I've been thinking a lot, recently, about rural ministry. I find myself looking after a group of 9 small parishes in rural Norfolk, and the challenges are real! Ageing congregations, increasing second-home ownership in our villages and the often crumbling medieval buildings we care for make for a daunting prospect!
At our recent Team service for the Feast of the Ascension, my colleague Kandi Kammoun (a Licensed Lay Minister in our team) preached a wonderful sermon, which she's given permission for me to reproduce here.
She references our recent Community Changemakers Conference in Haveringland, which was a huge success. This picture was drawn on the day by our graphic recorder, Andy Gray (Drawn Out Meetings) and the sentiment is intended to give us confidence and pride in what we can achieve in these small parishes.
A Sermon for Ascension Day - Kandi Kammoun
Acts 1:1–11 and Luke 24:44–53
Tomorrow in Haveringland is the rural churches conference entitled “Community Change Makers – Re-imagining Rural Churches”. When I was asked to preach tonight, this event was uppermost in my mind; and it occurred to me that the rural church theme sits very naturally alongside the Ascension - that sense of faithful waiting, quiet witness, and Christ’s presence in places the world easily overlooks.
We all can perhaps imagine:
A handful of people gathering in an ancient building. Birdsong outside. Perhaps lambs in the fields beyond the churchyard wall. A kettle boiling in the vestry for drinks after the service. Visitors outside checking names remembered on gravestones, stretching back centuries.
However, sadly there is anxiety too.
Can we keep going? Will there be enough people next year? Does the Church still matter in places like this?
And into those quiet fears, the story of the Ascension speaks with surprising power.
Because the Ascension begins with a small group too.
Not crowds…Not influence…Not success…just a few disciples standing on a hillside outside Jerusalem, uncertain about the future.
Luke tells us that after the Resurrection Jesus spent forty days with them, speaking about the Kingdom of God. Forty days of teaching, eating, praying and preparing.
And yet still the disciples ask: “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?”
Isn’t that a familiar question?
Lord, is this the time you will restore things? Restore the Church? Restore hope? Restore what feels fragile and fading?
I think many rural churches quietly ask questions like that in their hearts. Congregations who remember fuller pews and louder harvest festivals. Villages where the shop and the pub have closed, where the school struggles, the buses come less often, and the church wonders whether anyone notices it anymore.
The disciples knew that feeling too. They stood between memory and uncertainty.
Jesus doesn’t give them a strategic plan; instead he gives them a promise.
“You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you; and you will be my witnesses…”
Witnesses. Hold on to that word because it matters.
Jesus doesn’t say, “You will become successful.” He doesn’t say, “You will become impressive.” He says, “You will be my witnesses.”
Because as I understand it, the calling of the Church is not to be large or fashionable or influential. First of all it is to bear faithful witness to Christ.
And rural churches have always done that beautifully.
Every time prayers are offered in a tiny congregation on a wet November morning, the Church is witnessing. Every time someone unlocks an ancient door and rings a bell across fields and farms, the Church is witnessing. Every time neighbours gather for a baptism…for harvest festival…for a service of remembrance…whether people gather in grief or hope, the Church is witnessing.
You see The Kingdom of God doesn’t depend solely upon size.
The Church began with frightened disciples on a hillside. Then Luke tells us that Jesus led them out as far as Bethany, lifted his hands, and blessed them.
And while he was blessing them, he was taken up.
That detail is quite extraordinary, isn’t it?
Jesus ascends while blessing them.
The final earthly image of Christ is not criticism of their weakness or frustration at their slowness to understand.
It is blessing.
I wonder how many of our rural churches need to hear that. Because it’s easy for small congregations to feel apologetic. To feel they are somehow failures because they are not large, modern, or busy enough.
Christ’s love for his Church is shown in blessing.
He sees faithfulness that the world overlooks…He sees folk who have arranged flowers for forty years and polished brasses and pews. The churchwarden who quietly fixes gutters and unlocks doors. The vicar travelling lonely roads between scattered parishes. The congregations who keep praying even when numbers are small.
The Ascension reminds us that Christ reigns over all these hidden acts of faithfulness.
Luke tells us that two men in white appear - angels with a question:
“Why do you stand looking up toward heaven?”
In other words: don’t become frozen. Don’t become trapped either in nostalgia for the past or fear for the future.
Go back to Jerusalem. Go back to the waiting. Go back to prayer. Go back to the work God has given you.
And indeed the disciples go back into ordinary life; but now they are carrying extraordinary hope.
I believe that is the calling of the Church today - especially in rural places.
Not simply to preserve buildings - though buildings matter… Not merely to survive… To become communities of hope in places where loneliness can run deep.
We should remember that our villages still need the Gospel...
Farmers still need prayer during uncertain seasons… Families still need somewhere to bring their grief… Children still need to hear they are loved by God… The isolated still need companionship… The dying still need comfort… The forgotten still need dignity.
And perhaps rural churches understand something important about the Ascension that busy cities may forget.
The Kingdom of God grows quietly.
Like seed beneath soil… Like prayer whispered in ancient stone walls… Like church bells rolling across fields at dusk.
The Ascension is the story of Christ reigning over all creation - city streets and country lanes alike.
Luke says the disciples returned to Jerusalem with great joy.
Joy, even without certainty. Joy, even without visible success. Joy, because they knew Christ was still with them.
I think that may be the Ascension message for rural churches today...
You are not abandoned. You are not forgotten. Christ still walks the lanes of Emmaus villages. Christ still meets people in bread broken and prayers spoken. Christ still blesses faithful communities, however small.
So let’s keep ringing the bells. Let’s keep opening the doors. Let’s keep praying the prayers. Let’s keep witnessing.
Because the risen and ascended Christ is still at work…often quietly…often slowly…but always faithfully… even in the smallest church at the end of the narrowest lane.
Amen.
