When I wrote about “how churches show you are not welcome,” among the comments it generated was one asking me to do the reverse: ‘Tell us how churches show you are welcome.” Great idea.

So, I posed that question to my FB friends, and the comments began flying in.

Oddly enough, however, all the comments on how a church shows it wants you boil down to the same thing.

They give you a warm, personal welcome.

Nothing else is more important than this in communicating to first-timers that they are welcome in this place and wanted to return.

But, it’s how a church communicates that welcome which tells the story. Not all agree, of course. Some who overdo the friendliness will smother newcomers, while others trying to respect their privacy will leave the impression they are unwanted. It’s impossible to get it right every time with every visitor.

That said, we will posit our list here and encourage pastors and other leaders to prayerfully select what works best for them. Keep in mind, unless we do these things in the power of the Spirit and for the glory of the Lord, none of this will work.

1. They make everything clear in print, in sermon, and in announcements. (I Corinthians 14:8)

Without overlooking the regulars or boring to death those who come all the time, church leaders will make certain that theological language is explained, that meeting places are clearly spelled out, and that people being identified are adequately named. There will be no coded messages in print or from the pulpit. All are welcome in this place and no theological degrees or official endorsement from the “in” group will be required before visitors are made to feel at home.

2. The signage is clear and just right.

In the last church I pastored, the worship center is oddly shaped. Doors open into the building from every side. However, only half of them are “correct;” the others open into obscure hallways. Only after a visitor called our attention to this–“I don’t know which is the main entrance”–did we letter “entrance” over several doors. One or two members chafed at the way it messed up the decor, but guests appreciated the help.

The church has several parking lots and a small drive-through which enables motorists to drop off guests under a covered portico. Once, we sent a team to Dauphin Way Baptist Church in Mobile, a church that had been recommended as having “gotten their signage right.” They came back, made appropriate recommendations, and we made the needed signs.

Longtime church members do not need signs. First-timers are grateful for them.

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“It doesn’t matter to the Lord whether He saves by the few or by the many” (I Samuel 14:6).

Depending on a number of factors, growing a small church may well be  one of the more do-able things a pastor can achieve.

Those variable factors include…

–the health of the church.  You don’t want a sick church to grow; it needs to get well first!.  I once told my congregation, “There’s a good reason no one is joining this church.  I wouldn’t join it either!” I went on to explain that the Lord was not going tolet us grow until some people got their hearts right with Him.

Believe it or not, those words were inspired and the people received them well, and repented. This was followed by three years of dynamic fellowship and constant revival.

–the attitude of the congregation.  If the people are satisfied with the status quo, outsiders will not be made welcome, I’ve known Sunday School classes composed of a small cluster of best friends who felt imposed on by visitors and new members.  No one wants to go where they’re not wanted.

–and the location of the facility   A church situated five miles down an isolated road, at the end of the dead end trail, can almost certainly forget about growing.  Yes, it’s been done, but rarely.

—the will of the Father.  God may well have plans He has chosen not to reveal to us.

The great thing about pastoring a reasonably healthy, small church is you can make a big difference in a hurry.

My seminary pastorate had run 40 in attendance for years. The day that congregation called me as pastor, I overheard one man saying to another, “This little church is doing all it’s ever going to do.”  I was determined to prove him wrong.

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As we sat at the breakfast table discussing memories good and bad, my Bertha said something so special I wrote it down just so I’d get it right.

We have a wagonload of memories of God’s people who have loved us and cared for us. But we also have painful memories that we wish we could edit out of our lives.  But the Holy Spirit has shown me that if He took out the pain and strife, He would also be removing the lovely things that happened during that same time. Or, that happened as a direct result of the bad event. 

It brought up a painful memory from my junior high days.  A teacher said something really harsh that forever left its mark on me. Over the years as I have sometimes reflected on that incident, my primary focus has been on the painful hurt he caused.  I’ve thought about that teacher, why he said what he did, what it meant, and how I took it.  But I realized something from what Bertha said.

He helped me.

The teacher who scarred the kid 

I was a new student in that school.  There were a hundred of us seventh-graders from across that part of the county, and that day we had been herded into the gymnasium. The band director–Mr. Keating was his name–called us to order and announced that today we would be electing class officers.

Now, for four years I’d gone to school in rural West Virginia and then we moved back to Alabama in time for my sixth grade in a two-room rural (I mean really, really rural!) school.  So, now, we would ride the bus on into the county seat of Double Springs, AL for the rest of our schooling.  Junior high and senior high classes were all held in the same building.

Of the hundred students in our class, perhaps half lived there in town. Since the rest of us were from across the county, only the town kids knew each other.  So, when class officers were chosen, they nominated people they knew.  As a result, the town kids were nominating one another. Only they were being elected.

So, I raised my hand.

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