Rural Recommendations for Politically Charged Conversations
I pastor a growing multicultural congregation full of young families in a micropolitan area with a population of over 100,000. We have two colleges in our city, one of which is among the oldest Historically Black Colleges in America. We are an intellectual church that together reads books from a variety of streams of theological thought. Currently, we are reading “Jesus and the Disinherited” by Dr. Howard Thurman and working on understanding the Gospel in light of injustice. Our kids recently worked through the New City Catechism on Wednesday nights, burying deep the core doctrines of the Christian faith. Our theology is rich and historically faithful, and we are working to see the restoration of all things in our community.
I pastor a Pentecostal Holiness church in the rural West Virginia mountains. Our congregation is mostly “white evangelicals” from the heart of Appalachia. The opioid epidemic, shrinking population, faltering economy, and declining life expectancies are our everyday realities. To most seminary graduates, this is no man’s land, and I like many pastors in my community have little formal training. This is the center of Trump country.
Both of these statements are true and define the one church that I pastor. These are the nuances and challenges of pastoring a rural church. We are a cluster of contradictions in an increasingly polarized world. Caricatured as either the happy country bumpkins from a Norman Rockwell painting or the drug addicted white trash of Hillbilly Elegy. We are often the butt of jokes, and regretfully we have, at times, believed we are of less value. The truth is, we are a beautiful mess.
Rural areas are often, surprisingly, far less homogenous than the trendiest city neighborhoods where everyone celebrates their broad-mindedness by surrounding themselves with people who agree with them on all issues. I challenge you to push past the negative caricatures in your mind and see the rural church as the best opportunity to lead movements of restoration and reconciliation because of the depth of relationships in its communities.
I need you to understand; we are people. We share the aspirations and insightfulness of all persons. We are deep thinkers and articulate. We are diverse and individualistic. We hope, we dream, we hurt, we bleed. The most significant difference I see between our rural community and the majority of urban populations is that most of the people who live here are from here. They grew up here, and so did their parents. This creates an environment not often found in our current society. We are a place with a long memory.
This past year, I read multiple articles that sought to help me “survive” the holidays. The premise of most of these articles was that for a couple of days a year, you have to go back home and suffer through meals with ignorant family members. The articles advised people how to avoid political conversation and any uncomfortable topics. This avoidance of uncomfortable confrontation is a privilege of modern urban living and in my opinion, terribly dangerous. Dr. Thurman warned that “Human contact without fellowship is a breeding ground for hate.” When I view the vitriol with which people speak of flyover country, I believe he knew of what he spoke.
Individual mobility or population migration is the segregation of our day. We are separating people by their education, class, occupation, and political leaning, not by moving them across the tracks but across the country. I contend that this displacement causes historical amnesia. We can quickly disconnect ourselves from the failings of our families and hometowns and assume the moral high ground that accompanies our new found societal standing. On the other hand, those who have remained in rural areas are not afforded that benefit; our eyes cannot escape the scars of our past because they live with us.
In my community, we are dealing with wounds of our prejudiced past. The Historically Black College I mentioned at the onset, is the whitest HBCU in America. During the heat of the civil rights movement, the newly appointed white administration ordered the dorms permanently closed after a destructive incident of protest. Just recently the college was approved to build new dorms if they can raise the money. This is a visible scar in our community, but thankfully, it is an uncomfortable conversation that could no longer be ignored. We cannot avoid each other. We are neighbors not just ignorant relatives, and through the power of the Gospel at work in little rural churches, we are endeavoring to foster true fellowship, not just contact.
Here is what you have probably heard about rural America. The population has drastically decreased. Good paying jobs are hard to find. Some people blame the economy, some blame the government, and others blame drugs or the doctors that prescribe them.
Here is what you have not heard. Our deep roots in place and our lifelong neighbors are our precious inheritance. You see, we do not have the privilege of believing our hands are clean, but thankfully, there is room for dirty hands at a bloody cross.
As a rural pastor, I must no longer accept the ridicule of the nation but embrace the true fellowship of our sufferings and recognize loving kindness as the path forward. I must realize the honor of being called to my community.
I also believe it is time we cultivate a heart for rural America in our seminaries. We need young pastors who can recognize the beauty of the country, while not ignoring the wounds of the past. Ministers who can help restore dignity and address sources of shame. I believe purpose could eradicate poverty, that dreams are stronger than drugs and that righteousness leaves no room for racism. We need pastors to accept the calling to go rural. Men and women who can lead tough conversations on porches and in barbershops. Then maybe, just maybe, others will see that the goal is not to avoid disagreements but to love our neighbors, even those with whom we disagree.
