Six months ago we moved to a new town. On the day of the big arrival, our home was buzzing with a small army of box-carrying good Samaritans, many of whom we were just meeting.
It was getting close to lunchtime, and I wanted to reward our new friends with sustenance; which in the time-honored tradition of moving day in America, means pizza.
In the hallway, I stopped one of the students I knew well, and asked him for the best place in the area to get a good pie. (As an Italian in a new town, this was as critical as finding a good doctor or trustworthy mechanic, perhaps more so).
He proceeded to give me the name of one of the giant national pizza chains.
I looked at him with stunned silence… and then I kicked him out of my house.
Don’t get me wrong, those big guys crank out a respectable enough product, but’s it’s a version of pizza that’s been specifically designed for mass production; one whose ingredients have been altered and tweaked enough to cater to the greatest possible percentage of the population. It’s cheap, dependable, and ubiquitous. For those who aren’t adventurous with their meals, it’s a safe bet.
I’m more a fan of the mom and pop pizza place; one that gives you food that is also art; a crust that’s been lovingly refined and perfected over the years; a sauce recipe that’s been in the family for decades; a place where the food isn’t just the product of an efficient assembly line, but a unique, specific, local reflection of its owner.
Sadly, the Church in America is slowly being franchised-out.
All over the landscape of this country, hundreds and hundreds of “mom and pop” churches are closing their doors; victims of changing demographics, loss of funding, and the flight of the population to larger, shinier, megachurches: the Big Box stores of the religious world.
People are being drawn to the size, the professionalism, the amenities, the numbers, and the impressive overall package found in these new multi-site faith communities; ones which offer similar perks of the big chain pizza places: something good, reliable, and convenient.
These places aren’t bad at all, but much like the franchises that are taking over our bookstores, cofeeshops, and hardware stores; we’re losing something. Our individual communities are losing their character, their originality, and the beauty of real diversity.
In other words; there’s a very real cost to the Starbuck-ing of Christianity.
If you look carefully at the vast percentage of large churches in America, you’ll notice a marked sameness; in the coolness of their names, in the slickness of the their websites, in the content of their mission statements, in their faux-industrial worship spaces, and in their stage shows, ministry menus, and coffee bars.
They’re not bad by any means, but they’re all essentially becoming just a variation on a theme; they’re faith created, refined, and marketed for mass consumption.
Certainly the fact that millions of people are being reached by these large entities, merits gladness; and of course, lots of faithful, talented, created, passionate people do really great ministry there. These giant churches are serving tons of people.
I can’t help thinking though, that our Christianity in America is losing something, little by little; that as large, modern churches become the rule in our spiritual landscape, we’re sacrificing the unique, special, artisan expression of Jesus that can only be found in the small and the personal.
There’s absolutely nothing wrong with shopping at a big box store and picking-up a nationally-known pizza on the way home, but I’ve always believed in “shopping local”, and in supporting the little guy. It’s about retaining something intangible; something elemental; something worth holding onto.
When it comes to our communities of faith; here’s hoping that we never lose our appreciation for the little guy.
Worship local.
