in the heart of Houston.
Your mission has much to do with where you are—with geography. Where you are going is nowhere. (Now that is a catchy slogan.)
Here you are, at the hub, a badly needed hub, with spokes radiating out to many surrounding communities. There is almost a physical sense here that you must be here and be strong. Be here and be strong in order to serve and minister to GLBT persons and institutions in Montrose; Multicultural communities in surrounding wards; the enormous medical center community, and Rice University and other academic communities. All need the ministries of this church, each in a different way.
So if that grinning cat asks you where you are going, the answer is not
really nowhere, but rather:
“We are going in all different directions—from right here, at the Heart of
Houston.
As a part of a church with a clear and strong mission, you have a better chance
of keeping in mind your own, personal clear and strong mission. Your life is not
without meaning. You mean something to others, to the world. And you mean more
if you are clear about where you are going.
My professional mission, for example, is to empower congregations to be healthy
and thriving.
And my personal mission I take from Aldous Huxley, who after a lifetime of immersion in the religions of the world, said his only advice was this: “Try to be a little kinder.” So my mission, on a personal level, is to try to be a little kinder.
The second habit of highly healthy churches is a strong program of lifespan faith development for all ages. You have it, so we can move on. Pausing, perhaps, to remember that the church is virtually the only institution available to most of you where all ages come together. Where you can get a hug from a child and an octogenarian, within seconds of each other.
Today after worship, we’ll celebrate the 88th birthday of Frances Pavlovic and the 90th birthday of Marian Anderson--all the while surrounded by infant, toddler and teen energy. It does not happen much of anywhere else, and it does not happen unless it is tended, nurtured, planned and led.
Probably true of your personal lifespan faith development: Amounts to so much more if tended, nurtured, and planned.
And what the heck is “faith development” anyway? Another way of saying ‘spiritual deepening.’
Another way of saying with Hamlet: “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”Another way of saying, “if you’re not growing, you are dying.” Another way of saying: “The formation of character does not much occur on the living room couch in front of the television. The formation of character is more likely to occur in intentional community.”
Third, highly healthy churches know where they come from. See number two above. Highly healthy churches know their founding stories, enjoy telling stories from all the ages of their development; to quote Willie and Waylan-- of all the good times they’ve had and the good times to come.
The founding story of this church is of a circuit riding Universalist who stopped in Houston in 1898 to tell the town some good news: Despite what the hell-fire preachers were saying, you are NOT going to Hell, because Hell is closed, and God loves you too much to ever have allowed it to open in the first place.
A founding story of my family is of my grandfather as a small boy bravely making his way alone for more than a thousand miles, through Indian territory, after his father was murdered, in order to find his way back to his mother in their Ozark home.
A founding story that belongs to us because of scripture and tradition is the Passover story, to be enacted here in a church family Seder in April. A story of slavery and liberation, of exodus and journey, of deliverance and singing and joy and blessings that are enough.
Healthy churches know stories, their stories. They are not afraid of their stories, nor of their telling. They enact them in ceremony and ritual, tell them with reverence, recognize them as life-giving metaphor.
The forth habit of highly healthy churches is this: They have high expectations of members. Here at first church we require those who join to follow a path to membership. It is not as rigorous as it should be, but we are clear that certain things must be done. Joining a church is not like joining the Chuckey Cheese Birthday Club. In fact, in our tradition, one does not really join the church at all; one joins the other members of the congregation—you join other people, and covenant to share their lives.
Before we invite people to share our lives, something should surely be required. And it is. But not enough. And so many of you CREATE those high expectations for yourselves. This is what true health is all about.
The church REQUIRES only a short introductory class, but you create the expectation that you will keep studying and learning.
The church requires no specific commitment to volunteer, but you create an expectation for yourself of volunteering where and when needed.
The church requires only a pledge of record each year—no set amount. But you create your own high expectation—of a tithe, or of five percent of income, or whatever benchmark you feel is high enough.
Healthy churches have high expectations of members. Is this true in our personal lives? Personal lives in a church like this one where professionals and community leaders often confront VERY high expectations?
Churches that expect a high level of commitment—that is what we are talking about—those churches thrive BECAUSE of that high level of commitment.
In our personal lives I like to think it is as the ancient Hebrew Wisdom literature puts it: “Go, eat your meals with enjoyment and drink your wine with a merry heart; for God has long ago approved what you do. Enjoy life all the days of your life that are given you under the sun, and whatever work you hand finds to do, do with all your might.”
It is, perhaps, all that simple.
The fifth habit of highly healthy churches is this: They are outward turned. Just as the sunflower turns toward the sun, so the healthy congregation turns its attention to those in need beyond the church doorstep.
For the past two days, many of you have worked hard to usher in a new day of service, the next chapter in a proud tradition here of being outward-turned.
Congregations that turn inward, worrying more about individual likes and dislikes, hurt feelings and personal gratification—congregations that turn inward shrivel and die. They become first private chapels worshiping the self and the tastes of nostalgia, and then they dry up and blow away.
So it is in our personal lives. When we turn toward others, we are more likely to find meaning and happiness. You know this, I am only reminding you.
Of course, for a church to turn outward, the soul must be fed in inward ways, and care must given gladly to those inside who are in need. Nicely done in this church, all that.
The sixth habit of highly healthy churches, and you saw this one coming—the sixth habit is this: Highly healthy churches are communities of generous givers.
I think you understand that. I would only add that nothing can stifle and destroy the other six healthy habits more effectively than a church living out of scarcity, scraping together meager funds for meager mission and ministry.
I will again tithe this year. It is a healthy personal habit—of the heart. It would be cold of me not to invite you to do the same.
At last, the seventh habit: Strong professional ministry strongly supported. If you want to see what strong ministry looks like, come next Saturday when Laurel Hallman leads us in a spiritual retreat. And come again next Sunday when Laurel preaches. She is five feet tall, almost. Broke through the stained glass ceiling at Dallas First Church, built it into one of our largest. Made it clear that she was the CEO, and that she was in love with every member. That she was a spiritual leader…and an administrator. That she was a theologian…who could raise millions of dollars. That she was a profound preacher, who would rather talk to you in the fellowship hall about your grandchildren.
Of course, not all strong ministers have all of Laurel Hallman’s abilities. Most of us are not very good at something or other. We count on you to make up for that.
But what healthy churches demand is strong leadership from their professional staff, and especially from their senior minister.
All of which is possible only when there is strong ministry of the laity. Only when you are empowered to grow your soul and serve others.
It is a partnership that thrives when there is mutual admiration, shared compassion. When kind words are spoken, rewards are ample, love is not withheld.
A minister who is a strong leader prepares a table before you—a well-ordered church with well-ordered worship where your mind and spirit are fed. And then you are expected to return the favor—by feeding the minds and spirits and bodies of others.
A HIGHLY healthy church becomes a place where you really, really want to be. Becomes…THE place to be. Over and above nearly anyplace else.
In the highly healthy church, the beauty of human relationship and connection overpowers even the beauty of nature.
In the highly healthy church, spirited celebration rivals any sunlit spring day.
You knew all that, but thanks for letting me remind you.

A sermon delivered at the First Unitarian Church of Houston
By David Keyes
March 21, 2010