How the Church Can Be the Village

Member Engagement Director
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This article was originally published by the Human Life Review.
America’s twin epidemics of isolation and low birth rates intersect in the heartbreaking experience of new mothers in America.
In my short time as a mom (we have two toddlers and another on the way), I have spoken with women at libraries, pregnancy centers, churches, and parks. Regardless of background or status, their universal narrative is the same: Mothering in the “little years” is defined by a deep love for their children — but also isolation and a debilitating anxiety about “doing it right.” Many new moms are the only women they know having children. Some have never even held a baby.
Sadly, women in poverty, whose babies are most at risk of being aborted, have even less social capital (community connections) than their middle and upper class counterparts.
In other words, American motherhood is broken — but marriage and babies aren’t the problem. Fewer women are having babies and Americans are more isolated than ever, so new mothers can’t follow in anyone’s footsteps. They don’t know what happens to a woman’s body postpartum, how much to expect of an 18-month-old, or what a happy mothering experience looks like. The typical American woman today lacks a village — a community of women who will support her with not only meals and pediatrician recommendations, but also a late-night phone call when she’s crying alongside the baby, or a prayer in the parking lot when her husband is away for business.
Throughout history, the Church has risen to meet societal needs on a large scale. Monks established the first hospitals. Sisters founded schools across the world to educate impoverished children. Priests started cooperative businesses to create jobs in the wake of the Spanish Civil War. These solutions weren’t just short-term outreach programs or “serve days.” They were — and are — sustainable institutions.
Indeed, as the Church advocates for a culture of life, She can make it possible — attractive even — by helping facilitate that village.
When my second child was born, I was lucky enough to benefit from a church village that was all about giving and receiving. Over the years, they brought me weeks of meals, offered eczema creams and tips on what to do when my baby was covered in red spots, and comforted me through my miscarriage. And when it was my turn to give, I dropped off meals, watched kids during doctors’ appointments, and, alongside my dear friend, coordinated our weekly “New Mom Community Night” for two and a half years. With a commitment to authentic relationships, we were able to create a space where mothers cried over past abuse, whispered timid dreams about the future, and rejoiced as they were baptized alongside their children.
We were committed to each other. During different seasons (Christmas, the summer, the time half the group gave birth within two weeks), we discussed taking a break. The response was always, “No! This group is the highlight of my week. I couldn’t survive without it.” When our church wasn’t able to support us with meals and childcare anymore, we willingly switched to a potluck model and rotated hosting the group in each others’ homes.
I was shocked that something so life-changing could be so simple: a few moms, meeting every week, talking about highs and lows, and sharing some food. That’s it.
Of course, the mother’s group isn’t a new idea. MOPs and similar groups have been blessing church communities for decades. However, I believe we need to start thinking of these groups not just as growth opportunities for committed church members but also as an outreach for mothers at risk of abortion, i.e., as a pro-life ministry.
In the modern Church, we often separate those two facets of Church life: internal ministry and external outreach. Yet mothers’ universal needs (e.g., postpartum depression and anxiety, isolation at home or work, dependence on Instagram for parenting advice, resentment for their husbands) span socio-economic spheres. That means the Church has an incredible opportunity to meet the desperate relational needs of all women—whether they bought a $5 thrift store crib or a $1700 self-rocking bassinet.
Of course, a mother dealing with poverty does often bring extra needs to the table: underemployment, unreliable transportation, or a dangerous boyfriend. Yet, where better to learn about new jobs, used cars, and respectful relationships than a loving community?
This isn’t all theory, either. Several women who attended our group had overwhelming needs. Of course, no charity program has a quick fix, and often, you only see changes when looking back after years. Even so, beautiful stories from our community emerged: A very young mom with no transportation eventually made friends in the group who took her grocery shopping and drove her and her baby to the hospital one night. Another friend, who had no example of what order in a family looked like, began weekly finance and planning meetings with her boyfriend after learning that this system helped another woman in the group stay on the same page with her husband. And one mom, after learning her abortion was not something she should “just get over,” experienced profound healing at a Rachel’s Project retreat she learned about through the community.
None of this “ministry” was part of our regular programming. It’s just what you do for your friends.
A mother’s support group is not just an outreach ministry that tells someone about Jesus and hands out some food or clothing: It welcomes struggling individuals into the culture and family of the Church.
So, how to begin?
In order to facilitate this pro-life ministry in your church, you’ll need to start with two or three welcoming, nurturing leaders deeply committed to the value of relational ministry. I’d suggest each group leader take a training course like “Beyond Volunteering,” or read through Becoming Whole. Resources like these enable a fundamental shift in one’s image of charity from filling another’s empty bowl to walking alongside them for the long-haul.
These leaders also need husbands who are committed to this important work. They will be the ones to comfort their wives after hearing a particularly heartbreaking story, to encourage them to persevere with a mother who seems hardened to the world, and to take the children to the backyard so moms can discuss sensitive topics.
The leaders can coordinate potluck-style meals and where the group should meet (i.e., a church nursery, outdoor playground, or in a group member’s home). If the church has extra resources and volunteers, it can even provide meals and childcare (though those things aren’t necessary). We learned that authentic connection is the most important element.
To help kick off conversation, you can bring in outside experts (we had everyone from financial planners to lactation consultants) or work through a class like Faith and Finances or Love and Logic together.
To get the word out to the broader community, we partnered with local pregnancy resources centers and nonprofits, hosted advertising events like “maternity clothing swaps,” and even messaged women who posted about their loneliness on local motherhood facebook groups.
This kind of ministry taps into an extremely underused volunteer base — mothers. Moms of young kids often can’t volunteer at pregnancy centers or other ministries because they aren’t allowed to bring their children along. This ministry actually thrives when the host’s children are running outside with everyone else’s.
Just earlier this week, I was speaking to a neighbor pregnant with her first baby. She shared her anxiety about losing time for hobbies, going back to work after a short maternity leave, and a changing relationship with her husband. I asked if she had a support system. “I have you” she replied hopefully, “and I was thinking I should join some kind of moms group, but I have no idea where to find one.”
Little did she know that within walking distance, St. Mary’s hosts a weekly get-together of mothers, where moms discuss everything from prayer life with a newborn to passing down old toddler coats. Sadly, the group hadn’t advertised outside the church walls, so if I hadn’t been there to tell her, how would she have known?
A village of Christian mothers is an immense gift that we can share with a world desperate for connection. Let’s not hide our light under a bushel.
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