When Church Looks Like Network Marketing (Part Two)

In Part One, I explored why church and network marketing can feel similar.

Both rely on relationships.

Both grow through word of mouth.
Both involve invitation, commitment, and community.

For a long time, that comparison made sense to me—because I’ve lived in both worlds. I’ve been involved in network marketing for years. I understand how momentum works, how encouragement fuels growth, and how belief in what you’re offering makes all the difference.

But here’s what I didn’t fully understand at first:

The danger isn’t noticing the similarities.
The danger is stopping there.

Because when church is treated too much like a network marketing organization, something subtle but important starts to break.

And it took me a while to see it.

When Metrics Quietly Replace Ministry

In network marketing, numbers matter. They have to.

Volume. Rank. Growth. Retention.
Those metrics tell you whether something is working.

Churches don’t talk about “metrics” the same way—but they exist all the same.

Attendance numbers.
Offering totals.
Volunteer counts.
Program participation.

None of those things are wrong on their own. But somewhere along the way, I realized how easy it is for good measurements to become primary motivations.

When growth becomes the goal instead of the fruit.

When people are celebrated more for showing up than for being known.

When success feels louder than transformation.

That’s when church starts drifting into territory it was never meant to occupy.

The Pressure Problem

Network marketing carries pressure by design.

You feel it when you’re expected to recruit.
When you’re encouraged to “push through.”

When positivity becomes mandatory and doubt feels like failure.

What surprised me was recognizing similar pressure in church environments—not always spoken, but often felt.

Pressure to attend every service.
Pressure to serve quickly.
Pressure to plug in, give, commit, align.

Again, none of those things are inherently bad.

But pressure changes the posture.

Jesus never pressured people into faith.
He invited them.

“Follow me” wasn’t a quota—it was an open door.

When church shifts from invitation to obligation, people don’t feel drawn—they feel weighed down.

And I’ve felt that weight before.

Why the Gospel Can’t Be Sold

This is where the comparison finally fell apart for me.

Products—even good ones—solve temporary problems.
Faith addresses eternal ones.

In network marketing, clarity and persuasion are essential. You explain benefits. You overcome objections. You help people see value.

But the Gospel doesn’t work that way.

Jesus isn’t a product to be positioned.
Salvation isn’t an offer to be optimized.
Faith isn’t a funnel.

The moment we try to sell the Gospel, we reduce it.

Because transformation doesn’t happen through convincing arguments—it happens through encounter, surrender, and grace.

That realization changed how I view “sharing” my faith.

My Personal Shift

For a long time, I subconsciously treated faith the same way I treated business.

If I shared it well enough, maybe it would “work.”
If I explained it clearly, maybe someone would “buy in.”

But faith isn’t about outcomes I can track.

Now, my focus is different.

I try to show up consistently.
I try to listen more than speak.
I try to love people without attaching a result to it.

I don’t need to close anything.

I just need to be faithful.

A Healthier Way Forward

Church was never meant to run like a business—even a well-intentioned one.

It was meant to be a place of presence, not performance.
A place of patience, not pressure.
A place where people are welcomed before they are counted.

The Kingdom of God doesn’t advance through quotas.
It advances through quiet faithfulness.

It grows in hospital rooms.
In kitchen table conversations.
In hard seasons when someone chooses grace over bitterness.
In ordinary people choosing obedience when no one is watching.

That kind of growth doesn’t trend.
It doesn’t chart well on spreadsheets.
It doesn’t always look impressive from the outside.

But it changes lives.

And maybe that’s what I’ve been relearning.

Faith isn’t something I manage.
It’s something I live.

Church isn’t something I build.
It’s something I belong to.

The Gospel isn’t something I sell.
It’s something that saved me.

If church ever starts to feel like a strategy session instead of a sanctuary, maybe it’s time to pause. Not to criticize—but to recalibrate.

Because at its core, church isn’t about scaling up.

It’s about slowing down enough to love people well.

And that’s the difference that finally became clear to me.

Till Next time,

But before anyone walks away thinking I believe numbers don’t matter — let me be clear.

They do.

Churches need attendance.
They need giving.

They need growth to stay open, reach communities, and fulfill their mission.

Numbers are not the enemy.

They are powerful — and powerful things require careful stewardship.

In Part Three, I want to explore that tension more honestly:
Why growth matters. Why giving matters. Why structure and strategy are necessary.
And how we can pursue all of that without losing the heart of worship.



Because the goal isn’t to reject growth.
It’s to keep growth in its proper place.

Come back for Part Three.

—
John Cook