When You Don’t Know Who’s Worshiping

You used to know who was in the worship services you were leading, or attending. You could look around and you’d see familiar, beloved faces. You’d know, in most churches, who the “new” people were.

It’s the familiar, beloved ones we’re (mostly) lamenting right now. They’re the ones we pastors picture when we stand before a camera in an empty room. When some of us have posted pictures along our pews to represent the absent worshipers, theirs are the faces we’ve included.

With churches now empty and worship freshly moved online, it would be easy to focus on the ways we’re in the midst–virtually–of those familiar faces. The ones whose names and stories we know. The ones that connect us to our accustomed rituals of backyard barbecues, bedside prayers, and milestones like confirmations, weddings, and funerals. We probably default to thinking of those people when we preach and when we pray.

But the truth is, there are almost certainly people you’ve never known worshiping alongside you now. Moving online gives us new reach and connection. These new faces might be connected to one of those faces that are known and beloved within your church. Or they might be a stranger in your neighborhood or far away who is reaching out for meaning in this season. The avenues for anyone, anywhere, to find any of us, at any time, have just multiplied exponentially.

So what if we made a point of seeing those people? Here are three key things we would do:

1: We’d help the new people feel welcome. When we know we have a room full of occasional or new attenders, such as with a big-family baptism or a new location launch, we do worship differently. (Or at least we should.) We welcome expansively. We don’t assume everyone knows the insider language of our longtime attenders. We go out of our way to help people know they’re seen and welcomed.

How does that happen online? We name it. “I’m so glad we can gather as a church, even at a distance. I am imagining many of your faces, and I’m glad you’re here. I know there are many with us right now whom I haven’t met. I’m so glad you’ve joined us. You are welcome here.” This helps those new attenders and also the longstanding members who are apt to forget this is even happening.

We interact. Just like we’d make a point of interacting with someone we didn’t know if we were together physically, we do the same online. That can come by creating a means of connection in the comments, or in a “connect” form on our website, or whatever is within your technology. If there’s a way for people to comment, make sure we reply not just to the beloved friends whose names scroll onto our screen, but also to others whose names are unfamiliar. Don’t let their comments or questions remain unanswered, just because they aren’t attached to names and thumbnail pictures that warm your heart.

We follow up. To the extent we’re able to capture information about someone who hasn’t been a regular part of our worshiping community, we follow up. Never underestimate the value of a kind message that communicates that we care about that person, even though we don’t know them yet.

2: We wouldn’t assume “they” know everything “we” do. When we’re gathering all in one room, it feels natural to talk about some local festival, tragedy, or celebrity without explanation. It feels like people will generally know what we’re talking about. Even if someone new walks in, it’s likely that they’re from the local area–so they already know–or they’re visitors who will gladly enter into the spirit of what we’re describing.

When we don’t know who’s in the room, those expectations get stretched. Plus, as diversity increases among even our local attenders, the possibility increases that not everyone will know that happening or person you’ve decided to mention. So it’s always a good idea to include a short, gracious explanation. After you mention “Prairie Days,” for instance, you could say, “In case you’re not familiar with Prairie Days, it’s a festival here in town that happens up on the square every year in July.” You’re not calling out anyone’s ignorance, and you need only a slight description–just enough to give some context for this thing that you mentioned.

The same goes for church-y words and concepts. I never mention “the gospels” without adding something like, “those first four books of the newer testament, in the Bible, that tell about Jesus’ life and death and resurrection.” The same goes for “Lent,” or “Advent,” or, well, you get the idea. If someone new to faith will be lost without a bit of explanation, then give it. In a matter-of-fact way, with no judgment or shame. (Some of your long-time attenders will appreciate it, too.)

3. We’d work toward a bigger “we.” Are you feeling the tension of my use of “we” in this post? I am! As if “we” are the ones who are offering something to “them,” and have to accommodate “them,” and help “them” feel comfortable. Ouch.

It would be easy to think of our regular, pre-COVID-19, in-person worshiping community as the “we” of our church. That “we” clearly does not include those unseen, possibly distant people who might have joined our livestream worship once or multiple times. “They” are welcome to join that way, but they’re not in the real or imagined “we” that is our church.

Now, of course, this “we” isn’t static; there are always people coming in and out of regular attendance and membership. But still, for those who’ve been around awhile, there’s a sense of who “we” are, right? The person who’s never been in worship, in our sanctuary: They’re clearly not (yet) part of us.

It cannot surprise anyone when all of that feels true. As we live into a future in which in-person worship is only one of our options, though, we will need a different we. We will begin to become people who have shared worship, period. People whose names we’ve begun to know through prayer groups or small groups or Bible studies that discuss heavy questions in Zoom breakout rooms or in individual, caring phone calls. It’s going to stretch our brains to re-imagine the scope of the “we” that is the church, but the time is coming, and now is, for us to let that truth settle in. With joy, actually. We are more than we thought we were!

It’s what I’ve been saying for a long time, in #Foolish Church and beyond, about making room for the people who are often overlooked in our communities. Those who are affected by incarceration, mental illness, trauma, violence, and poverty. Every one of those factors affects people closer to us than we realized, and probably now is represented among people attending your church who wouldn’t or couldn’t show up at set times and places. I so hope our we can be big enough to encompass every one of those needs, and more.

There’s much more to consider about this worshiping community that is hidden from view. Stay tuned as we continue that conversation in this space.