THE MICROCHIP CHURCH*

William H. Willimon

There was this boy in my class in high school. He was the most out-of-it person I knew. He wore shoes with laces, white shirts and white socks, and used Vitalis. He was always talking about how interesting some algebra problem was on last night’s homework.

You can imagine my surprise on meeting this fellow at a high-school reunion and learning that he now lives in California overlooking the beach—one of those exclusive places where everyone is into consciousness-raising and owns a Doberman. He came to the reunion with a beard and blue jeans and driving a Rolls. It turns out that this guy has invented a computer game. He thought it up one night while watching “Family Feud.” He programmed the game that night after the show, set up his own company the next morning, and had already sold over $2 million worth of stock before dinner that evening. By the next day the stock had divided twice; needless to say, he is now very, very well off. I haven’t actually seen the game, but it is something about a family of gnomes who are trying to find the Holy Grail through a maze of monsters.

He is now working on a game he wouldn’t say much about, in which the gnomes set up a theme amusement park after they find the Grail. The computer takes them through the adventures of setting up their own corporation. Atari is said to be positively frantic over the prospect.

So I went home from the high-school reunion depressed as the devil. “That could have been me,” I thought.

Why him? Sure, I was never too good in algebra, but I’ve always had a storehouse of good ideas. Look at me, 38, living in a Methodist parson-age and driving a Dart. Look who’s Mr. Out-of-It now. There is the fabulous, brave new world of computers and here is the church. There is Columbus launching out into unexplored territory and here I am, staying home, perfecting the Gregorian chant.

But that was yesterday. You’ve heard of the electronic church. Well, I now serve the first microchip church. While other pastors are sipping coffee at Ministerial Association meetings and visiting nursing homes, I have been quietly putting together a computerized ministry conglomerate. Friends ask, “How do you do it?” It’s a simple blend of economic savvy and good old American ingenuity.

It is somewhat odd that I should be presiding over a multimillion-dollar church. In seminary, nobody thought that I showed much promise for ministry. One of my professors told me after I took his liturgics exam that I ought to consider using my talents in real estate rather than in administering the Eucharist.

My entry into the new age of computers began when I contemplated leading the upcoming fall Bible study group, a job I’ve always detested. As always, it was going to be on Paul. I thought of all those long hours in the church parlor getting more and more depressed at the idea. Then it occurred to me: Why not devise a game to do it for me—a “Pac-Man” for Paul?

I took a crash course in programming at our local Radio Shack. In two weeks, I had what is, as far as I know, the first computerized Bible action game. Using a little stick and a television screen, the computer takes a tiny Paul on his journey through Asia Minor. Jail, beatings, thorns in the flesh, Judaizers, the circumcision party—they’re all there. The player has to figure out how Paul is going to make it to his heavenly reward in Rome.

The United Methodist Bible study group loved it. They would never go back to the old way of Bible study. The church parlor, which used to be adorned with large wing chairs, two sofas and a Sallman’s Head of Christ, is now this country’s first Christian video arcade. I have since added a number of neat games such as “Samson and the Philistines” and “Ten Difficult Sayings of Jesus Made Easy.” Needless to say, the kids love it. How many churches do you know that have to run the teen-agers out of the church in the evening in order to lock up?

We are now negotiating with a number of denominational publishing houses to market our line of Bible-based video games, although Sears may be our best prospect. I predict that in four or five years the familiar Sunday-school quarterly will be as antiquated as a Temperance Society pledge card is today and my church, thanks to royalties and residuals from our software, will make the income of the Crystal Cathedral look like that of the little church in the wildwood.

Things went so well with our first foray into the world of computers that we decided to computerize everything in the church. We bought a new IBM system with terminals in all the church offices. As a means of pastoral care, the computer is virtually limitless. Everybody in my church is now on our computer, with their complete personal information and record of giving. At the punch of a button we can send everyone a birthday card, anniversary card, recognition of any personal event in their lives, or a reminder of how far behind they are on their pledge. Every day our computer pulls people’s names and makes a personal call to them (using a recording of my voice) which goes something like this: “Hello, [name inserted]. This is your pastor. Just wanted you to know that I was thinking about you in my prayer time this morning. Isn’t this the day you married [or divorced, were robbed, graduated, got certified, were promoted, or fired, or 200 other categories of human experience] last year? Why, certainly I remembered. How could I forget? Good-bye, (X).”

How many traditionalist pastors do you know who can do this?

Our computer is now our number-one evangelism aid. We have an on-line connection with the local police station, family court, credit bureau, and electric company. We receive a printout each day of everyone who moves into town, everyone who is arrested, all filings for divorce and child custody, and upcoming cases in civil court. Talk about matching the gospel to human need! Imagine the impression we make on a family who has just had the lights turned off for nonpayment of their electric bill when a church team shows up offering to have prayer with them. A year ago, we couldn’t have done that.

We also utilize our electronic genius for more activist concerns. Within minutes I can send personal letters to every congressperson in our state’s delegation, each letter signed by a member of our congregation, protesting some pending legislation. Can you imagine the impact on a politician of receiving a thousand letters in a day expressing righteous indignation over his vote yesterday?

When the bishop tried to move me last year because of the complaints of a group of malcontents in the congregation—conservative Neanderthals who don’t know a cathode-ray tube from a concordance—guess who got a thousand personal letters expressing shock and dismay? We are also able to send personalized sympathy cards and get-well cards to any district superintendent in our conference. Some people sit around and wait for the Holy Spirit to work; I prefer to peck out new programs that make a few things happen when they ought to.

While other pastors are pounding the pavement, knocking on doors, beating out sermons, I have just sent letters to every charismatic female over the age of 35 with a college degree who owns her own home and has an income of over $30,000 a year, to tell each one personally about our special upcoming Labor Day service. I am writing this article on my word processor, which automatically filters out bad spelling, incorrect grammar, and homiletical clichés at the touch of a button.

Think of what Martin Luther could have done with this technology!

When Will Willimon wrote this piece 20 years ago, it was pretty easy to take it as farce—a satirical look at the emerging strange new world of computers. “How silly,” many laughed. “That could never happen . ” And yet, as we now know, his piece was less satiric than it was prophetic. Today we are awash in computerized Bible games, pastoral-care software, and church management systems that track members’ personal information and giving records. As Willimon cynically predicted, at the punch of a button, churches and synagogues can send birthday cards, anniversary cards, and recognition of personal events—as well as reminders of how far behind members are on their pledges. Phone trees enable congregations to make “personal calls” to members. Everything Willimon had us smirking at has happened. Technology is so much a part of contemporary congregational culture that nobody raises an eyebrow about it anymore.

This widespread computer use is both good and bad. It’s good, because people of faith need to adapt technology to their ministry needs. We have a long history of having done so. First it was recording oral traditions on papyrus with ink. Then it was on to the printing press. Next came typewriters. Today it’s computers, PDAs, and cell phones

But this pervasive use of technology can also be bad—often because we blindly accept and use it without asking the big questions. Questions such as, “Is it appropriate to our mission and ministry?” or “Just because it’s available, or because First Megachurch uses it, does that mean we should?”

And that’s one of the best things about Willimon’s piece. It reminds us of those questions. Helping your congregation find your answer to those questions is this book’s purpose. We’re going to help your congregation explore technology and its tools. That way you can decide, from a ministry and cultural standpoint, what you need to do.

We’re uniquely qualified to assist you in looking at these questions and thinking about the role of technology in your congregation. That’s because, since its inception in 1997, the Indianapolis Center for Congregations has worked with over 400 congregations around the issue of congregations and technology. We have helped congregations with technology-related topics such as finding and funding hardware, Internet usage, congregation management software (CMS), and much more. As part of its work, in 1998 the Center began its innovative Computers and Ministry Grants Initiative (CMGI). This program was designed to help congregations address the challenges in using computer technology for important ministries to their members and constituencies. CMGI worked with 102 congregations. It awarded almost 2 million dollars in matching grants for hardware, software, training, service, and support.

We were faced with a dilemma in February 1998 when the Center created the “Computers and Ministry” courses. Our primary goal was to give a broad background of what was available in the area of technology for congregations. We weren’t going to train congregations on the specifics of any hardware or software; we assumed that someone somewhere had created a program like that. We were wrong. We had to design it ourselves—so we did.

Aaron and Nancy were the two primary developers of CMGI. They did so based on their expertise in technology and congregations. That expertise continues today.

Aaron’s work for the Center includes resource consulting with area congregations on better use of technology in enhancing congregational effectiveness and efficiency. He also manages the Center’s in-house technology systems and various database and information systems projects. Since 1983, he has operated ARS Productions, a consulting firm specializing in technology solutions for congregations, nonprofit institutions, and businesses. A transdenominational rabbi, Aaron holds rabbinic ordination from both Rabbinical Seminary International and The Rabbinical Academy of Mesifta Adas Wolkowisk.

Nancy is the Center’s finance director. She’s a former church administrator who specializes in the area of computer technology. She has served as a business administrator and consultant to several Indianapolis congregations. Just before coming to the Indianapolis Center for Congregations, Nancy was Director of Finance and Computer Services at St. Luke’s United Methodist Church in Indianapolis, one of the largest United Methodist churches in the Midwest.

Unlike Aaron and Nancy, Brent isn’t a computer expert. He does know how to log on every morning. That’s it. He’s just a technology user. But as the Center’s executive vice president and the person responsible for communicating what we’re learning, he has sat through many of the CMGI classes and reunions. In doing so, he’s heard how technology has made a difference, both good and bad, in congregational life. He is a writer, too. And so he, as a nontechie, is translating what Aaron and Nancy have learned into plain language.

In this book we’re going to use what we have learned to help you explore how your congregation can use technology. We’re not going teach you how to develop software or use technology so that, like Willimon’s fictional pastor, you can bring in so much money that it’ll “make the income of the Crystal Cathedral look like that of the little church in the wildwood.” It’s not our goal to turn you into “The Microchip Church—or Synagogue.” We will help you design technology uses that fit with your ministry and mission. Our goal is Godly service—not technological glitz. Still, it’s obvious that there’s no question that your congregation is going to use computer technology. The only question is “how?”.

Let’s take a look at how some congregations have answered that question.

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