Body of Christ: What a Small Prairie Church Taught Me

Editor’s note – Kaye Waugh spent years measuring church by what she could do there – lead worship, teach, serve, use her gifts. Then a congregation of twenty, mostly retirees, on the South Dakota prairie undid that measurement entirely. We’re running her account because it corrects a habit many of us share: treating church health as a ministry resume rather than a family we belong to.

Finding My Place in Church Ministry

I spent my early Christian life deeply involved in church ministry, discovering where and how I fit. I filled my time doing-worship music, youth ministry, outreach, mentorship, teaching and using my spiritual gifts. A local church in Okinawa, Japan, gave me the tools I needed for spiritual growth and became a home for one broken and hurting soul.

During one of my counseling sessions, my pastor and his wife told me that church is a safe place, a place where everyone is welcome. At that point in my life, those words meant more to me than I could fully understand. I needed a safe place, and the church in Okinawa became one for me.

Somewhere along the way, however, my understanding of church began to include not only where I belonged, but what I could do there.

Editor’s note – Notice that in Okinawa, Kaye was already serving – and still searching for a safe place. Ministry without belonging can leave even active believers quietly worn thin.

A Prairie Church Called Pleasant Valley

Years later, under divine providence, my husband Kurt and I found ourselves living in rural South Dakota, in a small town of 180 people called Wessington. I suddenly realized that my world, and my picture of what my next church might look like, had become smaller and smaller.

The prairie church we eventually found was located outside Wessington. Stepping inside Pleasant Valley Church, we saw about twenty active members, most of them seniors. Yet there was something unique and special about this little prairie church. There was a quiet sense of peace and serenity about it, almost as though it were saying, “Welcome home, Kurt and Kaye.”

Immediately following our first church service, an elderly couple named Jack and Ramona approached us. Jack bluntly said, “We want to get to know you guys, so why don’t we have lunch at our home after church?” Not wanting to refuse a free home-cooked meal, we were delighted to accept.

That first lunch with them turned into many lunches, dinners, holiday get-togethers, church activities, weddings, a few funerals, or simply hanging around their house while Jack showed us old black-and-white military photos and shared stories from his years of service with the United States Army.

That friendship became especially meaningful when Kurt was hospitalized. Pleasant Valley maintained a prayer chain, managed by Jack and Ramona’s son Brad, and Kurt’s illness was immediately shared with the congregation, with a request for prayer for his healing and recovery. Brad then drove his parents to the hospital, where they stayed with us, offered comfort, and prayed. Before leaving, they even asked how we were doing financially and offered to help if we needed it.

Once again, people who had entered our lives as strangers were beginning to feel like family.

Editor’s note – Jack and Ramona never asked what Kaye could offer the church. They asked her to lunch. That ordinary hospitality, repeated for years, is what Scripture means by one body caring for its members – not a program, but people showing up.

Twelve People Who Showed Up

In 2012, I made another life-changing decision: I would become a United States citizen. My coworkers at Heartland State Bank and the Wessington community enthusiastically supported me through the process. Still, when my citizenship ceremony was scheduled for Flag Day at Mount Rushmore, something happened that showed me just how deeply our little church had embraced us.

Our pastor canceled the usual Wednesday fellowship so members could make the four-hour trip to support us. Jack and Ramona planned to come with Brad, and I was thrilled just knowing they would be there.

On the day of the ceremony, Jack, Ramona and Brad showed up along with other members of our church family, including our pastor and his wife. Twelve members of our little prairie church had travelled four hours to Mount Rushmore simply to stand with us in support and solidarity.

What Church Is Really For

Many years later, as I look back, I still ask myself: What happened to me, to us? How did these experiences reshape my picture of what a true Christian church looks like? Was it about how many ministries I participated in, how many souls I led to Christ, or the spiritual gifts that seemed to lie dormant while we were part of that small prairie church in South Dakota?

I believe it was all part of God’s plan from the day I was saved by grace. God showed me that there is no perfect church because there are no perfect people – only a perfect God. He revealed to me that regardless of the size, shape, or form of a church building, forever friendships can be formed and enduring relationships can take root in the hearts and souls of believers.

Perhaps I had been asking the wrong question. Scripture does not describe the church by the number of people in its pews or the number of ministries on its calendar. In 1 Corinthians 12, Paul describes believers as one body with many members, each belonging to and caring for the others. “Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it” (1 Corinthians 12:27).

Years earlier in Okinawa, my pastor and his wife told a broken and hurting young Christian that church was a safe place where everyone was welcome. Years later, in a little prairie church I never imagined I would call home, God showed me what those words could look like.

I had spent years wondering where I could use my gifts and what I could do for the church. Perhaps God was teaching me something simpler: before the church is a place where we do, it is a body where we belong.

The church I was looking for? I wasn’t looking for Pleasant Valley Church. But perhaps Pleasant Valley was exactly the church God wanted me to find.

A Word from the Editor
Kaye spent years asking what she could do for a church before Pleasant Valley taught her a better question: whose am I, and who are mine? Paul told the Corinthians they were one body whose parts belong to and need each other (1 Corinthians 12:27). A church proves itself less by its programs than by people who show up.

Editor Comment: Thank you for reminding us, Kaye, that the body of Christ is proven less by its programs than by the ordinary people who show up to share a meal, a hospital room, or a four-hour drive.