The Gift of Data (Part 7) – On Being Here Now

As I look forward to starting The Next America Read-Along later this week, it’s time to tie up some loose ends. Remember when I told you that I had stumbled across some data that was so depressing, I wasn’t even publishing it?

You probably don’t remember, because it was last September. Heck, I barely remember! But not long ago, I realized I had never finished the Gift of Data series.

Why? I found the data I am about to share, realized it was the next thing to post, and stopped publishing for the next four months. That’s how disturbed I was. Despite the fact that I had already offered advice about how to handle deeply depressing data: with holy indifference and passionate curiosity.

Apparently I was better at dishing out that advice than I was at taking it. Apparently I could not manage to summon up any holy indifference when confronted with the numbers I am about to disclose. Apparently I really, really did not want to deal with this county-by-county analysis of my diocese.

But here it is, data courtesy of the Association of Religion Data Archives:

I knew that numerical decline was a reality. I just didn’t realize that between 1980 and 2010, my diocese lost about 50% of its population.

Looking this data straight in the eye has helped me grasp the disorientation of longtime Episcopalians who have witnessed this decline in their lifetime. As someone who joined the Episcopal Church in 2007, I can only imagine what that might be like. The disorientation is widespread: nationally, the Episcopal Church lost about 30% of population between 1980-2010.

The numbers above are just from my diocese, where God was merciful enough to call me to ministry among the Episcopalians. You can find your own county’s religious adherence data at the ARDA’s U.S. Congregational Membership: County Reports page. If you look it up, I’d love to know what you find. (Misery loves company.)

But I haven’t published these numbers to depress you/me/us. Rather, after four months of burying my head in the sand, I finally have an approach to this data that has enabled me to face it. This is my approach: lament what is lost and be thankful for what is here.

I do want to lament the fact that the Episcopal Church has seen such heavy losses in the last 30 years. I grieve for the people who are not part of our congregations. Some have gone on to their final reward, but others left in anger or apathy. I grieve those departures.

I thank God to find myself among the people who have joined the Episcopal Church in the 2000-2010 period. Nothing has blessed me more.

Lament is the beginning of my response to these numbers, but–because God isn’t done with us yet–it cannot be the end. So I invite you to imagine: What if the Episcopal mission were beginning again? What if we were new?

We have so much more than any new mission or ministry could ever expect to have. We have passionate people committed to the cause of Jesus Christ. We have buildings, and a communication network, and money. We have so much!

What if we begin again by being grateful for all the gifts God is providing today, and asking how we might use them to extend the ministry of Christ?

What if we put our hand to the plow and looked ahead?

How can we do that? Well, one simple way is to participate in our read-along for the new book The Next America. We’ll be looking at Pew Research Center data on the coming shifts in American life. I’ve begun the book and it’s already fascinating. The first post in the new series will be up tomorrow.

How are you putting your hand to the plow where you are?