Part-Time is Plenty: Thriving without Full-Time Clergy

By G. Jeffrey MacDonald

Churches experiencing numerical and financial decline may dread the day when they can no longer afford a full-time pastor. Freeing up funds that would go to a full-time salary sure would help the budgetmaybe even enough to turn things aroundbut is it even possible to run effective ministries with just a half- or quarter-time professional? Journalist and part-time pastor Jeffrey MacDonald says yeschurches can grow more vibrant than ever, tapping into latent energy and undiscovered gifts, revitalizing worship, and engaging in more effective ministry with the community.Readers get a much-needed playbook forhelping congregations to thrive with a part-time ministry model. They learn to see the model in a new light: to stop viewing part-time as a problem to be eradicated and to instead embrace it as a divine gift that facilitates a higher level of lay engagement, responsibility, playfulness, and creativity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Westminster John Knox Press
• Release date: Apr 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781611649932

G. Jeffrey MacDonald

G. Jeffrey MacDonald is a part-time United Church of Christ pastor and full-time freelance journalist whose reporting on religion has garnered nineteen national awards, and his previous book Thieves in the Temple: The Christian Church and the Selling of the American Soulreceived third place for Religion Nonfiction Book of the Year from the Religion News Association.

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INTRODUCTION

From the outside, First Parish Church (United Church of Christ) in Newbury, Massachusetts, appeared to be chugging along reasonably well after 377 years of ministry. A small group of faithful souls still gathered every Sunday morning. A preschool met in the downstairs hall on weekdays. More than forty area residents tended organic gardens out back in what had become a model project of land recovery and stewardship. Sure, the building needed a paint job, but that seemed minor . . . except that it was symptomatic of a larger problem that was fueling conflict and rapidly imperiling the church’s survival.

First Parish was hemorrhaging money for one main reason: it couldn’t afford its full-time pastor. Clergy compensation (salary, housing allowance, and benefits) was costing the church nearly six figures a year, yet weekly offerings totaled only a fraction of what was needed. So great was the discrepancy that, together with some hefty building expenses, the weight of full-time compensation hastened the depletion of a $575,000 endowment fund in less than four years. Finally, as Christmas approached in 2012, there was nothing left to spend. Bills were piling up. The pastor quit suddenly. Despondent parishioners prepared to disband. I received a call in my capacity as a supply preacher. Was I available to lead a few final worship services? Saddened to hear this historic church was so near its end, I agreed to help out however I could.

I’d been there a few weeks when the congregation changed its mind and decided to continue in ministry—albeit with a radically different ministry model. The pastorate would be slashed from forty hours to ten hours a week. The church administrator position would be eliminated entirely. Because I have a full-time job as a writer, I was financially able to consider this part-time call when the church offered it to me. But parishioners and I harbored many of the same questions: How could the church possibly do effective, impactful ministry without a full-time pastor? Who would organize programs, lead adult education groups, represent the church at community events, visit the sick at home and in the hospital, and perform many other ministry tasks?

None of us had any idea how this would happen, especially in a church that had long relied on a full-time pastor to do all those things and more. But the church’s only choice, it seemed, was either to try a part-time model or close down a ministry begun in 1635. With more than a little hope and prayer, we decided to try.

It gives me joy to report that eight years later, First Parish is thriving by several measures in Newbury, and I’m still in the pulpit part-time. Finances are stable with budgets balanced (mostly) and a gift that helped restart an endowment fund. Thanks to many dedicated volunteers, our four-year-old food pantry feeds upward of 150 people a week. But I’m no rescue hero or turnaround guru with a tale of personal prowess to tell. On the contrary, I’ve been learning from other congregations what I wish I’d known—and what all of us wish First Parish had known before I arrived. Congregations can experience more vitality, not less, after switching to part-time clergy. They can get there by following a few tested steps and principles, no matter where they’re located or what denomination they belong to. How I wish we’d had their insights when we embarked on this journey in 2012.

But they were hidden. I know because I looked online, in bookstores, and in libraries. What was written about part-time ministry was largely focused on the pastor in the vein of encouragement for labor in the vineyard, for instance, or tips for how to juggle two jobs plus a family. What we needed was a primer on how laypeople can be sustained and impactful while the pastor is off earning a secular paycheck forty or more hours a week. That book didn’t turn up in any searches, though hopefully now it will.

Toni Morrison reportedly said: If you find a book you really want to read but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.¹ Heeding her advice, I’m adding a layer: this is the book I not only wanted to read but one I desperately needed to read. Like more and more of my part-time clergy peers, I’m not the type of part-time pastor who’s semiretired from ministry, needing something to do or longing to feel loved by an adoring congregation. Monday through Friday, I’m reporting on deadline for the likes of The Boston Globe and the Christian Science Monitor, covering subjects from trends in religious life to federal murder trials. Sometimes I’m on assignment 1,500 or 2,000 miles away from my church. The only way my congregation is going to be effective is if we leverage together the many talents in the pews and get creatively missional alongside partners in the community. But how does this happen when parishioners haven’t been theologically trained and the pastor isn’t available even to coach the lay leaders? Where does a church begin when it’s been used to relying on a professional to do all the theological and ministerial heavy lifting? Isn’t this a bit like hoping a new homeowner will quickly learn how to repair sinks, pipes, and toilets without even as much as a tutorial in plumbing?

I knew I wasn’t alone in asking these questions. Tens of thousands of mainline Protestant congregations have unwittingly done away with full-time clergy in recent decades because they can no longer afford the luxury of retaining a cleric who’s assigned solely to one flock. Many have arrived at this situation much as First Parish did: abruptly, with little or no planning, and with no game plan for powerfully impacting the communities beyond their walls. These churches simply fell into it after trying, as First Parish did, to hold on to their full-time pastorates for as long as possible. If anyone needs a primer and fast, it’s all of us—laypeople, pastors, denominational staffers, friends, and supportive neighbors of local churches—who’ve suddenly found ourselves taking a test we haven’t studied for. And for those thousands of mainline congregations considering a shift to part-time when their baby boomer pastors retire or when their budgets can no longer justify a full-time salary, a primer on how congregations have done it well could be helpful too.

SEEKING CLUES IN CAMOUFLAGE

I decided in 2016 to stop wondering and go find some answers. I proposed a research project to dig into the lives of congregations that have done what’s commonly thought to be impossible: they’ve attained more vitality after reinventing (or rediscovering) themselves without full-time clergy. Vitality would be defined tightly enough to be meaningful but also broadly enough to allow for variation across contexts.

I adapted marks of vitality from a report put out by the United Church of Christ² and framed criteria that bring telling stories to the surface. Every congregation would need to have gone from being financially unsustainable (i.e., chronically spending beyond its means) to financially stable (keeping spending in line with income). All in the sample could now balance their budgets in a sustainable, principled way. Beyond that, each would bear at least one additional mark of vitality such as growing worship attendance, increasing members’ engagement in ministries, expanding mission outreach into the community, growing the budget via disciplined stewardship practices or increasing mission giving. The BTS Center in Portland, Maine, awarded me a $20,000 grant to delve into congregations that fit the bill and then publish my findings with hopes that many congregations could learn from the vital ones’ experiences.

At first, I expected to find six or eight case studies—enough to prove the species exists and run a few tests. But the research bore more fruit than anyone expected. In ten states from New England and the Mid-Atlantic to the Southwest and Pacific Northwest, I visited twenty vital, thriving mainline Protestant congregations with part-time clergy. I gathered information about a few others by telephone and email. The instructive, inspiring experiences of these congregations provide the basis for this book.

At first, I wondered if I’d be able to pull it off. When I queried middle judicatory officials for vital congregations with part-time clergy, I heard a common refrain: We don’t have any. Not any? I asked, bewildered. None, they explained, because if they were truly vital, they wouldn’t have part-time clergy. They’d be able to afford full-time clergy, as all healthy congregations presumably can do.

After a few calls like this, I realized I wasn’t facing a dearth of empirical data but rather a habitual way of thinking that simply equated healthy with having full-time clergy. I was convinced that even though some, perhaps most, congregations experienced decline after switching to part-time clergy, others surely did not. I’d known congregations that had long managed with part-time clergy; some must have transitioned from full-timers and come to thrive on the other side. It turned out my instincts were right: dozens have done just that. But there are reasons why their stories are so hard to find. First and foremost, they aren’t looking to be found. And their full-time peers aren’t eager to bring them to light either.

Like a camouflaged species that blends invisibly into the landscape, these congregations are hidden in plain sight. They’re churches we’ve all passed a thousand times on the way to the grocery store but never stopped to go inside. Nothing in their public presentation says, our pastor works part-time. On websites and at their physical locations, they look like churches with full-time pastors insofar as they meet weekly, host support groups, gather committees, and so forth. They do their best to keep their buildings up by spending money that’s no longer needed to pay full-time salaries anymore. As maintainers of appearances, they do quite well. That’s not an accident.

They don’t self-identify as having part-time clergy because they don’t want to call attention to the fact. They’ve imbibed the stigma about part-time clergy and their congregations. That stigma wrongly suggests they have less to offer to individuals and families in search of spiritual community. They’re often ashamed and apologetic about having part-time clergy. Some hasten to insist it’s only a temporary situation until they can get caught up financially, hire a full-timer, and be a real church again. The ones who know who’s part-time and who’s not in a given region are middle judicatory officials, but they’re often predisposed not to see vitality in the absence of a full-time pastor. Such dynamics reinforce the low self-esteem that’s common among congregations with part-time clergy. Even those with inspiring, instructive stories of vitality have routinely convinced themselves nobody would want to hear from them. After all, they sheepishly say, we’re not proud of the fact that we can’t afford a full-time pastor. Who would be?

But all this hiding in plain sight runs enormous risks for the future of congregations and the positive impacts they’ve had for generations. Quietly mystified about how to adapt and thrive after full-time clergy, congregations that have made the switch unfortunately can and often do continue to decline. Unable to find each other, they don’t learn from one another’s success stories and emerging best practices. They try to project a public face that implies a conventional clergy staffing level but belies the truth: this is a different breed of congregation. In its difference, this breed offers opportunities that one would be hard-pressed to find in a church with full-time clergy. Raising awareness that these churches exist, have unique blessings to offer, and are capable of thriving more than before marks an essential first step toward their brightening future.

A SPRING BREAKS FORTH IN THE DESERT

With some digging, I found churches thriving after full-time clergy and warming to the idea of sharing their stories. In southwest Washington state, where a strong entrepreneurial culture influences even the mainline church world, a regional director for the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America quickly grasped what I was seeking. She pointed me to three congregations that perfectly fit the bill. In Nevada, I found Episcopal congregations that have recently worked out the kinks and ramped up missions despite adversity because that’s what happens in Nevada, where most Episcopal congregations can’t afford even one full-timer. In Virginia, Presbyterians weren’t used to thinking about role model congregations with part-time clergy, but one call led to another. Eventually, a field guide emerged who could point me to an Arlington church that was vital in multiple ways. That congregation, Clarendon Presbyterian Church, had saved its pastor from burnout by cutting back to part-time a few years earlier. Bingo, I thought. Congregations are indeed finding new life after full-time clergy. Let’s keep their stories coming and learn all we can from them.

Once I got the knack for ferreting out these diamonds in the rough, I realized I had more than a handful of interesting case studies. A sample of ten grew to twenty, and that was still just a slice of the landscape. I assembled a diverse cross section including rural, suburban, urban, liberal, conservative, predominantly straight, substantially gay, and inclusive of all the largest mainline Protestant denominations. Racial diversity was harder to find because of what I’d set out to learn. I wanted to know how congregations attain more vitality after switching from full-time to part-time clergy, and it turns out that phenomenon is primarily found among white-majority congregations. To be sure, ethnic and racial minority congregations have extensive experience finding vitality under part-time pastorates, which have been normative in many African American and new immigrant contexts. However, because these churches never had full-time clergy to begin with, they haven’t made the transition from full- to part-time clergy, which was the