COLUMBUS, Ind. — His title actually has been senior lead pastor. But Jerry Day Jr. could very well be Lead Laugher at The Ridge, and that mostly at himself. One example surfaced in a recent, comic video clip shown at church.
In scene spoofing a leadership meeting, a Ridge staff discussion focused on what future ministry will look like. But a straw-hatted, sunglass-sporting Day, at the time a month away from the sudden splash of retirement, was oblivious, fishing a few feet away from everyone in a children’s wading pool.
“Jerry? Uh, Jerry?” they said, trying to get his day-dreaming attention.
Make no mistake, Day has been so serious about laughter in 31 years of local ministry that it is actually a part of The Ridge’s written, guiding principles. But he also has deftly used humor amid videos and more especially in the past few years to reach with God’s love people largely unaccustomed to church — or those who say they were soured by a years-ago childhood experience of a Sunday service too harshly judgmental amid an already tough personal time.
“Who would want to go to a place like that?” Day asked, sitting in a comfortable lounge room at The Ridge on Bonnell Road in Columbus. “Who would want to leave church feeling worse than when they came?”
The 61-year-old Columbus native, a preacher’s kid who assumed the pastorate of then-Berean Bible Church from his namesake father in 1997, marks his last day Sunday in a taped interview to be shown at a streamed service at theridge.org. He and his leadership team have championed a mission to spread the gospel the past few years under a banner proclaiming doing “whatever it takes” to lead others to a relationship with God.
“I just felt like God seared that vision onto my heart,” he said. “And I never sensed that he moved me from that.”
Learning to face adversity
So, like any senior minister, he has withstood plenty of adversity doing whatever it takes. That has included pushback from traditionalists who didn’t always understand the idea of using creative, polished drama presentations, pop-rock Christian worship tunes with modern lighting, and a more-casual, near-concert atmosphere with everyday, non-religious language to attract people to a Jesus in an arts-awash culture.
“I think that I may have been a bit naïve about how people would respond (to a different vision of ministry),” he said, looking back at years ago and now understanding that different Christians have different approaches. “I figured I was a little naïve in assuming that people would automatically get behind almost any vision of reaching people for Christ.”
A national study highlighted in Thom Rainer’s 2005 book “Breakout Churches” showed that only about .02 percent of Christian churches were able in that era to make a dramatic transition in growth without changing pastors.
But Day and his leadership team ultimately have had their share of support, averaging more than 1,100 people weekly before COVID-19 hit (and a few years ago, that number was even higher). But he himself never mentions such figures. If he has had any success in ministry, he said it has come in working alongside others to create a place for “those who don’t normally do church” to build their Christian faith in an atmosphere in which people can be vulnerable and real.
Among skeptical, lifelong nonchurchgoers who have embraced the Christian faith in recent years via The Ridge have been people such as Day’s own mother-in-law, Ann Harsh.
Day prizes how God has worked to change lives among people long divorced from worship services. A number of those people have connected with Day’s self-deprecating humor — and plentiful stories from a mischievous childhood and young adulthood, including climbing onto the roof of a friend’s house so they could launch small water balloons at slowly passing vehicles.
Ridge board member Mark Malburg has worked alongside Day since 1995 and has even co-led with Day a few church talks — never called sermons, by the way, since many have told Ridge leadership that the simple word conveys to them a browbeating connotation.
“In the Bible, Paul referring to poets is no different than us referencing a movie (clip) or contemporary song,” Malburg said. “Jerry was trained as a missionary (in Germany). He once said that when you’re a missionary, you go into a culture … and you listen to their music and speak their language. And he has asked, ‘What is the culture and language of Columbus, Indiana?
“Because we need to speak that language as a church.’”
Connection points
Malburg calls movies, music, drama, sports and more — common topics at The Ridge — “connection points” for the unchurched. And Day’s staffers talk relentlessly about his commitment and disciplined approach to that, and much more.
So much so that he’s spent the past seven years in activities such as triathlons and marathons and fitness. The former Bryan College baseball centerfielder wanted to get back into shape so badly after his and wife Janet’s three children were grown that he began twice-weekly sessions with local personal trainer Ben Weaver.
“Fitness allows me to challenge myself,” he said, “and I love the results it brings.”
Plus, he already is a certified personal trainer via the American Council on Exercise, and plans to make use of such expertise in semi-retirement by helping others, maybe especially those 50ish plus, with fitness.
Ridge Operations Pastor Mike Morrow, who has worked with Day since 1990, points to his recent blog on Day when asked about the leader’s strongest trait. Morrow cannot say enough about Day’s day-to-day integrity in an age of morally wayward or fallen leaders.
“I have said for years, “I would fight hell with a water pistol for Jerry Day,’” Morrow said.
“Anyone can lead when things are calm, but it takes a real leader with real convictions to lead through deep weeds. Jerry has had the conviction and the tenacity to see us through some of the deepest weeds a church could go through. We also have had a lot to celebrate along the way, and Jerry was willing to make personal sacrifices to see our vision become reality.”
Day cannot promise he will keep all emotions in total check come Sunday online when he officially steps down to make way for current lead pastor Adam Johnson. But somewhere amid whatever wistfulness there might be, one has to figure there will be room for humor — especially for a guy who embarrassingly once married a couple at their ceremony by asking amid their vows if they would remain faithful “till death do you part.”
Only the word “part” clearly came out all horribly wrong and the duo cracked up in front of the well-meaning minister.
So he has learned to take his mission super seriously, and himself not so seriously.
“Life’s far too hard,” he said, “not to be able to laugh and smile.”
