Dividing small groups is a dumb idea.
I know. Dumb is a strong word. But now that I've got your attention, let's see if you don't come to the same conclusion after we've looked more closely at this strategy's underlying rationale and unintended consequences.
For decades it's been an unquestioned canon within the small-group movement that healthy groups multiply by continually growing and splitting into new groups. Groups that stay together too long are considered stagnant. Those that fail to aggressively add new members are written off as uncommitted to the Great Commission. Any group that insists on remaining together gets tagged as selfish.
Admittedly, dividing to multiply is an idea that looks good on paper. It sounds great at leadership conferences. It's organic, mirroring the cellular growth of the human body. It offers the potential for unlimited kingdom expansion. It encourages people to reach out to the lost. It forces new leaders to step up and take the reins.
No wonder most small group gurus, church consultants, and pastors with a passion for evangelism and church growth swear by the concept.
But what about those who are in a small group? Fact is, they tend to see it differently—very differently. They generally hate the idea. They don't swear by it. They swear at it.
If you don't believe me, start asking people in churches where small groups are pressured to multiply by dividing. Ask them what they think of the empty chair they're supposed to fill during each session, and the expectation that they'll help grow the church by growing and then dividing their group.
Except for pastors, staff members, and church leaders who are professionally responsible for the growth of the church, you'll find that hardly anyone thinks it's a good idea—especially those who are fortunate enough to find a group filled with significant relationships. To most of them it makes no sense at all. After finally finding some people with whom they've closely connected, they don't want to split up and roll the relational dice once again.
It's too risky. It's painful. It's even a little bit cruel.
I've asked many of these folks why they don't simply dig in their heels and say no.
Some tell me they have, only to be written off as uncooperative and spiritually self-centered. Others tell me they've tried to raise their concerns but no one seems to listen. Most tell me they don't want to be branded as unspiritual or selfish, so they shrug their shoulders and go along with the program or quietly drop out at the first opportunity.
While many church leaders are quick to chalk up such responses as spiritually immature, shortsighted, or indicative of a lack of commitment to the larger cause of Christ, I think that's a mistake. It's not that these people are resistant to the Great Commission or don't want their churches to grow. It's simply that for many of them, their small group is the first time they've experienced the authentic and transparent relationships they've always been told Christians should have with one another. It's understandable they're reluctant to let it go. They know the odds of finding it right away in another group aren't too high.
Unintended Consequences
Actually, dividing to multiply can (and often does) work in the short run. But it usually takes only a couple of cycles before the process starts to lose steam and then stalls out. Trying to multiply a small group ministry by division is a lot like bulking up on steroids. After an initial burst of newfound strength and muscle, the unintended consequences start to show up. And when they do, it isn't pretty.
That's one of the major reasons why so many small group ministries built on this pattern seem to go through a significant re-visioning or re-engineering every three to five years. Not realizing the negative effects of continually dividing their groups, churches keep retooling them with the latest hot curriculum, new idea, or novel structure, only to do it again a few years later.
Here are just a few of the most significant problems that dividing to multiply creates.
Relational Overload
I like to say that people are a lot like Legos. Some of us have lots of connectors; some have few. But once those connectors are filled, our capacity for close and significant relationships is maxed out.
We're friendly, but we don't connect. We can't. We're already relationally full.
Small-group ministries that continually divide their existing groups to form new groups ignore this principle. It's inevitable that after a few cycles of splitting healthy groups, the quality of the relationships within the new groups starts to dissipate. That's because members who agree to keep spinning off into new groups have fewer and fewer connectors available with the start of each new group. They may have plenty of physical openings in their group, but they usually have few if any emotional openings in their lives.
The result is a predictable clash of expectations. The newest members join hoping to develop significant relationships. But most of the holdovers aren't looking to fill a relational vacuum. They just want a Bible study with a few new friends. That explains why those who join a group in which half or more of the members come from a previously existing group so often complain that the group is a bit cliquish and hard to break into. In most cases the problem isn't cliquishness. It's a differing set of relational needs, expectations, and capacities.
Certainly, there are some people who are adept at quickly jettisoning old relationships and adding new ones to their inner circle. Like social butterflies, they thrive in an environment of constantly changing relationships. But most of us aren't very good at it. And most of us have no desire to become good at it.
A Lesson from Camp Pendleton
Another unintended consequence of expecting groups to continually divide and multiply for the good of the cause is that it eventually leads to shallower, not deeper, relationships across the board.
When relationships are predictably transitional, most of us instinctively find ways to avoid or lessen the pain of separation. It's human nature. Our church is near a marine base known as Camp Pendleton. Thousands of military families live on base and nearby. Typically, the military moves these families every three years or so, often from West Coast to East Coast. Some families thrive on it. They love the adventure. Others struggle with it. They hate the constant disruption and inability to put down roots.
But I've noticed something that both groups have in common. After a couple of cross-country moves, they learn to keep new relationships at a safe distance. It's not that they aren't friendly. They are. But they also know it won't be long until it's time to pick up and move again. So rather than set themselves up to be hurt too badly when the time comes to say good-bye, they tend to keep most relationships at arm's length—close but not too close. It hurts less that way.
In much the same way, church members who repeatedly experience the death of their small group to start a new group begin to operate in a self-protective mode. They learn to keep relationships at a safe level—one that won't cause them too much hurt when the group disbands.
Mayberry in San Diego
The high mobility of our society has created a culture without roots. The size of our cities, communities, and social institutions (today's midsized church would have been considered huge throughout most of history) has created a culture of anonymity. Combine rootlessness with anonymity, and we have an environment in which significant long-term relationships are hard to come by—even for Christians well connected within their church.
Yet the New Testament assumes we are living out our faith in the context of relationships that are close enough to carry out the 30-plus "one anothers" it commands. What to do? No worry. Small groups will ride to the rescue. At least that's the rhetoric.
In most churches, when small groups are first launched, they're sold as the panacea for the isolation and rootlessness so many of us feel—the perfect tool to provide true community and authentic relationships. We're told they'll make it harder to hide and pretend, while at the same time providing a place for genuine acceptance and the relational stability we intuitively long for.
And for those who try out small groups, this is not just rhetoric. It's fact. They actually work that way.
But when ministry leaders convince people to join a small group to counteract the relational bankruptcy of our culture, and then immediately turn around and tell them that if they love Jesus, they'll split the group right after it jells, the leaders are sending a mixed message at best, a dishonest one at worst.
Either people need the relational stability and deep relationships of a small group or they don't. Church leaders can't have it both ways, pushing people into groups to overcome the ills of a transient, impersonal society and then asking them to ditch the solution not long after it starts to work, just to grow the church larger.
At North Coast church, where I serve as senior pastor, we decided at the beginning that our sermon-based small groups would hold to their original purpose of creating significant and sticky relationships. So rather than ask healthy groups to divide, we not only allow them to stay together as long as they like; we encourage it.
Some have been together for decades. Contrary to what many would predict, they haven't grown stale. But their members have grown older together with a dignity and beauty reminiscent of a time when communities had stability and people had roots.
To me, that's a good thing. If you ask them, it's a great thing.
—Larry Osborne; excerpted from Sticky Church, copyright 2008 by Zondervan. Used with permission.
