"We're way over the top at this point, folks," Phil said, shaking his head as he reviewed the numbers. Building a new church always seems to cost more than planned. Was it indicative of churches, or just a fact of new construction? He didn't know. This was only the second time he'd been a part of a building project this extensive. But the cost overruns were going to test his leadership as pastor. Each board member had a pet project, and no one was willing to have his or her piece of the puzzle dismissed.

"So it looks like it's time to do some serious belt tightening and prioritizing," he continued, as he looked at the faces of his board.

"It might not be as serious as all that," said his chairman, Dale McDonald. Dale had a gift for getting to the bottom line quickly. "All we really need to do, it seems to me, is make two lists: one list for the necessary stuff, and one for the optional stuff. And then prioritize from there."

Everyone nodded their agreement—everyone except Bill Loyd. "Your strategy sounds simple enough, but the problem remains," he said. "I'm waiting to see which projects are deemed necessary and which ones are deemed optional, and the rationales used to make those determinations. And that might take a while."

Dale took no offense. He simply shook his head and said, "No it won't. We need windows, we need doors, we need a paved parking lot or no one's going to come to church when it snows. We need carpet…"

"Not really," Neal, the newest board member, interrupted matter-of-factly. Neal was also fairly new to the church, so the others were surprised that he spoke up so quickly and easily.

Dale shared in that surprise. "What do you mean we don't need carpeting? Of course we do!"

Neal was undaunted. "The vast, vast, vast majority of churches in the world don't have carpeting. They also don't have glass windows or air conditioning. I just want to make sure we keep clear in our minds what determines needs and what determines wants. There is nothing in my Bible that says Jesus saw carpeting, air conditioning, and a paved parking lot as prerequisites for effective ministry."

Phil smiled. He'd only been Neal's pastor for a little over a year since Neal had arrived but had been impressed by his no-nonsense perspective on issues. While others tended to accept things as they were and go with the flow, Neal could easily stop things in their tracks with a question. He assumed nothing.

Dale collected himself, being careful not to tangle lightly with an apparently deeply principled challenge. "I appreciate the sentiment, Neal. I've been on our summer mission trips, too, and I know what much of the world lives without. But we're in the States, and to effectively minister to people here, we need a certain level of—shall we say—finished comfort."

Neal nodded. "Point well made, Dale, so long as the driving rationale is ministry."

So Dale continued: "And of course we need an adequate sound system…"

"Two sound systems," Neal added quietly.

"Why two?" Dale responded. "We only have one auditorium."

"We need one inside and one outside," Neal answered. "What I mean is, we need an adequate, well-designed, changeable sign."

Bill Loyd spoke up this time and with a somewhat confused look on his face. "Neal, I agree with you about the underlying rationale being ministry; that's a very good filter. But you were just talking about absolute needs and wants here, and I don't see a sign as an absolute need. We have a construction sign out there that can be repainted and used for the foreseeable future. Our cost overruns are serious."

"I agree that the cost overruns are serious, Bill," Neal said. "So if we're going to cut the sign out, then let me suggest we get a good karaoke machine as a sound system."

"You're joking right?" Dale asked incredulously.

"Not at all."

Dale's face grew flush with anger. "That's ridiculous. This building is costing us hundreds of thousands of dollars. We're not going to use a karaoke machine for a sound system," he said dismissively.

Again, Neal was calm and deliberate, almost probing. "And why not?"

"Because it wouldn't do the job!" Dale retorted.

"So you're afraid some people wouldn't be able to hear and therefore participate in the service, am I right?" Neal asked, undeterred by Dale's clear irritation.

"Exactly!" Dale answered testily. "If we don't have an adequate sound system, then half the auditorium won't be able to hear; they can't be a part of the service, and they'll feel disenfranchised. We'll end up sending two messages—both of them bad: either they aren't worth talking to, or what Phil and the rest of the leadership are doing up front isn't worth hearing. In both cases, people will vote with their feet and leave." Then he added, "I can't believe I'm having to spell this out."

Phil began to shake his head slowly and chuckle. Dale turned to his pastor, whom he felt he had just defended, and said coolly, "I fail to see the humor in all of this."

Phil looked at Dale and said, "It's just that it appears Neal has led you exactly where he wanted you to go."

Neal then spoke up kindly. "Don't you see, Dale: the sign is the sound system for the neighborhood. Without an adequate, engaging sign, people passing by the church automatically feel disenfranchised. And unless the sign gives messages that are relevant to them, we again would be sending one of two messages—and both are bad: either those people aren't worth talking to, or we're not worth visiting. These people also vote with their feet—they keep driving."

"But I don't see why repainting the construction sign doesn't accomplish that," Bill interjected.

"Because all a sign like that says is: this is where and when this church meets to do what this church does, and there's really no need for the general public to know anything more than that, unless, of course, you have some history with our denomination. It's a minimalist approach, and it comes off as an afterthought. And the message our neighborhood receives is loud and clear: you're not worth the money or the effort."

Neal continued, "I was very active in my church before my company moved me here, but I must tell you, I would never have found this place to begin with, or given it a second thought when I did, without being personally invited by the Darrows. There was nothing about this property that in the least made me want to walk across that hundred feet of no-man's-land between the curb and the front door. And there are a lot of people who never have a chance to be invited by the Darrows or anyone else&mdashpeople who everyday are marching inexorably toward their eternal destinies but don't have a clue what's at stake."

Neal stopped for a moment, and then in a more thoughtful tone added, "People don't join churches; people join people. If we have a sign out there, adequately designed for 40 mile-per-hour traffic, that we change once or twice a week, we let people know they are worth inviting. By making the effort, we let them know we care.

"And if we put thoughts on the sign that are relevant to them and the issues they are facing," Neal continued, "they will know we live in the same world they do, that we struggle with the same things they do but maybe have some answers. If we show them we have a sense of humor, that we are real people, we might be able to create enough trust and curiosity to get them across that no-man's land—even without a personal invitation.

"I visited here once because I was invited," Neal said. "But I became a member because I felt this church was called to be the community of God on this piece of real estate and for this surrounding community. I hope that we're not going to fold in on ourselves, spending whatever is left on us and forgetting why God called us here, just because the budget is tight."

Everything was still for a few moments. Then Dale, who had begun quietly to nod his head in agreement, smiled and said, "So…does anyone have any objection to putting a new sign on the 'necessary' list?"

This article first appeared in Your Church magazine.