Small Group Aversion

Mt. Tam Christian Community had a casual, laid-back atmosphere (as described in a previous post), but Bart, its pastor, was deadly serious about that word “community.” Bart pictured church as a close-knit family of believers whose mutual love and support served as a magnet to the lost world around them. An admirable goal, to be sure, but given my introverted nature, I wasn’t always comfortable with the practical applications of this vision.

Take, for instance, Bart’s pre-sermon ritual. Before preaching, he had everyone break up into groups of 4 or 5, form their chairs into a circle, and discuss a series of probing questions about their spiritual lives. This practice was disturbing on several levels. First, it felt a little weird to be chatting away in the middle of a worship service. Childhood attempts to engage in this activity had left me at the business end of my mother’s elbow, and my ribs had been slow to forget these inducements to silence.

But the real problem, it must be admitted, was Bart’s questions themselves. They really were probing. For some reason, he wasn’t content to offer up a few harmless ice-breakers like, “Where did you go on your last vacation?” Instead, his queries were more along the lines of . . .

Describe a time when you felt spiritually/emotionally destitute. How did God meet you in that moment?

Such questions presupposed that I was of sufficient spiritual depth to arrive at a meaningful answer and, having formulated such an answer, was inclined to share it with a handful of underdressed strangers. Since both these assumptions were plainly false, I usually made a well-timed trip to the bathroom right before the interrogation.

Bart, however, had more community-building tricks up his sleeve. During the week, the church offered several “family groups” that met in various homes around Marin County, the purpose of which was to further expose us to probing questions about our spiritual lives. A friend from seminary who tried one of these small groups came back raving about the experience. “It’s not your average Bible study, Steve,” he gushed. “We really get to know each other.”

“I’ll bet you do,” I replied. “But I don’t think I could hide in the bathroom for 2 hours.”

Little did I know that, in one of life’s strange little ironies, I would someday be in charge of the church’s small group ministry. But that’s a story for another day.