Porch Life

Author: Mark Fenstermacher
August 06, 2021

I've been sitting on a porch. The porch is on the front of a big, old house that sits on the near southside of Fort Wayne. The reason I am here is because my brother and his wife, with whom our 94-year old Dad lives, are in Alaska for a week and a half. Someone needed to be here with Dad. So I'm here for a few days, working on church things, helping get meals, writing a sermon, playing Frisbee with a dog who thinks I should spend more time playing, and sitting on the porch.

This neighborhood is a community. Beneath the big, old hardwood trees that line the street, people walk their dogs, greet their neighbors, and check in with one another. There is Eddie who collects scrap metal and drives his small garden tractor around the community. There is the next door neighbor, a little boy, who suddenly shows up to play with our family's dog. There is the architect across the street who, when he walks with his wife, stops by and talks with us about their grandchildren and their home church (Good Shepherd UMC). One man drives a golf cart, accompanied by his five or six year old child, and waters the hanging flower pots located along the sidewalks with a long wand attached to a plastic water tank.

Everyone seems to know everyone. You can hear their voices as they talk with one another. You can see their smiles as they make their way down the sidewalk.

I marvel at this because in many suburban American neighborhoods—and many medium to larger churches—a surprising number of people barely know the people next door or the person sitting in the pew ahead or behind them. 

Community is a beautiful thing. Being connected to others who care about you, and about whom you can care, is life-changing in a profound way. Study after study is showing how much healthier people are when they regularly participate in worship and faith communities—especially during the pandemic. People who are connected are healthier and more hopeful.

Here is the thing: people in the neighborhood look out for newcomers, greet them and ask about them. People tell the newcomers about the pots of flowering plants, how they are paid for and cared for, and they make sure new people know about the neighborhood Christmas walk. In this neighborhood, people seem intentional about welcoming and connecting with new residents.

As I sit on the porch, I find myself savoring and treasuring this sweet community. Where people talk with one another, care for one another, and know who is on vacation and where they are going and who is in the hospital. And I find myself treasuring my time with you, savoring the moments when we linger and talk, and I am blessed.

Here is the thing, though: we need to remember—in the church—to look out for the visitor and the newcomer. We need to avoid making Sunday morning a "family reunion" where we only see and only chat with those we know best.  When you come to worship, when you gather in your class or youth group, first greet those you may not know. Take the time to get to know them without pestering people with too many questions. And, then, follow up and invite them—if it is appropriate—to join you for breakfast or lunch or pickleball or book club or the "Faith in Action" day.

People aren't looking just for a church to attend but relationships...community.

Acts 2:46 tells us the early Christians "spent much time together."

I'm sitting here on the porch watching—and listening to—this neighborhood. Smiling. And I realize you get this kind of beautiful community only when people, day by day, notice the newcomer and help them connect.

Treasure your friends and keep your eyes—and heart—open for the people who may be new. What would it look like to be a church where new guests are really seen...loved...connected?

Grace and peace,
Pastor Mark

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