We belong to a small local church. Our church is less than a quarter mile from our house; it’s so close that even the toddler can walk there without a stroller. It will be a huge loss to us when we finally move to our farm in Kentucky next year. There is no church at the corner crossroads from our new farm, only an abandoned Amish schoolhouse. We will have to find a new church, and while big doesn’t always equal bad, we’ve found several positive aspects to belonging to a smaller congregation.

I got to thinking about this because I am sitting home on a Sunday morning with my newborn daughter and runny-nosed toddler. Greg is putting out fires at work. My older four children, aged three to nine, absolutely hate missing church. This is a good thing. It’s like cutting off their arm to miss church, and so, they rarely do.

Being close to the church and her people, they don’t have to miss church. There is always someone willing to pick them up and take them. And here’s the rub: They are with their family, even when they’re not. I don’t have to worry that they will get lost in the crowd or that they will be unsupervised. Everyone knows the Scott kids and not just for notorious reasons. They receive both correction and lunch invitations, discipline and love. They are unable to get away Scott-free with anything, as everyone knows them and their parents. I like it this way.

When we first began visiting churches six years ago, we attended the local mega church. They had good music. One problem with the whole situation, though, was that we had to leave thirty minutes early even though the church was only a five minute drive. We only had three children back then, but by the time we signed in everyone, got labeled, got numbered, and got three different beepers and pagers, the morning was half over. It was a big production then with three children, I can’t imagine how long it’d take with six!

One morning, we decided to keep all our children in a mega church service with us. It just made more sense, and it’s not because we read it on the internet. It was Easter morning. Our children are used to sitting still at home during evening readings anyway, so they are pretty good. We were sitting near an exit so that we could leave without disturbing anyone if necessary. Well, it wasn’t long until the baby started babbling quietly. Immediately, an usher approached us and asked us to leave. We left and never went back.

It’s not my style to give anecdotal evidence as support for an argument. I’m not making an argument; there are lots of fine large churches. Not all big churches ask people who might not be saved to leave on Easter morning, but the reality is that you can never know who is who in a crowd of thousands. Our children can run to the van for a forgotten item without us worrying about kidnappers and other shady strangers. Call me shallow, but I just like visiting with folks after church without worrying about keeping all six of my children on tight leashes. (That sentence sounded like Andy Rooney could’ve said it, and that’s how I meant it.) It’s been a blessing to raise a family in a place where everybody knows your name, to borrow a phrase.

Another reason I like our small church is because of the preachin’. I prefer more poignant, convicting sermons. When you’re in a crowd of thousands, it’s easy to assume the preacher is talking to the other guy. When you’re in a small church, it’s very probable the preacher is talking to you, especially if he was at your house this week and saw your kids acting up. Maybe he heard about the time I flung dog poop in the neighbor’s yard. Maybe he read that on my blog.

I like our church of 150 people. We know their names and their trials, and we almost always run into someone when we shop at Publix on Saturdays. In a culture where bigger is almost always better, I prefer to hang my hat at the small local church instead. Your own mileage may vary.