Congregation learning new way to "do church"

When Judy Schleusner heard about some new ideas at Trinity Lutheran Church in Lynnwood, she thought it all a bit strange.

Fellow members wanted to form groups to write in journals, knit or play softball — as ways of expressing their faith. And the groups could even include nonchurch members.

In her experience as a lifelong Lutheran, first you joined the church, then you did church activities. Now that was being upended.

"Lutherans always say: 'We've never done it this way,' " said Schleusner, 60, a retired bookkeeper.

But there Schleusner was on a recent Monday evening at a coffee shop in Bothell, meeting with six other women of all ages who gather weekly for spiritual journal-writing.

Doing so has "made my faith more real and connected to people," she said. "I see that other people are struggling, doubting, rejoicing in the same way that I am."

These days, Schleusner's gathering is among more than a dozen small groups at Trinity.

As mainline Protestant churches go, the nearly 70-year-old Trinity is doing well. Membership — at 1,800 — is steadily rising and finances are stable. Yet members realize that if they keep "doing church" as they've always done, Trinity, like many other mainline churches, could die.

So they've found new ways to thrive, including forming the small groups. The intent is not to convert people or funnel them into the pews but to deepen members' relationships with God and each other, while also reaching out to those who aren't church members.

For some participants, it's the only "church" they go to. And the pastors are fine with that. They hope the groups may even become their own self-sustaining faith communities.

The groups, meeting in parks, homes and other venues, "show people that being a believer doesn't have to be stuck in a certain format or a certain place," said Micah Reitan, 35, a business owner who co-captains the softball group.

Shift in thinking

The small-group approach certainly isn't new.

For decades, megachurches — many of which are nondenominational and evangelical — have had small groups.

But while it's not unheard of for mainline Protestant churches to have them — University Presbyterian Church, for example, has many small groups — it is unusual, said the Rev. Sanford Brown, executive director of the Church Council of Greater Seattle.

"In my opinion, it's the key to congregational growth," he said.

Yet for many mainline churches, starting such groups requires a shift in thinking — of seeing church not as something you go to once a week, but as a way of being. Pastors may have to give up some control. And normally private people are learning to get more comfortable talking about their faith.

"Culturally and traditionally, many Lutherans come from reserved backgrounds — Northern European, Scandinavian, German — people who don't traditionally share emotional stuff very easily," said Lenore Peterson, 73, a longtime Trinity member.

For years, members wanted to reach out more but didn't know how, said Jon Highum, 43, president of the congregation. "We're Lutherans. We don't want to go door to door."

Rising from a fire

For the congregation at Trinity, a turning point came after a serial arsonist destroyed its previous building 16 years ago.

Members decided that the new building was not going to be just for church members, but for the community at large. Since then, Trinity has hosted community gatherings and programs to help the needy.

About a year-and-a-half ago, members began focusing more intensely on being a presence in the community when they started the small groups.

Rather than the top-down approach of many mainline churches, Trinity decided to have members propose ideas for groups based on their own passions or needs they saw in the community. The groups receive seed money and help from the staff but are expected to become financially self-sustaining.

For instance, one group brings a jar to meetings for people to contribute money, part of which goes to help with neighborhood projects and part of which goes to the church.

"I think they're really empowering folks," said Liz Gimmestad, 63, a longtime Trinity member.

"For me, it took a long time and a lot of talking to even understand the whole concept," she said. "I have learned that God works even through people like me."

The groups have also drawn nonmembers.

Traditional church services — which Trinity still holds — don't do much for Cherrie Wallace, a 43-year-old interior-design consultant. But she looks forward to Friday meetings with her women's group, saying it helps her relate the Bible to her own life.

Still, "we really don't know" exactly where all these changes will lead, said Highum, the congregation president. "It's a big leap of faith for us."

But Schleusner, who belongs to the journal-writing group, sees a cultural change: "Now, when there are ideas, it's like: 'Why not?' "

Janet I. Tu: 206-464-2272 or jtu@seattletimes.com