I’m making my way through Douglas Rushkoff’s new book, sharing observations for the church as I go. The book’s received complimentary reviews in the New York Times, among other sources, if reviews are important to you. My first post on the book is here.
Here’s what Douglas is worried about:
Instead of demanding that our technologies conform to ourselves and our own innate rhythms, we strive to become more compatible with our technologies and the new cultural norms their timelessness implies. We compete to process more emails or attract more social networking connections than our colleagues, as if more to do on the computer meant something good. We misapply the clockwork era’s goals of efficiency and productivity over time to a digital culture’s asynchronous landscape. Instead of working inside the machine, as we did before, we must become the machine.
We’re conducting something of a “listening campaign” in my church that involves lots of one-on-one conversations conducted by a trained group of people who then share what they’re hearing with one another. We’re hearing what Rushkoff describes, particularly from folks in the prime of their working years who also have school-aged kids. They expect machine-like efficiency and precision of themselves in their jobs, at home, and even in their community commitments. And the youth I work with? Of course they’re addicted to Instagram and Facebook, but not for the reasons grown ups think they are. It’s actually worse. They must be social networking machines because they’re terrified of missing out, and thus being left out, of the social life of their peers. One of my students recently confessed her guilty angst that she missed a text from a friend in need at 1:00 in the morning.
One obvious asset our church has to combat this “digiphrenia” is the liturgical calendar. To people who expect mechanistic productivity of themselves all day every day, every day of the week, whatever the season, the liturgical calendar offers a valuable narrative canopy and rhythm for life. The colors, stories, and songs that attend Advent and Lent and Easter and–my favorite–Ordinary Time are a lifeline, a road to stroll, not march. People badly need that.
But there’s more to this. In an era of participatory decline, anxiety abounds about the future of the church. Many in my denomination have left to start something new out of protest over liberalizing theology, yes, but also over worries about decline (which they clearly tie to the liberalizing theology). One departing colleague said to me, “I just want to be part of something that’s growing.” You could hear the yearning in her voice.
There’s a clear expectation here that the church be always growing. Getting smaller raises all kinds of fears and longing for a more robust era or church involvement. Like the price of a stock, we fret and strategize when church attendance goes down. What else would we do?
Present Shock gives two examples of businesses that have built regular decline into their planning, even into their identity. One of those is Duncan, the toy company that makes the famous yo-yos. The toys
“enjoy a cyclical popularity as up and down as the motion of the toy itself. The products become wildly popular every ten years or so, and then retreat into near total stagnation. The company has learned to ride this ebb and flow, emerging with TV campaigns, celebrity spokespeople, and national tournaments every time a new generation of yo-yo aficionados comes of age.
There’s also Birkenstock.
Birkenstock shoes rise and fall in popularity along with a host of other back-to-nature products and behaviors. Instead of resisting these trend waves and ending up with unsold stock and disappointing estimates, the company has learned to recognize the signs of an impending swing in either direction. With each new wave of popularity, Birkenstock launches new lines and opens new dealerships, then pulls back when consumer appetites level off.
Could we see church “decline” as something more cyclical? Could it be something that happens naturally, something that we allow to shape our experience of the church’s story (death and resurrection?) rather than kicking against the goads to get the thing running like it did back in ’55?
What say you?
Bonus points to the first person who comments with the details of their Duncan yo-yo.
YoRocko! 
My kids stole my yoyos, but that sort of supports the cyclical nature of them.
IU love the idea of attendance being cyclical. That could be verifiable if we had the data, wouldn’t you think? If we dig back into attendance records we could see that.
One hurdle to the church looking at it this way could be the short-term nature of clergy in a given call. Each new pastor is expected to usher in a new era equal to or better than “the good old days.” Up, up, up, or the new guy goes out, out,out. A longview for pastors and for attendance could really support each other.
I totally think we need a church equivalent of sabermetrics: an army of nerds with laptops compiling spreadsheets full of data to interpret what’s really happening. And playing with yo-yos. In Birkinstocks.
In my observations churches who are scratch your back, tell you what you want to hear (regardless of the accuracy of the theology) like Heritage was, tend to grow quickly where churches that teach biblical principles without compromise are not. Main line Christian churches pretty much all fit in to the latter category. Long views may or may not help. What people wanted out of their individual church in the 50’s probably isn’t the same today.
Our experience with megachurches and the ministry to peoples’ “felt needs” colors my view on this, obviously. Having seen the fallout from large, rapid growth, I’m not as drawn to it as some others. But I don’t want to copout either and just sit on our hands. I guess I’m wondering: if downturns are natural and cyclical, what is the best way to use a downturn if not trying like mad to make it end?
Second person to reference this book to me today. Will check it out!
After I get untangled from my red yo-yo.
Ooh, the red ones are the best