My Church's Inferiority Complex
How one congregation traded the "poor little us" mindset for new confidence.
Peter Youmans

Tell Boss Hogg 'Hi' when you see him!" I could feel my blood pressure rise as I endured another sarcastic remark about the area where I pastor. "This is the town of Hazard," I often have to remind people, "with one z."

People in Hazard, Kentucky, already struggle with a poor self-image, and comparisons with "The Dukes of Hazzard" TV show don't help. For the record, the "Dukes" were caricatures from fictitious Hazzard County, Georgia.

Here in the town of Hazard in Perry County, Kentucky, I've never seen Boss Hogg, our police officer isn't named Enis, and Uncle Jesse's boys don't drive wildly around "these here parts" in an orange Dodge Charger named "General Lee."

But in Appalachia, we still combat stereotypes, and losing to them, we suffer from inferiority complexes. Even the church I pastor.

Early in my ministry here, I visited a church in another state and was asked to give a brief testimony concerning our ministry.

I described the area's traditional, family-oriented culture. I wanted them to understand that Hazard is a safe, friendly place to live.

But immediately after me, another man got up to speak.

"I have preached near where our brother lives," he said. "The place is called 'Bloody Breathitt,' where the river ran red with the blood of feuding men."

He succeeded in getting attention, but he failed to mention that the river hasn't run red since Prohibition!

I've felt the mockery when people said, "Oh, you're from Hazard." And worse yet, people who have lived here longer have come to expect the condescension. They've heard the subtle message "You're inferior" for so long, they believe it.

When I came to Davidson Baptist Church, the members were defeated and divided. They couldn't agree on much, and they held no hope for reaching the community.

Even though average attendance of 130 was large for the area, the church was not sure it could afford a full-time pastor. Every aspect of life reflected the mindset that "we're just a poor little church."

I've discovered that my situation is no different from that of many pastors. Whether it is a rural church with limited growth potential, a downtown church whose neighborhood has changed, or a congregation struggling in the shadow of a megachurch, the problems are often the same.

These churches are unable to see themselves as a ministry of importance. They have low spiritual esteem.

Why they feel that way
Curing a church-wide inferiority complex can't be done until the cause is found, and there are several contributing factors.

Sometimes a church puts up a false front to hide its insecurities, much like the blustering bully on the playground. One member told an interested visitor we were "too big" and were no longer taking new members. This bully front was a defense against instability newcomers might bring to the church.

A second source of inferiority comes from the culture. This area's history affects how our church members perceive reality. Because of past experiences with outsiders—government and media, for example—anyone moving in is viewed with suspicion. You have to work hard to earn the locals' trust.

Families and communities are so closely knit, they resist any change that might affect those bonds. Some families even discourage their children from traveling to attend college, in order to keep the close community together.

Economic factors also play a part. Much of eastern Kentucky is cut off from urban areas because of an inadequate highway system.

Until recently the only real industry in the area was coal mining, which has never been consistent. And without new businesses, the population has declined rapidly.

Schools face falling enrollments, and jobs are hard to find. Many young couples must either live off welfare or leave the area, further discouraging the people who've stayed behind.

And an area's theological heritage affects a church's self-image. Circuit-riding ministry was common in this area well into the 1960s.

Consequently, many people around here perceive bi-vocational preaching as a sign of deeper spirituality. More than once I've heard, "I wouldn't go to a church that pays a preacher."

Because of the area's history of poverty, many view with suspicion any type of church offering. A man was complaining to me about a friend who sat next to him each week in church. "He has a good job and he never puts anything in the offering plate. I always put my dollar in!"

I thought he was joking. He wasn't.

With Hazard's residents holding such deeply ingrained attitudes, I knew there would be no overnight solution. After several years of struggling against these forces, I had almost given up. We had lost a few key people, the economy had grown worse, and the church bills were barely being paid. I, too, was beginning to feel like a failure.

I shared this with one of the men who had been there for years.

"But, Pete," he replied, "you don't see where we've come from; I do."

While the area's population had declined, our membership had actually increased. Our offerings were up.

But more important, we had put into practice 2 Corinthians 10:5: "We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ."

I was only beginning to see it myself, but we had begun to address the causes of our ecclesiastical inferiority complex. Now, I would do it more intentionally—and with vigor.

Growing godly confidence
In America where "bigger is better," I needed to help the church see that regardless of their size, they could be all that Christ commanded them to be. Size does not equal spirituality, nor can you measure a church's worth by it.

Our people needed fresh perspective. Here are the ways we developed godly confidence:

1. I began teaching about "underdog" churches. When I preached on the churches in Acts, we found in the Philippian church a poor, young congregation that was nonetheless a constant blessing to Paul and the church of Jerusalem. Likewise, in Hazard, we learned that a church's social standing has nothing to do with its spiritual position.

2. A new strategy for decision making made everyone important. A small but significant change in how the church is governed altered our approach to big decisions. For years, leaders maneuvered the church's by-laws to support their opinions. Politicking and procuring of votes often prevented the church from moving ahead.

Then we ended majority rule. Instead, we agreed to seek full consensus on a vote before moving forward. Now we depend on the Spirit of God, rather than machinations and manipulation, to bring about decisions. If some struggle with an idea, we table it and allow the Spirit to work in the hearts of our leaders.

Not only has this stopped the stumping for votes, but it also focused our leaders on seeking God instead of seeking to have their way.

It is amazing how often our leaders change their opinions, now that God's will, and not their way, is at stake.

3. We got a second opinion and a new outlook. The myopia that low self-esteem produces had kept our church from seeing its potential.

Years ago, for example, our leadership suggested the church spend the money to pave our parking lot. It was a simple change that we had hoped would increase the attractiveness of the church to visitors.

But the congregation quickly stifled the idea.

"Convenience," they said, "is not enough reason to spend that kind of money."

Even though I tried to present a greater vision, as long as that vision was mine alone, the church fought it.

Then we began bringing in to share their stories people from similar situations who had accomplished great things with the Lord. Some in our church began thinking, If God could do that with their church, then he can use us here.

4. We took field trips. We also began taking groups from our church to visit other churches and attend outside conferences. They saw firsthand what others were doing, and they began to catch a vision larger than Hazard's culture would nurture.

Our youth went on a short-term mission trip to the inner city. They were stretched, and they loved it. One of the young men decided during that trip that God wanted to use him in full-time ministry. This fall he becomes the first teen from our youth group to study for the ministry.

Several churches in our area have historically forbidden musical instruments. When I took some of our men to a Bible conference, they got to hear different worship styles. When the men returned, they helped us to introduce new types of music (and even a video projector!) to the congregation. Today, the teens use guitars in our evening service, and it has invigorated our church's worship.

Recently, our leadership brought up the idea of paving the parking lot again. As the church has grown, parking has become a bigger problem. Numerous visitors have mentioned passing us by because they did not see a space.

This time the church recognized it not as a matter of convenience, but as an issue of evangelism. The paving proposal passed without argument.

Conquering our final fear
After 16 years as pastor in Hazard, I thought we had overcome our inferiority complex—until a recent board meeting.

As we discussed amending the constitutional requirements concerning membership for missionaries, one man offered a familiar refrain: "If we do this, the church will be taken over."

Apparently he and others were so concerned about the changes outsiders might bring that they wanted to prohibit even our own on-assignment missionaries from having any say in the church.

After a lengthy discussion, the issue was dropped. But at the next board meeting, this same man raised the issue again.

To my surprise he said, "I have been thinking about how I would like it if I attended a church that I could have no real part in. I think we need to change our constitution." He became the point man for some major changes that followed.

For years this church in Hazard had been suspicious, wondering Why would anyone want anything to do with us?

Today, the people know that God has a great plan and we all have a part in it. And there's nothing inferior about that.

Peter Youmans is pastor of Davidson Baptist Church near Hazard, Kentucky.

Copyright © 2003 by the author or Christianity Today International/Leadership Journal.
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Fall 2003, Vol. XXIV, No. 4, Page 78