My favorite writing about church matters is Keith Drury’s “Tuesday Column.” I always look forward to what he has to say. He tackles all kinds of topics and inevitably imparts a fresh spin.

Today I read his latest, “In Praise of Mediocrity.” He writes, “Mediocrity is the average, the median, the ordinary churches, music, talent, and intelligence. In short I want to say a word of praise for you, and me, and most ordinary people like us.” He then praises ordinary churches, ordinary marriages, and people with “ordinary” spiritual passion. It’s really great stuff.

About churches, he writes:

I think ordinary churches deserve more praise. I’m talking about churches in the big fat center who don’t have thousands of attendees and sprawling TV ministries. They aren’t famous and nobody ever asks their pastor to teach “How I Did It” seminars. But the pastor and people show up every week and worship and study and serve each other and love their community. Good for you!¬† I wish more of my students wanted to go to ordinary churches.

After nearly 30 years working for my denomination and being around churchmen from the broader Christian community, I’ve seen up-close the disdain directed at small churches, especially the little white church on a country road that has never had more than 80 people. Many times over the years, I’ve heard sentiments like this: “We need to just close a bunch of our little going-nowhere churches and cut our losses.” Yes, I’ve heard that many times over the years.

I disagree with that view (and, I’m afraid, I’m typecast as an apologist for mediocrity). Churches go through ups and downs. I’ve seen superstar churches crash and burn, tiny churches come alive under the right leadership, and all manner of churches enter a period of funk. But usually, there’s still a community of believers and a foothold in that neighborhood, and God still does things there, regardless of how we in Mecca view them. Today’s superstar church might be tomorrow’s goat, and vice versa. You can’t write off (or deify) a church based on what you see today, because God’s purposes tend to take a long view.

Not that every church should survive or be kept on life support; some are so dysfunctional that they should be closed, because they only bring disgrace to the cross of Christ. But if there is a community of believers, regardless of size, I see God in their midst and think they deserve some respect. But in a culture that worships the megachurch, I’m in the minority on that.

Speaking in Paris in 1910, Teddy Rooselvelt said:

It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.

During my 25+ years at the denominational headquarters, I’ve seen lots of second-guessing when noble Kingdom ventures don’t work out. In particular, I’m thinking of people who leave a comfortable church to plant a new church, and the church never materializes despite their best efforts. And people who enter missionary service, perhaps relocating an entire family to a new country, but something goes awry and they have to return.

I admire risk-takers. Church planters are that way. I’ve seen many ministers leave a sure thing–a church that’s doing well, where they are liked, and where they have some visibility which provides opportunities for denominational leadership. In some cases, they might have been in line for an even more cushy, high-profile church. But instead, they venture out to start a brand new church…and for whatever reason, it never develops. I think of Dan, Bob, Brooks, Mark, Anthony, Lee, and various others. When the plug is finally pulled, there are always a variety of explanations. But you’ll usually hear in the mix, “I guess he just doesn’t have what it takes.” Maybe. But not necessarily.

Likewise with people who enter missionary service. I’ve seen people go overseas with great hope and vision, and for whatever reason, return before their hopes and visions can be realized. And, “I guess they just weren’t cut out for missionary service.” Maybe. But not necessarily.

And unfortunately, we tend not to give someone a second chance. We just conclude, “He doesn’t have it.” And sadly, too many of these people end up leaving the ministry, or at least leaving our denomination. They perhaps seek a fresh start somewhere far from the “failure” tag. If they do stay in our fellowship, we just never bring up their past failure…even though, in their eyes, it may have been their greatest-ever step of faith.

People like me–and I can’t pretend to have ever risked greatly–can too easily pass judgment from our secure positions of respect. We observe the situation and draw simplistic conclusions about why another person’s dream, that they poured prayer and sweat and endless hours into, went bust.

I believe it’s wrong, absolutely wrong, to focus on the “failure” angle. Even if the person was mismatched or unprepared for the role, I still see someone who risked. He tried something difficult and stretching and perhaps dangerous. In a society that worships comfort and convenience, I honor those people among us who, as Roosevelt said, “if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly.”