3 Artisan Principles That Could Change Your Church

The Master/Protégé Model

My friend Chris is a master woodworker. He builds custom cabinetry, high-end electronics boxes, and tables that are works of art. A table made by Chris might cost ten times more than one at Target, but when was the last time you saw a Target table in an art show? I would love to be as amazing with a saw and a plane as Chris, but I haven’t spent the hours upon hours – years upon years – developing the skill he has. If I wanted to be a master woodworker like him no amount of spectating will get me there. If I was to have any hope of building anything with even a fraction of the beauty, integrity, or functionality of his work I would need to spend an incredible amount of time alongside him, studying him, and being corrected and encouraged by him. That’s what Jesus did, isn’t it? He took common men and women from varied backgrounds and transformed them into world changers with his own bare hands. Yes, there were times when he addressed the crowds, but his primary ministry focus was as the master to 12 protégés and a slightly larger circle of friends. Then those disciples did the same. Being in a large group can be exciting. Hearing a great speaker can be inspiring. But no pastor can effectively mentor thousands of people alone. If the modern church was to find a way to embrace the master / protégé model that Jesus lived, and to put the large-scale values of industrialism in their proper place and perspective, we might see a more effective, wise, skilled, and compassionate Church growing around us.

Bigger Isn’t Better, Better Is Better

Another corporate value that has had a profound impact on the American church is the sacrament of scale. In more ways that we realize we have been conditioned to see numerical or financial growth as one of the surest signs of health and blessing. Big things are thrilling. Big teams win. Big communities develop their own gravitational pull and momentum. When we see with eyes darkened by the sin of hubris, self-reliance, and idolatry, big things seem to be good things. But sometimes big is just big. Like the oversized checks promoters of lotteries insist their winners hold up for the cameras, big is often a very effective way to over-ride our rational minds and appeal directly to our emotional minds (not that the two are ever really separated.) We get caught up in the big faster than we can discern if it really is better than small. It’s all so very human.

Like Times Square, or Babel. But better is different. Better is when things function the way they are designed to. Better is when people actually know each other, and realize when someone is missing. Better is when someone knows you well enough to recognize when you’re hiding something or acting strange. Better is when the body functions as it is designed to function, with each member doing its part as opposed to one big head and lots of tiny little hands and feet. When neighbors feel appreciated, and the marginalized by society feel valued, that is better. When pastors actually know the members of their flock; that is better. Big is great when it comes to assembly lines and armies and politics. When it comes to church – to being the body of Christ in the world – love is the better way.

Embrace Idiosyncrasies

Consistency is one of the highest values of industrialism. Quirks and anomalies are to be avoided at all costs and corrected when found. Automation is a virtue. The coffee you get at a fast food chain restaurant in Chicago should taste exactly the same as coffee you buy in San Francisco or Florida. Artisans see things differently. Craftsmen find unique ways to express their personality, while making sure that the fruit of their labor is effective and excellent. Appreciators of art value the delicate balance between unique expression and universal relevance. Uniformity tricks us. It allows us to hide our differences and to more quickly assess the value and character of our neighbors. By achieving homogeneity we simplify things. The problem is, it’s a lie. One of the most beautiful mysteries of life is that each of us is unique in infinite ways, and yet we share so many of the same struggles. We’re not paint-by-numbers projects. The factory mentality does its best to reduce each of us to members of one consumer group or another. Many churches do the same. In subtle ways they promote the industrial value of consistency and in ways both subtle and draconian they stamp out they very quirks they should be celebrating.