What is church?

A friend of mine asked me recently how I define church.  Shortly after this conversation, my friend asked me for a written response to the same question.  This is a simple question . . . yet, at the same time, it’s not simple at all.  Writing allows me to sort through my thoughts and reflect as I formulate a response, and I’ve been thinking quite a bit about it.  Let me share with you the way I envision this thing we call church:

Most importantly, church is community.  It’s the collective people of God, coming together to form a unit that has been given the metaphors of a body, a family, a tree.  These images all represent small parts that each have a specific niche within a larger organism.  So the Church is a bunch of unique individuals who are trying to follow Jesus that meet in a common place in space and time and commit to follow Jesus together.  I know that my neighbor has something to offer me and I have something to offer my neighbor.  The point is not where you go to church, but what church you are a part of.  This way of looking at church membership assumes each person’s role in the community she or he is surrounded by, instead of just a service that is being attended.

The Church is intently focused on meeting the needs—physical, spiritual, emotional, whatever—within the church and in  the surrounding area.  In his account of the formation of the Church, Luke tells of a community that has no need because as soon as a need arises, it is met.  And not only is each need immediately met, it is met from within the community, and in a way that requires sacrifice.  People are selling land and using the money to feed, clothe, and shelter those who can’t provide for themselves.  My dad has a friend who served as a leader in the Salvation Army.  Despite his affiliation with this organization, he often lamented that such things ought not exist—if the Church would live like this, there would be no need.

The Church proclaims a message called the Good News that comforts the disturbed and disturbs the comfortable.  This message implies sacrifice, yet is captivating enough to constantly attract others to take hold of its transformative power and become part of the community.  This message isn’t always preached at people, but is often weaved into lifestyle choices that are visible both to the surrounding public and, in a more intimate way, to those with a relational connection.  It is because of this message of hope in Jesus that those within the Church become so focused on meeting the needs of others, and there is no distinction between spiritual and physical needs.  Borrowing imagery from Shane Hipps, the end goal of church is not to simply move as many people as possible from the “unsaved” column to the “saved” column in God’s ledger; the ongoing and ever-evolving goal is centered on emulating Jesus where the church is located. 

The Church is terribly broken.  Not only is this fact readily accepted within the Church, it is actually celebrated that everyone involved is a broken person, made whole in Jesus through a relationship with him that is manifested in our brothers and sisters that make up our church.  As a body, a family, a tree, we grow together, fail together, succeed together, laugh together, cry together, and live life together as long as we are here.

There are mistakes and regrets, but there are also healings and reconciliations, and we share in both lament and praise—this is what makes it beautiful.

Church, then, may take place in a sanctuary or a living room, we may hold services or coffee dates, we may recite liturgy or share what is on our heart—these things are the variables.  The given element is us, the people.

I can’t think of a better way to sum this up than by quoting a beautiful piece of Rob Bell’s parting message to the community that he is leaving.  This, essentially, is his advice for how to do church:

     take out a cup 

     and some bread 

     and put it in the middle of the table, 

     and say a prayer and examine yourselves 

     and then make sure everybody's rent is paid and there's food in their fridge and          
          clothes on their backs 
     and then invite everybody to say 'yes' to the resurrected Christ with whatever 'yes'   
          they can muster in the moment 

  and then you take that bread and you dip it in that cup in the ancient/future hope   
  and trust that there is a new creation bursting forth right here right now and then     
          together taste that new life and liberation and forgiveness and as you look those    
          people in the eyes gathered around that table from all walks of life 
  and you see the new humanity, sinners saved by grace, beggars who have found  
          bread showing the others beggars where they found it 
     and in that moment 

  space

place 

remind yourselves that 

this 

is 

what 

you 

believe.

That’s what church looks like.