Making Worship Visitor Friendly

I suppose in earlier generations most preachers could assume their listeners conferred to them a certain level of authority. Many preachers could also assume their congregations had a minimal level of biblical knowledge.

Today I take nothing for granted. I assume virtually everyone will question virtually everything I say. Furthermore, I assume most listeners know little if anything about the Bible.

But how do you establish authority with a group that grew up on the maxim, “Question authority”? I’ve discovered such people will view me as credible if I do the following:

Let the people do some talking. On Saturday evenings, we always take five to eight minutes to let someone share what God has done in his or her life. Listeners will accept my message if they see that it makes a difference for someone who doesn’t get paid to spread religion.

I recently renewed the vows of a couple who had been on the brink of divorce. The husband had been living with another woman for more than a year. The divorce decree was about to be granted when they started attending Saturday night services independently. They both ended up committing their lives to Christ.

The husband soon broke up with the woman with whom he had been living. The estranged couple began talking again. They eventually decided, “Hey, if God can forgive us, we can forgive each other. Let’s start over again.”

So in front of their unbelieving friends, they renewed their vows. I went to the reception afterward. It was fascinating to hear their unsaved friends try to figure out what had happened to this couple. Out of that experience, several of them began attending our Saturday night service. They couldn’t deny the difference Christ had made in the lives of these two people.

Practice what you preach. The Scriptures say we can silence the foolishness of ignorant people by our good behavior. That involves going places Christ would and spending time with people he would. I’ve said from our pulpit that if Christ were in my city today, he probably wouldn’t attend my church. He would be down among the poor and dispossessed.

That’s one reason we’ve gotten involved helping people dying of AIDS. When the AIDS resource center of Grand Rapids hosts its annual Christmas party downtown, some of us from our church attend. Such events are a great opportunity for ministry. At one of those parties, I met a woman dying of AIDS who had two children also diagnosed with the virus. I was able to talk with her about Christ’s love.

Our church donates money to cover burial costs for those who die of the disease without funds. In addition, each Christmas the AIDS resource center gives us a list of names of people suffering from the disease (first names only, because they wish to remain anonymous) and a wish list that we distribute to our people. We gather the gifts, and when we give them, the recipients know it’s Calvary Church that donates the presents.

Our involvement with AIDS sufferers has built credibility. It’s not uncommon for our Saturday night services to attract large numbers of seekers from the gay community. Women have stood and said, “I’m a former lesbian. Christ changed my life through this church.”

Accept people as they are. One Sunday morning a man walked into our morning service with the F-word printed on his T-shirt. That wasn’t easy for many to tolerate. As I heard later, when people stood to sing the first hymn, many couldn’t get their minds off his shirt.

But as inappropriate as wearing that shirt was, it was important that we accepted that man in that condition. When the church requires that people clean up their lives, dress, and act a certain way before we will love them, we lose the respect of our culture.

So I remind our congregation that Jesus showed compassion to a maniac living naked among the tombs. Christ cared about him just as he was. So anything above nakedness ought to be acceptable dress code in our midst.

One evening I presented a man to the board who was wearing his hair in a long rat tail. He had contracted AIDS through years of intravenous drug use. He began attending our Saturday night service shortly after accepting the Lord.

“I don’t know how much time I have left,” he told board members, “but what time I do have I want to live for the Lord.” By the time he finished, all board members were weeping. They gathered around him, laid hands on him, and prayed for his future.

Any church that practices that type of Christianity will win the respect of outsiders and gain a platform to be heard.

Keep the playing field level. Someone once complained that our church was soon going to be overrun with homosexuals. I responded, “That would be terrific. They could take a seat next to the gossips, the envious, the greedy, and all the rest of us sinners.”

I try to communicate that same attitude in my preaching: We all stand under God’s judgment, and we all are in desperate need of his grace. Letting people know that I’m not speaking down to them from some lofty moral position helps them listen to what I have to say.

Don’t pretend to play God. I have to be honest with people when I don’t know the answers to their questions. A woman once asked, “Where was God when my father was molesting me?”

“I wish I knew where he was during your ordeal,” I answered. “I just don’t know. But I do know this: God loves you and wants to heal the wounds of your past.” It’s ironic, but not having all the answers helps people better trust the answers I do have.

Use the culture to introduce good news. Secular people know popular music, entertainment, and news media. So I’ve used such worlds to help make the Christian case. In my messages on Saturday nights, I cite secular studies, read from news sources, and quote from popular music to bridge the listeners’ world to the Scriptures.

On the night I addressed the theme “Is there something in this world to believe in?” I showed the music video, Give Me Something to Believe In by the rock group Poison.

On another night, I used John Lennon’s famous song “Imagine.” I asked the audience to imagine a world with no competing religions, no wars, no fights, where complete peace and harmony reigned. “Will there ever be such a place?” I asked. “Such a world is possible only through Jesus Christ, who gives us personal peace and changes hatred into love.”

One evening we showed a film clip (with the unsavory language edited out) from a Burt Reynolds film, The End. It’s about a man with terminal cancer who is afraid to die. He keeps trying to commit suicide but chickens out at the last moment. His prayers of desperation resonate with the fears most people carry of death.

Explode stereotypes. People in our culture hold many misperceptions about Christians. When I explode those negative stereotypes, primarily with humor, and perhaps satirize now and then the real foibles of Christians, I gain credibility.

One Easter morning, knowing many unchurched people would be in the audience, I wore my doctoral robes to the pulpit. Standing in this long, flowing black robe, I began my message, “In case you’re watching by television this morning, I’m not Robert Schuller. This is Calvary Church.” Once the laughter died down, I pointed to the various parts of this beautiful robe—the colors, the hood, the sleeves— and explained what each symbolized. Then I unzipped the robe and stepped out in a T-shirt and blue jeans. People gasped.

“On Easter Sunday, we all put on our robes,” I said. “By that I mean we all get dressed up. We all put on our best image. But underneath all the hype, at the blue-jeans level, we often are very different people. We need to ask, ‘Does Easter make a difference?'”

On another Sunday, I tied my hair, which I had let grow, in a pony tail. The idea that Christians ought to look and dress a certain way was another stereotype on my hit list. In a community as conservative as ours, that was pushing the envelope.

I finished my sermon, “I’m sure some of you are outraged that I wore my hair in a pony tail. But are you just as upset that your neighbors don’t know the Lord? We get bent out of shape over things that have no eternal significance. But can we get equally agitated over people dying of starvation and millions who have never heard the gospel?

“I’m going to cut off my pony tail this week. My question to you is ‘What are you going to do to show compassion to this world?'”

When I was a young pastor of a Baptist church in the mountains of Virginia, we started with only thirty-three people. Seeker sensitive wasn’t even a term then. Instead we used gimmicks such as “Water Gun Sunday.” But the leading moonshine bootlegger in that area came to know Christ. Soon his wife and children became believers. One Sunday, I counted fifty people he had brought with him.

Reaching out to committed unbelievers is a great challenge requiring creativity and dedication. Sometimes the results are slow in coming; sometimes we have to endure a lot of misunderstanding and hostility. But sometimes the results are remarkable.

Visitors can be made to feel welcome without name tags, official greeters, or special recognition.
—Don Cousins

If you visit Willow Creek Community Church, don’t be surprised if no one asks your name. You won’t be given a name tag, and you won’t be asked to stand or raise your hand as a new person. No one will even give you a form to fill out for a follow-up contact.

Don’t we care about visitors? Of course we do. Don’t we want them to come back? Sure! In fact, it’s because we want them to return that we try not to pressure them on their first visit.

Let me explain with a personal example. I grew up in a nondenominational church. When I went away to college, I visited churches of various denominations. I soon learned that my home church was similar to most Baptist, Presbyterian, Lutheran, and other denominational churches. Even as a visitor, I knew pretty much what to expect—how I should dress, what information would be in the bulletins, and how to respond to the greeters. I fit right in.

Then a friend invited me to a Catholic Mass, a first for me. I felt anxious about attending, and the reasons soon bore themselves out. As the service unfolded, people were standing up, sitting down, and singing (similar to other churches I had attended), but this time I was completely lost. At one point, the priest came down the aisle, waving what looked to be a large saltshaker. As he swung it in my direction, three or four drops of water hit my face. I had no idea what was happening.

Of course, all of this was perfectly normal for my Catholic friend. But to me, it was not normal. What was expected of me? Was I doing anything improper? My insecurity multiplied when I couldn’t anticipate or understand the order of events.

I’d been a comfortable visitor at the other churches. At this service, I was an outsider.

That distinction makes a huge difference in the way people feel when they attend church, and it has shaped the way we’ve tried to approach those who visit our church.

Ins and outs

We think of visitors in two major categories. First, we expect a lot of insiders, people who understand traditional church subculture. They know what to expect before they walk through the door.

The second group I’ll refer to as outsiders. They have no idea what takes place during a church service. Many don’t know the basic beliefs of the Christian faith. It’s easy for this group to feel anxious about their first visit. It’s the fear of the unknown.

Some churches regularly receive visitors from both groups, insiders and outsiders. Our church, for example, has visitors each week who are Jewish, Catholic, Hindu, or completely unchurched. Many of these first-timers are uncomfortable with even our basic songs and prayers, not to mention the suspicion that they might be asked to speak or to find a Bible verse.

Conversely, traditional methods of greeting are acceptable to insiders. These people expect to stand and be recognized, to meet several of the regular members, and to respond to other church customs.

Potential problems surface when the service regularly tries to accommodate both insiders and outsiders. Should the church risk subjecting outsiders to discomfort in order to make visiting insiders feel welcome? Or is it better to do everything possible to reduce the anxiety of visiting outsiders, even though insiders may tend to feel overlooked?

As we faced this dilemma, we finally decided to place more consideration on the feelings of the outsiders, without writing off the insiders. Experience shows us that visitors can be made to feel welcome without the name tags, official greeters, or special recognition. The objective of making a visitor feel welcome has been one of our driving goals. Let me take you through what we hope is a first-timer’s experience at Willow Creek.

Anxiety reduction

Our attempt to make people feel comfortable by reducing anxiety begins in the parking lot. Friendly attendants show visitors where to park. We try to prevent confusing hassles, whether they involve searching for parking places or wondering which door to enter.

Inside each entrance of the church are two or three greeters. They offer a “Good morning” or “Hello,” and try to spot people who look disoriented. They give directions when needed, help newcomers guide their children to the appropriate locations, and generally direct incoming people toward the auditorium.

As people enter the auditorium, they receive a program. (Our references to auditorium/program rather than sanctuary/bulletin are intentional; they reflect the language of our nonchurched visitors.) The program clearly outlines the order of the events, and it includes only announcements that might be of interest to outsiders. (Insiders also attend a church service on Wednesday nights, where they receive a program geared to reach regular church attenders.) Ushers guide people to open sections rather than specific seats, so they are free to sit where they wish and claim their own space. Our auditorium has theater-type seats rather than pews. (First-timers don’t have to worry that some stranger will slide up against them.)

We also strive to keep anxiety to a minimum with the service itself. The first thirty minutes of our service are allotted for programming such as a short Scripture reading to introduce the topic of the day, a drama, and a short, easy song or chorus that even first-timers can learn effortlessly. After the chorus, during which people are standing, we say something such as, “As you’re seated, turn and greet some of the people around you.” We don’t distinguish members and visitors. It’s just a time for a brief and friendly interchange.

Only after these attempts to reduce the anxiety of our visitors do we formally acknowledge them. During the announcements (about twenty minutes into the service), we tell them we consider visitors our welcome guests we want to serve. If they want to find out more about our church, we give them the options of: (1) stopping by a counter in the lobby for more information as they leave; (2) being contacted later, which they can arrange by filling in a section of the program and dropping into the offering plate; or (3) calling the church at the number listed in their program. Our program also includes an invitation to our Wednesday night service if they want to take the next step in their spiritual life.

We don’t pressure visitors any further. We try to take the first step in their direction. Then, when they’re ready to take a step toward us, we’ll take another step. Our goal is for visitors to think, That wasn’t so bad!

Intangible overtures

Instead of focusing on the tangible overtures to visitors—name tags, address forms, the firm handshake of a greeter—we strive to achieve two important intangibles.

The first is warmth. When you enter someone’s home for the first time, you can tell within fifteen seconds whether the living room creates warm or cold impressions. You may not be able to explain how you know, but you do.

The same is true for churches. It’s possible to be nametagged, greeted numerous times, and asked to stand—all in the name of friendliness—only to go home with the impression that the church you visited left you cold. So here are a few things we do to try to warm the atmosphere.

Greeters. We train our greeters and ushers in how to make people feel comfortable, and to be comfortable themselves. I’ve seen churches where some of the volunteers were willing servants but made curiously inappropriate greeters (people with perpetual scowls, arrogant attitudes, or overbearing dispositions). And I’ve come to believe it’s better to do without than to have greeters who overwhelm, alienate, or intimidate newcomers.

The building. Most congregations have a person or two with interior decorating talent. We sought these people and asked them to suggest ways to warm up the church through interior appointments, plants, auditorium banners, and so forth. This is one area where smaller churches can be particularly effective, because many larger church buildings often have more of a corporate feel.

People also appreciate a clean, well-maintained building. Research shows that cleanliness outscored the thrill of the attractions and friendliness of employees as the number-one draw at Walt Disney World. It means a lot to church visitors, too. Problems such as cracked paint, litter, dirt, ugly trash cans, and other unkempt items can destroy a warm image.

Music. Most church music leaders plan their preludes, hymns, offertories, and choral selections. They also include long, reverential pauses for prayer and brief silences during transitions. But what some don’t realize is that almost any length of silence can be uncomfortable for visitors. So we try to utilize pleasant background music prior to the service, during transitions, and anywhere else it might reduce anxiety.

Prayer. The way people pray communicates how they relate to God. When congregational prayers are simple, basic, and conversational, God may not seem so foreign to visitors.

Miscellaneous elements. Several other components can help create warmth: (1) Humor is effective in bringing down defenses, though it is important to select appropriate times and people to make it work naturally. (2) Visitors can feel uncomfortable when leaders seem anxious. But if an inexperienced speaker or singer admits nervousness, those in the congregation won’t be so likely to feel uneasy when his voice quivers or her hands shake. (3) When an unexpected event takes place (such as a loud sneeze), a spontaneous response from the pulpit (perhaps a “God bless you”) demonstrates warmth. (4) While clothing, in itself, may not generate much warmth for your church, it can become a barrier if newcomers perceive your leaders as either too tailored or too tattered.

A second intangible is electricity. If you’ve ever walked into a football stadium full of excited people waiting for a game to begin, you’ve no doubt experienced that “special something” in the air. The power of anticipation surges through such a place, and you feel as if you belong, even though you may not know a soul. You sense a common bond of expectation.

Churches also can create that exciting sensation. While it’s a little more difficult to generate electricity than to promote warmth, as we consider the possibilities in our church, we keep three things in mind:

The importance of creativity. If the order of events is much the same from one week to the next, people may not try too hard to attend regularly. The feeling is similar to watching a taped football game, knowing the final score ahead of time. The element of the unknown is lost. We want people to walk into our church with a sense of anticipation, wondering what’s going to be different this week.

First impressions. The first fifteen minutes of a service are extremely important. If you traditionally start slowly or tend to get the announcements “out of the way” first, it’s hard to pick up the momentum. We try to start strong, usually with music, and then vary the intensity level for the individual elements of the service.

The scope of the service. It’s better to do a few things well than a lot of things poorly. Electricity is not the result of trying to do something more and bigger each week. A simple song with piano accompaniment likely will be more effective than an unrehearsed full ensemble.

The presence of warmth and electricity will speak volumes about a church and God. Even when omitting the traditional means of greeting, visitors can feel welcome and leave with a satisfied feeling that they would like to return.

System convert

Does our system work? Most people like it, although we occasionally get complaints from insiders who didn’t feel as welcomed as expected. But outsider Lee Strobel endorsed our system.

Lee was an atheist when he first came to Willow Creek. He recalls, “I didn’t like traditional church services, and my number-one desire was anonymity. I didn’t want to be singled out, smothered with affection, or forced to sign anything. As the legal affairs editor of the Chicago Tribune, I even carried my reporter’s notebook so I could brush off anyone who tried to get too personal with me.”

But Lee became a Christian. The anonymity we provided gave him the time to investigate Christianity at his own pace. Knowing he wouldn’t be embarrassed at a service, he kept coming back. And by coming, he learned. Lee says he liked having control over when he would take the next step.

How do I know so much about Lee? Because a few years after becoming a Christian, he wholeheartedly traded in his lifelong passion as a journalist to join our staff. He began as director of service activities, which put him in charge of making good first impressions on newcomers. Today he is director of communications, where he uses his experience as a journalist, and teaching pastor.

As leaders, we evaluate our church as a newcomer would. Where we find “traditions” that might cause anxiety or self-consciousness, we try to substitute new ways to yield warmth and electricity.

We want first-timers to leave our services not only with the spoken message that God cares, but also with the unspoken message that we care. If we’re unsuccessful the first time, we may not have another opportunity.