Hope Church: A Case Study

Hope Church: A Case Study

The lights were still on in the pastor’s study of Hope Church, a field stone edifice which had graced the Midwestern town square since the mid-1800's. Most of its four hundred members were long since in bed this late in the evening, but pastor William Jackson, though weary, was still pondering the board of Trustees meeting which had adjourned about an hour ago. He remembered Harold Bild, trustees chairperson, holding forth in his slow, tedious manner. “Bill, I really don’t think your suggestion is very practical. I mean, the church is doing ok financially, but we’re not flush. We’ve always had to rely on the occasional special gift to get us over the bumps. Just look at last week’s board meeting. Joe, here, told us the roof needs replacing. That’s a campaign all by itself. How we’re going to raise the money for that is beyond me, and I fear, beyond the means of the congregation. Now, I’ll kick in a bit more than usual, and I’m sure others will too...”

Joe Hampton, chairperson of Building and Grounds, has brightened considerably at the news. “I was hoping you’d say that, Harold. I can’t tell you how much the church has always appreciated your generosity...” Harold smiled benevolently, and continued. “But, you see, Bill, why would those of us with the wherewithal to help over the bumps want to give at all if the church had this big wad of memorial money you want to stash away? Why, money in a fund like that would be downright discouraging, that’s what it would be, to the people that really care about the church and want to help it. It would hurt the stewardship program, I guarantee it!”

At that Alice Hastings, church treasurer, and trust officer in a local bank, had shot a peculiar look at Harold. “I don’t know, Harold. My read on the level of giving in this church is that we’re chronically ‘discouraged.’ Now, I’m privileged to know what everyone pledges or donates here. Some give lot and some give a little, but on average I’ll be we’re giving at less than 2% of income level. No wonder we can’t navigate ‘the bumps’ you referred to without asking for handouts.” It hadn’t taken Bill long to realize that Alice, a relative newcomer to the church and Harold, whose childhood memories including carving his initials in the back pew while his grandfather preached, crossed swords as often as Harold and Joe complemented each other. He also realized how often in the recent past he had been through this same conversation. He wanted to see an endowment established in Hope Church, but his strategy, which had worked so well in other areas of the church life, had failed to gain any ground here in money matters. One day he had shared his frustration with the Presbytery executive, telling how he had taken key church members aside and chatted them up about the benefits of such a fund, had distribute denominational promotional material, and led discussions at board meetings. But no progress was visible. The executive’s response had hit the nail on the head: “Sounds to me like regarding money, the church is numb!”

Bill’s thoughts flowed back to other key moments in the discussion. Peter Adams always seemed offended by any kind of money talk. “Isn’t this a church? I came here to feed my spiritual side, but all I get is mired in money talk. I’m up to my neck with it all week. Bill, this church needs you to be a spiritual leader, and frankly, I don’t think your passion around this endowment business is well placed. Let Alice and Harold worry about paying the bills. What we need is more prayer, and bible study, and education and mission.”

“Well, finally we’re hearing something about mission!” Grace Peterson had said. Grace was a retired mission worker and the Presbytery’s most visible advocate for outreach. “The Bible I read is very clear about the church being in service to others, not just ourselves. I agree with part of your point, Peter, about Bible study and education. But money is not a dirty subject, and I’ve never understood this claim that we’re just hanging on by our fingertips financially. God has been very good to this congregation. We’re among the most economically comfortable folks in town. What I worry about is how this fund Bill’s proposing would be used. Is it just another building and operations fund?”

Bill worried that his answer had been feeble, but he was becoming unsure of his leadership in this whole thing. “Well, it could be directed for all sorts of purposes, I suppose. My hope is that it could support programs we can’t now afford under the operating fund.” “Which brings us back to my point,” said Harold confidently. “We hardly have enough money in the operating fund. Where is all this new money coming from?”

Bill could still feel his heart sink when the conversation recycled for the umpteenth time, but then he thought about Kurt and had to smile to himself. “You just never know,” he thought. He had closed the meting at the point, feeling they weren’t getting anywhere. He had to admit they all had valid points, and he was ready to throw in the towel. “Thanks for your help in thinking this through. It look to me like this is an idea whose time has not yet come, so I think we should just let it go for awhile. We do have other things to worry about.”

Kurt Bradley had remained behind after the others had left. He hadn’t said a word through the whole meeting. A life-long Hope Church member like Harold, he had taught in the church school program for twenty years, and sung in the choir for twenty-five. Bill’s only desire at that point was to get home and get to bed, but Kurt seemed now ready to talk. “Bill, as my grandfather used to say, you look like someone ‘who was rode hard and put away wet.’” “I admit I’m discouraged,” Bill had admitted. “There’s nothing like talk about money to raise people’s anxieties.” “I want you to think about something,” Kurt had said, and in the next several minutes had completely turned Bill’s evening upside down.

After Kurt had been gone some time, Bill finally unclasped his fingers from behind his head and stood up. It was late, but now he was wide awake with thoughts of Kurt’s tantalizing proposal. “My grandfather was a wealthy man,” he had said, “and a generous portion of his estate has come to me. I’ve thought about giving it to the church, but up to now that would have been like going out and buying a boiler. I like a warm church, but it’s not what I want my special money going for. You’ve signaled to me that there could be another way to give to my own church. It seems our friends on the committee won’t establish an endowment for the church, but I might.” Bill had been dumbfounded. “What do you mean?” “Well, I need to think about this, but if I were to see some positive signs that others would contribute and if some creative thinking could shape the fund’s purpose in the right way, I might just put Grandpa’s money to work.” Bill picked his way through the dark sanctuary toward the back parking lot door. “Now what am I going to do?” he wondered.

A Case Study prepared for the
National Association of Endowed Presbyterian Churches
October 17 - 19, 1997
J. S. O’Neill