What we would do if we took discipleship seriously, Part 3

By Rev. Kathy Neary and Patrick Scriven

Kathy Neary: Hi Patrick, I understand you have an alternative idea to my drastic idea of “close 90% of our churches and turn the other 10% into Discipleship Centers.” Before we jump in, would you please introduce yourself to our readers and tell us a little about why you care about the future of The UMC?

Patrick Scriven: I’d be happy to.

I was raised in the Midwest in a family that attended church weekly. The particular church we attended was often a moving target, as my mother was always searching for something spiritually that felt just out of reach.

So, I was baptized Catholic, confirmed in the ELCA, and later re-baptized by Pentecostals while exploring more Evangelical expressions of Christianity.

After college, I attended a seminary related to the American Baptists and the United Church of Christ, where at least a third of the students were Unitarian Universalists.

In 2000, I graduated from seminary, and we moved from Boston to Vancouver, WA. Soon after, I was hired as a youth director at Vancouver First UMC, and I’ve worked in The United Methodist Church ever since. This is my 18th year working for the conference.

Because my childhood involved close to a dozen churches, I’ve appreciated the consistency of our connection. I also value our desire—sometimes aspirational, of course—to be a place for all.

In practical terms, United Methodism meant my wife, who grew up in traditions that limited women’s leadership, could respond fully to her calling and become a pastor. And yes, that has still meant an adult life spent in multiple churches, because life as a clergy spouse keeps you on the move.

KN: Please tell us about your idea for addressing the decline in our ability to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world.

PS: I’ll grant your fundamental critique. Many of our congregations have de-centered discipleship and spiritual formation. We’ve poured enormous effort into maintaining Sunday worship and keeping the institution afloat, while the slow, demanding work of forming disciples often becomes an optional add-on. In that sense, the alarm is worth sounding.

Where I part company is with the conclusion that the congregational model itself is the obstacle. The problem isn’t that we have churches. The problem is that we have too many churches operating with too little capacity—stretched so thin that “doing church” consumes the energy that could go toward becoming disciples.

If we want to take discipleship seriously, we should stop spreading our resources like butter scraped over too much bread. Instead of replacing congregations with a new structure, we should consolidate for capacity: fewer churches, but well-resourced enough to offer the whole ecosystem of Christian life. Offering, planning, and supporting worship, formation, pastoral care, and local witness requires more than one overextended pastor and a handful of volunteers; it requires a team.

How many fewer churches?  I feel like I am naming the reality of needing to close 90% of our churches, while you are skirting the issue.

Moving boldly will require change, and some of that change will involve the closure of existing congregations. Still, this concept would repurpose, reset, and realign rather than close a significant portion of that 90%. I think there is a lot of work, study, planning and prayer that would need to be done before I’d throw a number on it.

So, here’s what this model could look like. If it sounds familiar, it’s because we have flirted with similar ideas, without boldly investing in them.

First, we identify a smaller number of “hub” congregations. These would be places positioned by geography, leadership, facilities, and missional opportunity to be strong centers of worship and formation. A hub should be capable of sustaining the kind of community we say we want, not merely inheriting the responsibilities we’ve always carried.

Second, we stop imagining that every existing property must function as a fully independent congregation. Some sites can become worshiping satellites, still gathering locally, but less frequently, often lay-led, with clergy support in the larger cluster to which they belong.

Third, other sites can become ministry outposts. Their neighborhood footprint would prioritize community partnerships to address and deliver services such as food security, tutoring, recovery support, and immigrant services, without taking on the full weekly workload of congregational programming.

And some properties will need to become mission assets: shared, leased, or sold, so buildings serve the community while generating revenue for disciple-making work across the connection.

Presence matters. But presence doesn’t have to look identical everywhere.

Again, unless we close a significant number of churches, we will still be spreading our clergy too thin, especially those assigned to lead the hubs. Because this job will rapidly morph into running the satellites like the traditional churches we are trying to replace.

That is a valid concern, Kathy, but I don’t think it is insurmountable. Such an approach would demand additional staffing to ensure a new culture takes root. At least some of this work is making space for grief. Letting go is hard, especially when the loss is unnamed or not honored.

At the end of the day, math tells us that a significant number of our churches will close in the next 10-20 years. We still have some agency in deciding how and toward what purpose, but that agency diminishes with every passing year.

We need to remind ourselves that while some will resist change, others will be liberated by renewed purpose and relieved that it isn’t all on them to save the church.

What would keep most of our people from choosing to attend a worshiping satellite on Sunday mornings and doing nothing else?

If we’re honest, nothing “keeps” them. Many people already practice a thin version of church, mostly Sunday attendance (and yep, sometimes not even weekly). So yes, some current members would likely make that choice. And I would argue that this can be a faithful choice, at certain stages of life.

The challenge is to build a system in which satellites naturally feed the hub’s pathway without shaming people or requiring heroics. That means the satellite gathering isn’t an alternative to formation; it is a gateway to it.

With care, a satellite can be a front porch, a place of belonging and worship that stays accessible and local. A shared rule of life is taught and practiced at both the satellite and the hub. Simple, repeatable invitations guide people deeper. Barriers to participation in hub ministries are lowered through home groups, hybrid options, seasonal cohorts, ride-sharing, and childcare support.

The goal with hubs and satellites is to meet people where they are, both in their formation and geographically, without leaving them isolated in either. With reorganization and renewed focus, hubs and satellites can serve distinct yet complementary roles within a shared discipleship ecosystem. Together, they allow us to remain present in communities while also offering deeper formation than many congregations can currently sustain alone.

Change of this magnitude will not be easy, and it will not be embraced by everyone. But neither is the slow exhaustion so many leaders and congregations are already experiencing.

The choice before us is whether we continue spreading ourselves thinner, or whether we courageously realign for capacity, clarity, and purpose. If we choose the latter, we may yet rediscover what it means to be a church that forms disciples together, faithfully, and with hope.

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Rev. Kathy Neary serves as Transitional Ministry Developer for the Pacific Northwest (PNW) Conference of The United Methodist Church. She is in dialogue for this series with Patrick Scriven who serves as Director of Communications for the PNW Conference.