May I Never Outgrow The Walls of My Church

Why bother with church? Why bother to drag your children out of bed? Why wake up early when you could make plans with just your friends at your own convenience? Why sit through sermons and songs you may not like when you could stream a service from another church, rock out to music in your car, and take notes to a podcast? Why bother?

After a busy day of playing with my children, messaging friends, and having a meal with family, I’m quite content to curl up in a chair with my Bible and notebook alone. As believers, this space is important, because we are called to a personal faith (of choosing for ourselves to believe in and love God) by our personal God. We need to be killing our own sins, finding ways we can serve our neighbours, and praying without ceasing.

While this personal aspect is vital, it is also vital that we’re doing these tasks of faithfulness as a community—with our fellow siblings in Christ. As the writer of Hebrews reminded his readers, “Let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near” (Hebrews 10:24–25 ESV).

It’s easy to draw inward on ourselves as we seek to be faithful, even to the point of neglecting fellowship. But we need one another to encourage, guide, correct, and at times even carry us. We need accountability. We need their prayers. We need them to turn our eyes up towards Christ, because we are so forgetful of the gospel we have been saved by. 

I’ve been tempted to neglect fellowship both at times when I’m doing well spiritually and when I’ve been neglectful. When we’re plodding along in ease, it’s tempting to think we don’t need our brothers and sisters in Christ—how could they really enhance this faithful path I’m beating down? And during times of negligence, we often want to hide our lack of faithfulness—what would they think if they knew how deep in sin I’ve become? But in all seasons, of both lack and plenty, we need our siblings in the faith to keep us focused on Christ—to remind us of the grace that we have in him when we fail, and the grace we still need to continue on when we’re doing well.

One of the lies that makes us believe we don’t need church is that the purpose of the church is evangelism. My atheist co-worker or my unbelieving father need church, but I don’t. Or perhaps we believe a different iteration of the same lie: I’m mature in my faith, unlike those baby believers, so I don’t need to go to church.

But church isn’t just another social event—it’s the place where God communicates his sustaining grace to his set apart people to carry them through yet another week in a world of thorns and thistles that struggles against them. We can’t find all of these special graces together anywhere else but God’s gathered people on Sunday morning.

As we hear the pastor preach, we receive God’s grace through hearing the Word expounded. With each baptism, we are reminded of God’s gracious cleansing of our hearts so that we may dwell with him. When we participate in the Lord’s Supper, God binds us to him and to each other, reminds of Christ’s blood spilt and body broken in our place, and turns our eyes to the Wedding Feast to come in eternity. As we pray together, we are reminded that we are not alone in our joys or sorrows. With each psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs, we instruct and encourage one another. When we commune with not just our friends but the whole diverse body of God’s people, we are taught love, patience, charity, and sacrifice. 

We will never outgrow the local church. We desperately need it each week to nourish and strengthen our weak hands and feet. I can’t be a godly wife, mom, or a sister-in-Christ without my local church. Church isn’t just for my unbelieving neighbor or the new, immature Christian. It’s for every believer in every season of life. This is why I fumble to church each week with toddlers who are sometimes grumpy and never sit still. This is the reason I press on each Sunday despite the high levels of anxiety that overcome me. It’s not easy or convenient but, goodness, do I ever need it—and you do too. 

For all the longings we have to finally see, feel, and hear Jesus, he offers a glimpse of himself through his church: In the fellow believers, the Lord’s Supper, baptism, and the proclamation of his Word, Jesus comes near to us.

Weary brother or sister, gather up the diaper bags and the formula, wrestle your little ones into their carseats, take a deep breath, and go behold Christ at church. Together, let’s press on in faithfulness—by the power of the grace we have in Christ and for God’s glory. Let the world see our love for one another and wonder where (or from Whom) such a love could come from.

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