art by: Andrey Gordeev
“Good evening and welcome to our church,” said small, middle-aged women whom forcefully reached for my hand. Her hand was sweaty and small; the sharp nails of her tiny fingers dug into my palm as I firmly grasped her hand, simultaneously moving up and down.
“Good evening and thanks,” I said with a half smile, all while trying to retrieve my hand. I began to move past her as she stepped forward, blocking my path.
“You’re new here aren’t you?” she asked, still smiling.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, mustering up my smile again. I didn’t want to talk to her. I didn’t want to know her name or where the bathrooms were, I just wanted to go into the auditorium, find a seat, sip my Fiji water and enjoy the service in solitude.
I could tell that wasn’t going to happen.
“What’s your name?” She stepped in front of my path once again. Instantly I felt like I was in the mall, and I just got suckered into a soap sales pitch by one of those gorgeous Israeli women. Although this woman was neither gorgeous or Israeli – she was a greeter who was trained to make people like me feel welcome.
She was failing – miserably.
“My name is Patrick,” I said. “And yours?”
“Marilyn,” she said, never breaking from her smile. I was beginning to wonder if she practiced smiling at home, training her cheeks for hours to never break from the facial posture. “And where are you from?”
I knew if I answered this question it was going to open the shallow conversation floodgates. Granted, from the outside, I have an interesting life and it was sure to invite a plethora of probing questions.
Now I totally understand that a church is a faith community coming together to celebrate, grow and serve. I guess what I don’t understand is, is why do churches think that welcoming visitors has to look like this.
Let’s shift gears and deviate from my story just for a bit.
I travel a lot. Everyday, in fact. Every night I find myself in a different hotel room in a different city. There are few places these days where I can just go to relax and let my guard down.
Bookstores are my home away from home. That’s right, I am a nerd.
I love bookstores. I am a bookstore addict. Borders or Barnes & Noble are holy places for me. The sights, the smell, and the conversations—I love it all.
I feel at home the moment I open the large wooden doors. With my large soy cappuccino warming my hand—my soul begins to rejoice in this literary and intellectual paradise.
I spend hours there, reading and having conversations with the most random people. Sometimes I slip my iPod in my side pocket, sit and read in solitude; sometimes I join in on conversations about business, poetry or politics.
Anyway, back to Mrs. Church Greeter.
“I’m currently living in Los Angeles,” I said, making a half a step toward the auditorium.
“Wow, that’s a long way from up here,” Marilyn said, stepping in my path once again. “What are you doing way up here?”
“For my job,” I said. “Nothing exciting really.”
“And what is…” she attempted to ask me the usual follow-up question before I interrupted her.
“Well, it was nice meeting you, Marilyn. Looks like the service is starting.” I extended my hand once again. She paused, glanced in the direction of the auditorium, and in a moment of confusion her smile faded into a brief look of disappointment.
“Looks that way.” she said. “Enjoy the service then.”
I walked into the auditorium and found a seat near the back. The plush purple auditorium chairs felt nice as I sat down and enjoyed the solitude. The band began their set and I started to relax, spending some much needed time with God.
After three songs, the worship leader approached the microphone as the rest of the band scattered in different directions.
I knew what was coming. I could feel it in my bones and I mentally prepared myself for what was about to occur.
“Thanks for coming tonight. Stand up and meet at least three people.”
“Here we go again,” I thought to myself while I wiped my moist hand off on my jeans.
“Hi there, I’m Patrick,” I said to one person. I received a nod and a firm hand shake back from a man in his fifties.
“Hi there, I’m Patrick,” I repeated to a teenage guy who gave me a dead fish and turned away.
“Hi there, I’m Patrick,” I said to a cute girl in her twenties. Maybe this won’t be as bad as I thought.
“Hi there. I’m Beth and this is my husband, Chris.”
Frick.
“Hi there, I’m Patrick,” He shook my hand and we all sat down.
As I sat and tried to wipe strangers’ germs off on my jeans, I question why I put myself through this every week.
Why can’t I just walk in and attain the same anonymity as I do in bookstores? I mean sure, if I want to talk to someone at Borders, I feel totally comfortable to do so. Whether the café worker or a bookseller or sometimes even a total stranger—I feel socially safe in bookstores. I have no pressure for forced social interaction.
I mean could you imagine this situation going down at Barnes & Noble? A woman with a plastic smile greets you at the door, asks you your name and all these probing questions about what you do, and won’t allow you to do what you originally came to do—read and relax.
Then, after you do escape greeter girl, about ten minutes into your coffee and the latest copy of ‘Wired,’ you hear the following announcement over the store intercom. “Good evening Barnes & Noble guests, we want to take a few minutes and have you greet one another, so go ahead and shake three hands of people you don’t know and ask them what their favorite café drink is, which by the way is located right near our travel section.”
Churches need to learn that you can’t force community. And as absurd as the Barnes & Noble situation is, this happens every week all over the country, most likely at your church.
Community happens in the form of small groups and relationships that form naturally. These relationships don’t stem from 30-second awkward meet and greets in a large group context. Community happens in living rooms or around kitchen tables, over a dark brew or a dark roast. Nowhere else in my life but in church am I expected to engage in awkward social encounters.
Church marketing isn’t just about advertising or your web site, it is about the overall church experience. Companies like Apple and Starbucks place a huge priority on customer experience and what they do isn’t revolutionary and doesn’t cost a lot of money. They achieve a balance of customer service and being respectful of personal space.
Here are some ways your church can improve your marketing by way of visitor experience:
Do away with door greeters and install a welcome center. Let people approach volunteer staff with questions. Provide the visitor center with campus maps, Bibles and general church information. People are used to approaching store personnel with questions. This extends to the church.
Give people space.
This doesn’t mean you can’t introduce yourself, but be conscience of body language. Some people want to be alone. Be respectful of that.
Avoid any sort of forced social interaction.
It just plain sucks to have to be forced to shake hands with people you don’t know, didn’t want to meet and don’t (let’s be honest) care about. Never force visitors to do anything.
Never, ever single visitors out.
Never have visitors stand up. This is a sure fire way to have a zero return rate.
Throw a ten-minute party.
After the service, have a ten-minute party exclusively for visitors. Visitors won’t mind being around other noobs. Have some free coffee, have church resources available, and be around to answer questions. But don’t be pushy, do mirror body language and don’t be afraid to ask deeper questions.
Just be real and promote an authentic atmosphere by letting people have their space. Spend some time in a bar or coffee shop, do some research and observe how the environment is set up—how people interact.
And above all, wash your hands before you shake my hand.
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