When we say “the church is family,” most of us think in terms of a weak metaphor, like the sentimental but tepid attachments we have with our workplace or our alma mater. But for Jesus, saying “the church is family” was a strong reality. He thought of his body, the church, as his actual family and said that his commitment to this family was of the highest order imaginable—even worth dying for.
Jesus consistently pointed to a day when marriage and biological relationships would be no more, and all that would remain would be the church. We’re not there yet, but that reality should shape how we interact with each other now.
I once heard a story about a fairly new Christian whose husband passed out one Sunday morning at church. He ended up having to be hospitalized for several weeks. She talks about how during those terrifying days, new friends in the church rallied around her, volunteering to take care of her kids, even using vacation days to do so. One friend, she said, referred to her kids as “our” kids—not in some creepy kind of way, but simply making the point that these were burdens this woman would no longer have to carry alone.
I hear versions of that story over and over in my church. I can’t tell you how many times I reach out to somebody here who is going through something and they say, “Pastor, it’s been a hard time, but the church has been awesome.” And by that, they don’t mean me or the staff. They mean the members. They’ll say something like, “My small group has been here around the clock and made sure all of our needs are met.” Sometimes, y’all, it brings tears to my eyes.
The church is family, and that means you should invest in it as a family. Don’t treat the weekend gathering as some kind of religious pep talk with a motivational speaker. If that’s how you treat church, then you’re only experiencing a fraction of the blessing Jesus intended the church to be.
You say, “What are you telling me to actually do?” Get involved. Show up early. Stay after service and catch up with people. Be known by a small group, a serving team, a Bible study. And start investing in others. Whether you’re married or not, invest in the next generation of your church as spiritual aunts and uncles.
Rebecca McLaughlin wrote a piece called “Why I Don’t Sit With My Husband in Church.” On the one hand, she said that some of the response she got to it was as if she had suggested stomping on puppies in Sunday School: “How dare you undermine the family in church?”
On the other hand, she got a glut of messages from single Christians who explained how much pain they feel in church when they sit alone. Sure, there are times when people truly want to be alone at church, but in general, she says, “We come to be together, not to have our private moment with the Lord.”
To this end, she offers three helpful rules:
- An alone person in our gatherings is an emergency.
- Friends can wait.
- Introduce a newcomer to someone else.
Listen, I’m just charismatic enough to believe that if you notice a new person at church by themselves, the Holy Spirit wants you to notice them and go talk with them. So don’t be disobedient. Be looking around for people at the beginning and end of service. Your friends can wait. Meet them at Chipotle later. At church, find those people who look alone and introduce yourself to them, and then introduce them to someone else. As McLaughlin writes, “It should never be said that someone came to church and left without anyone knowing their name.”
To which you might say, “Yeah, I’ve been at a church for three months and no one has ever talked to me.” You’re right: They really should do better. But there’s also this: It’s entirely possible that everyone around you is a guest too. So go ahead and start the conversation.
McLaughlin concludes her article by saying, “If the church is family, we’re not eroding our family when spouses (and biological families) sometimes sit apart. We’re building it.” What if we reserved the seven minutes before and after service to intentionally see others? Some of you might have to leave your house 30 minutes earlier to make that happen. I get it—this isn’t easy. But wouldn’t that one sacrifice be a great way of saying to those around you, “Hey! You’re not invisible to Jesus here. He sees you! We see you!” Wouldn’t it be great to be part of a church like that?
When we treat the church like family, it means we commit to the church like family. When you have a family member that is annoying, you don’t just kick them out. You may want to, but you know, for family, the rules are different.
Of course, in families as in churches, there are times when we have to part ways. I’m not saying we tolerate sinful or abusive behavior. But most of us need to learn to love those who rub us the wrong way. People in your church are going to love the music that you hate. They are going to express political perspectives that drive you crazy. Sometimes, when you sit next to them in church, they will sing off-key. News flash: You drive other people crazy sometimes too.
If we’re family, you can’t just say, “Well, you are not my favorite relationship, so I’m out.” In families, we confront one another, lovingly, when someone is doing or believing something harmful. In families, we sacrifice for one another. In families, we bear with one another in love.
And that’s the church. Not a group of consumers. Not a bunch of people who happen to believe the same thing. A family.
