A Letter From a Twentysomething

I’m just finishing Sarah Cunningham’s “Dear Church”, subtitled “Letters from a Disillusioned Generation”. These fourteen rather raw letters do not make for easy reading for someone who has committed nearly thirty years to serving the church in a pastoral role. It would be easy to become immediately defensive (which happens when your identity becomes more and more aligned with the church you have poured yourself into). It would also be simple to dismiss it as just another disaffected person who expects the church to be perfect. Just another self absorbed twentysomething that needs to quit complaining and join hands with the rest of us. But actually, I really liked a lot of her thoughts, and my guess is Sarah is verbalizing what a number of people in a younger generation in my church are hesitant to say to me in person.

Maybe I am also not too put off, for I once was an idealistic twentysomething wanting to change the world. I was on a university campus in the sixties and seventies, having my arguments with campus radicals like the SDS and joining with other Christians in a quest to change the world. I’d still like to think I am still about this, only I have embraced the church as the place to do it. I am still convinced the church is the hope of the world, just as I am convinced that training tomorrow’s leaders in a seminary setting is the hope of the church.

Helpful in the book is the description of disillusioned twentysomethings. Here are some: Twentysomethings want to feel connected, value family, community—and see individualism as deepening human poverty. They want things now, and are impatient with things that cannot be resolved right away. They like technology, but do not want it to replace real live people with stories that speak to the human condition. They are idealistic, and hunger for a church to give them meaningful responsibility. They are transparent, respecting leaders courageous enough to share their true struggles. They have hypersensitive internal sensors when it comes to authenticity. They are slow to formally commit, but will be loyal investors in the end. They value diversity and inclusion, and are disillusioned with the fact only 5% of Protestant congregations are multiracial. In sum, they are frustrated that the church falls short of the radical community God intended it to be.

What I hear is something like this. Whatever we do as a church, make sure we never sacrifice community for size. Leaders, be careful in making decisions, but don’t let the church languish in endless discussions, analysis paralysis. Get on with it. Take the risk!  Let people share their stories. We need to hear from each other in worship—not just from a pulpit voice. Be yourself—don’t try to be trendy, cutting edge for the sake of being cool. Be patient and less critical, even if a younger generation isn’t on board yet. Read the gospel over and over, measuring the church by what Jesus did.

Cunningham is not afraid to admit her own disillusionment with disillusionment, and the tendency to idolize, let it monopolize her head. She understands a lot of imperfect things are going to happen in a church. Going to another church will eventually mean trading one set of flaws for a different set of flaws. How I wish people understood this, especially those who leave after you have poured so much into them.

If I have one disappointment, it would be that the book did not make a more compelling argument for committing to one another, despite the inevitable disappointments. I am this thirtysomething in a fiftysomething body with this undying hope that the diversity twentysomethings love can include age, and that together we will listen to one another and grow and press the church to be this fermenting wine of Jesus, in structures that continue to change—structures that are always the servant, not the master. Trite as this may sound, we need each other if the church will have a significant future.