Book review: I Am a Church Member by Thom S. Rainer

My pastor began a brief sermon series based on this book last week, so the fourth book I read in 2018 was I Am a Church Member by Thom S. Rainer.  To begin with, calling this a book is generous; at 79 pages, it's more of a hardcover pamphlet.  These little books are fairly common in Christian publishing, a good way for a pastor or other church staff member not only to be an "author" but to build up a fairly impressive-looking literary resume.  The back cover of this book boasts that Rainer "has written more than twenty books" but doesn't indicate if any of them break one hundred pages. 

I find the vast majority of these little hardbacklets rather shallow (the one notable exception is How to Respond When You Feel Mistreated by John Bevere), and I will admit that I am not the target audience for what is blatantly pitched at an introductory level. The most interesting part of this book was the "Tale of Two Church Members" in the introduction, an imagined dialogue between Goofus and Gallant which illustrates the divide between the consumer and commitment mentalities and which is unfortunately dropped entirely once the book proper begins.  I would have liked to have seen "Michael" respond to "Liam" in character and perhaps effect some change in his mindset rather than Rainer's more straightforward six-point sermon.

Rainer is undoubtedly correct that the consumer mentality is a major force behind church-shopping in modern American culture: finding a church that meets my felt needs; makes few, if any, demands; offers the ministries and programs that interest me and my family without asking me to participate in providing them; meets at a time and location convenient to me; etc.  I am not, however, convinced that it contributes to Millennials rejecting Christianity in toto.

There is much lamenting over the lower church-membership rolls now than in the 1950s, but I steadfastly refuse to get worked up over it.  The truth is that in the mid-twentieth century, church membership was a status symbol, a shorthand certification that one was decent and respectable.  (Several years ago, a member of the much-lauded Builder generation walked through the room while a scene from "Left Behind" (I know, I know) played on the TV screen.  When he asked what was on, I explained that it was a Christian movie.  "That doesn't look very Christian to me," he remarked primly with a pointed look.  It took me some time to realize that he made that determination based on the fact that a character on the screen had a gun in his hand.  "Christian," in his mind, meant inoffensive and suitable for children.  I can only imagine if he walked into a screening of "The Passion of the Christ.")  Today, due to shifts in the moral culture, a similar level of virtue-signalling is achieved by serving on the board of a secular charity.  Jesus made it clear that it would only ever be a minority that would follow him.  In my opinion, church rolls in past generations were wildly inflated and are now perhaps returning to a more honest level, when the worldly benefits of membership are lessened.