Bursting the Insider-Outsider Bubble

There are many principles for planting or revitalizing healthy churches that belong to the category of “intangibles.” They are not the sort of things that are taught at seminary. They are learned by hard experience. Some literature on philosophy of ministry may cover these, but the vast majority of that pragmatic kind of Christian book is not read by those who are serious about their doctrine. That is understandable, but it also means that most of us will have to learn this the hard way, or never learn it at all. But, as the kids say: This is why we can’t have nice things. In this case, the nice thing is a growing, healthy church. Everybody wants one (except for the Dutch and the Scots), but they do not come automatically.

Reformed churches are particularly handicapped in this area, as a combination of modern Gnostic elements and a simplistic reaction to the excesses of American Evangelicalism form a distaste here. To even have a philosophy of ministry that addresses the newcomer smacks of the Seeker method.

What is the “Insider-Outsider Bubble”?

For starters, I made it up. At least I think I did, though someone else may have thought of it before. What matters is its meaning. It is a wall of perception. It is an obstacle to feeling at home. And that barrier is made up of the words, gestures, demands, and other habits of the insider group that outsiders do not find worth overcoming.

There is a point of critical mass when people (Americans in particular) begin to comfortably find themselves attracted to a new community. That is why when churches hit over a hundred, they find further growth easier, and why when churches are smaller than that, they find it incredibly difficult to catch growth numbers in comparable proportions to the larger. People often assume that has everything to do with resources collected when the growth has happened; but that is only one part of the story. There is, as I said, the more intangible side of things.

There are several barriers that a smaller group represents. These have to do with a shared language, a sense of purpose, an adequacy of resources, and perceived odds of success. Naturally there is a subjective element to all of these, as, in spite of the American doctrine, the customer is in fact not always right, and when it comes to more spiritual matters, the customer is invariably wrong. Above all of those metrics that the outsider has his or her eye on—above all such potential barriers is the genuine welcome of the insider that is perceived. Now, as I said, the customer is not always right. On the other hand, the insider cannot say that his welcome has been genuine and then not care about even the subjective impression of the outsider (let us cease to call him or her a “customer”).

There are subtle signals in word, deed, and circumstance.

Some of these can function like an inside joke. A once pleasant conversation that includes all instantly turns on some piece of humor that causes some to laugh and one person to wonder what they have missed. Or it may be accompanied by other gestures that communicate that the majority was perfectly comfortable to have left out the one or the few. The moment passes. Some may have thick enough skin to stay the relational course. It is as easy for the group to settle into the habit as it is for the outsider to give up. Both to include and to remain are acts of beginning to swim against the current. They are deliberate acts and they are not the norm.

The Elements of the Bubble

As surely as a cell wall is made up of imperceptible molecules, so this intangible social barrier is made up of seemingly imperceptible elements. I say “seemingly” because I maintain that these can be put under the microscope of our reflection, and that it is very simple to do. Everyone will recognize these phenomena, though the first hurdle will be that insider’s incredulity that such things could ever matter. How nit-picky! Or, as I have once heard it said, “Well, so and so should care more about preaching than about air conditioning or enough seating for such and such!” Indeed. But does the insider care as much about preaching as they claim if they do not love making way for more of its effects?

As the number of items at “the bubble’s membrane” approaches zero—e.g., the number of seats set up, bulletins printed, communion cups filled, or snacks presented for the post-service fellowship time—the wall actually gets thicker. The awkward approaching scarcity begins to communicate to the outsider that they are an impending problem. By contrast, proactive increasing of the supply communicates that they have been deliberately welcomed. I do not pretend to know the magic number for any other these, but a church leadership that does not keep an eye on the present trajectory so that the approaching newcomer is never encountered by that empty tray or those full back pews, when many front pews are still open—that is a church that cannot break the bubble.

Another more obvious bubble-hardener is the clique. But there are overt cliques and there are missed opportunities that function the same way. Church members must be regularly trained to have antennae up for any visitor attempting to get to the pastor or other elders after the service. Most other conversations can wait: especially if there is a regular extended fellowship time immediately afterwards. At the very least, elders and deacons must exercise the hospitality of ensuring visitors are fully integrated into conversation before any other business or small talk takes place. There is all afternoon (or separate meetings) for all of that. But you have one moment—often literally one minute—to protect that opening for the visitor.

A more difficult conversation for most regards elements of the service. This is a case of the good becoming enemy of the best. Outsider-stiffing elements of the service are made up of things which, in a better place, are positive and sometimes even essential elements of church life.

The instruction of children, making prayer requests known, inquiring about announcements, a time of meeting and greeting, or even light-hearted quips or birthday acknowledgments, or any other number of harmless or spiritual exercises have their place—but their place is actually elsewhere (and can be done better in those other contexts, incidentally) other than in the liturgy of corporate worship.

This is all the more important in our culture in which the attention span and physical capacities of most to sit (or stand and sit) is already pushed to its limits in anything more than an hour. But what do I mean by “outsider-stiffing” about these? It is the same with those cliques and limited resources presented. It has the effect of the inside joke. It is frankly awkward and in some cases irreverent.

When it comes to the time of sharing prayer requests, there is an additional set of problems. It is more performative and risky than most realize until they think about it. It is one thing for a whole church to pray before or after a service for a special need—whether for healing, or comfort in loss, or sending someone off or whatever—and the pastor, elder, or one doing the announcement can invite anyone to come to the elders for that, and in some cases, the whole congregation, or some larger group among them, can lay hands on such a one. Yet for the pastor to be expected to weekly open up the floor to prayers strains his attention from the details of the service to being able to recall names on the spot, hear distant voices, be familiar with medical terminology, matching his voice and facial expressions to each circumstance, often changing on the dime, and again, all raising the question to the visitor who has almost never seen this done in the middle of a service as to whether he fits. Even members can take offense if an announcement or a prayer is miscommunicated or excluded on occasion.

I have heard a few people say, “Yes, yes, all true, and come to think of it, that obviously could not be done in a church even slightly bigger.” I suspect it begins to dawn on them in the very next thought that this observation is also a projection. A church that currently does so and knows that it cannot in that next step is a church that is planning (whether it is aware or not) to not take that next step. If a thing can be done in this smaller bubble and not in the more expanded community, then that thing simply is not compatible with the next stage. This is not true of preaching and teaching, or sacraments or singing. But it is true of any communication in the service in which the individual is singled out and interacts with the pastor, apart from the whole, in an unscripted manner.

A Whole-Body Bubble-Bursting

It takes the whole body (1 Corinthians 12) for a building expansion (1 Peter 2:5). Those are only metaphors, but they are biblical metaphors. We are not speaking of mere physical buildings here but of adding to the harvest of souls, to use another biblical metaphor. While churches can grow with not everyone quite on board, it certainly makes it more efficient to have all hands on deck, or at least to have unity about that goal.

A crucial first step is the multiplication of leaders able to bear the load. Paul tells Timothy, “what you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses entrust to faithful men, who will be able to teach others also” (2 Tim. 2:2).

Likewise, those first deacons chosen in Jerusalem were specifically sought for the purpose of load-shifting—that is, freeing the elders up to focus on “prayer and to the ministry of the word” (Acts 6:4). And what was the result? “And the word of God continued to increase, and the number of the disciples multiplied greatly in Jerusalem, and a great many of the priests became obedient to the faith” (v. 7). In other words, outsiders could flow inward with more “load-bearing” pillars being able to bear the weight.

A whole-body bursting of the inside-outsider bubble is also a matter of demographic awareness. This is not something we should concede to the secular culture, as if we are talking about politically correct “sensitivity training,” or forcing on the dominant demographic something which is simply not there. Yet ordinary Christian love is intentional to include those with various physical handicaps, chronic illnesses, and those on the spectrum now often called neurodivergent. It will also apply Paul’s words concerning “corrupting talk” or “foolish talk” or “crude joking” (Eph. 4:29, 5:4) to obvious matters distinguishing the sexes and ethnic groups. But there is also age-discrimination that is inwardly driven.

Another mistake of the Seeker methodology was talking about obstacles to growth as if it were merely a generational problem. This subtly devalued elderly Christians, who younger Christians desperately need around for the wisdom that they can pass down as well as the opportunity to serve.

Introverts and extroverts (and others who are mutts in that regard, like myself) are all valuable parts of the body of Christ. I have been reliably informed that the real difference between introversion and extroversion is not the degree to which one is either gregarious or shy, confident or bookish. Rather, it has to do with the source of one’s energy. Is one “recharged” working the room or away from the noise? This is actually quite relevant to our task of bursting this bubble. I have witnessed many situations in which a servant in the church opposed some new initiative for no other reason than that they themselves would be expected to stretch themselves in, or allow others in on, their own terrain. Aside from the pride that this conceals of one’s “own” place in the body, the other thing concealed under the surface is exhaustion—either already present or else potential.

The new co-laborer or new activity or new demographic represents an unwelcome burden being placed on the back of the one resisting. However, no such burden is required. The right hand needs to welcome not only the new task, but also the left hand to help take it up. Wherever someone is bearing too much of a load, they need to make that need—personal scheduling, budgeting for a resource, someone unduly taking advantage of a service, etc.—known to the elders, rather than stewing on it and then using that ongoing problem as counter evidence against the growth. It is usually something that can be addressed right away.

I mentioned a kind of course talk, but there is also untimely talk even about important and righteous matters. There is a whole chapter in the Bible about this. Actually more than a chapter. It is Romans 14:1 to 15:7. The upshot is to welcome everyone, but not to make them stumble over what amount to secondary issues. There are some things that we must insist upon. If someone stumbles over the cross, then that is the very thing God has designed them to stumble over.

However, there are those matters a kin to the meat sacrificed to idols, drink, and the observance of days (those were the examples Paul was dealing with). For us it could be any number of things that we have come to call adiaphora, or “matters indifferent.” We may even debate these things vigorously between brothers and sisters, but to place these as roadblocks to the newcomer is not an indication of boldness, but of foolishness.

Let us hold our positions without hesitation, but let us not be weird, much less insulting. We must make a study of which subjects, or by what lines of inquiry, constitute what Richard Sibbes called “unseasonable truths.”1

In Conclusion

There is no virtue in staying small as an end in itself.

The real issue is forcing it. Are we forcing something to happen that is not there in the pursuit of growth, or are we forcing against something that is there in the pursuit of some form of seriousness? We seldom realize that both of these are forcing the matter. Both of these are a stubborn resistance to something God is doing.

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1. Richard Sibbes, The Bruised Reed (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 2005), 28.