Thought and Prayer of the Day
by Arleane Ralph
April 3, 2025
The Transforming Questions group met for the penultimate time this week, and it’s been a remarkable 10 weeks, exploring some of the fundamental questions of a life of faith. It’s been a real privilege and joy to journey with the same group each Tuesday, sharing a meal and sharing our thoughts and experiences.
This week’s question was: “What is the church for?” You’ll be relieved to now we came up with an answer.
But as with many of the weekly sessions, we found we had to reframe the question … to transform it.
You probably have all encountered non-churchgoers who will tell you that they are “spiritual, but not religious.” Or that they consider themselves to be “a person of deep faith although they don’t go to church.” I try not to judge, but I always want to respond with something like: “Yes, and I consider myself an Olympic sprinter, but I don’t run. It’s not for me. It’s hard to find time to fit in all the running. But apart from that, I am a devote sprinter.”
Of course, everyone has their seasons of busy-ness or disinterest or even distrust in church. There are ebbs and flows in our involvement, but can we do without organized Church and really be effective, intentional Christians?
The answer to “What is the church for?” begins somewhat counterintuitively with defining what it’s not. It’s not just a pretty brick-and-mortar building. It’s not just a weekly worship service. And it’s not just about us or even strictly for us.
Anglican Archbishop William Temple famously stated that the Church is “the only cooperative society in the world that exists for the benefit of its non-members.”
Being a churchgoer is a habit and a commitment. As the TQ presenter said at our Tuesday session, “for the watching world,” when we participate in Church, “we ourselves offer up proof that God is alive. We form the visible shape of what God is like.”
The church is not perfect. And it’s not necessarily easy. Brené Brown, an American writer-researcher and podcaster, put it like this once:
“I always say I go to church for three reasons: To sing with strangers; to pass the peace with people I normally would not like or I’d want to punch in the face; and to go to the rail and break bread with people that I need to understand better. Those are the three reasons. I’m sure there should be better theological reasons I go to church. But I never thought about, that’s where I find God, in love.”
Even the esteemed C.S. Lewis acknowledged one of the confounding paradoxes of being part of a community of faith, with the much-quoted: “It’s easy to be a Christian until you meet other Christians.”
Brown’s and Lewis’ statements point to the difficulty of living out one’s faith in a community, as opposed to having only a personal and private understanding of it. Church is the source of comfort and strength and unity for all of us while at the same time it forces us to deal with the imperfection and challenges of interaction with its diverse members.
Or, in simpler terms and in the folksy wisdom of the American Episcopal Bishop Michael Curry: “And even when we’re headaches to each other, we’re still better off together than we are apart.” It’s that interaction of all the parts that makes Church work.
Many of the Biblical perspectives of the universal Church recognize the diversity and complexity and necessity of all the parts. I think this is why the metaphor of a family or household of God resonates with most of us.
Church is like a family or household because “it has wildly different people within it who don’t always like each other, who have bad days and bad ways, and yet somehow belong to one another anyway.” And furthermore, “we don’t choose the members. … Some days the only thing that we share in common is that we are all chosen by God.”
Rachel Held Evans referred to Church as: “a bunch of outcasts and oddballs gathered at a table, not because they are rich or worthy or good, but because they are hungry, because they said yes. And there’s always room for more.”
Saint John of the Cross said, “the virtuous soul that is alone … is like the burning coal that is alone. It will grow colder rather than hotter. … Consider how much more can be accomplished by two together than by one alone.”
In the end, the question of “What is the church for?” became “What is our role in the church?” (And here I have to apologize for the Transforming Question group for my woeful JFK imitation, “Ask not what your church can do for you, but what you can do for church.”)
When two or three or a hundred of us gather together in his name, we are attempting to collectively respond to the world – to the good, the bad and the incomprehensibly ugly—in the same way Jesus would have done. That’s a lot to ask of us, and that’s why it’s hard to be a good practitioner of a Jesus-shaped life. (Feel free to add your own JFK voice here: “And we do these things not because they are easy, but because they are hard.”)
I will freely admit that on those occasions when I have to get myself to church for a weeknight meeting or I am feeling tired and lazy on a Sunday morning, I wish Jesus had said, “stay at home on your couch in your fleecy pants and cozy sweater with steeped tea and a good book” … but he didn’t say anything like that. (Though I know he understands and forgives me when I occasionally feel the need to do that anyway.) He also didn’t say, “whatever you do to your own self-interest, reward or glory, you do for me.” Definitely not.
What he did say was, Come together and follow me, and take care of the least of my siblings.
And I honestly can’t think of a better way to do that besides church. From the acts of the apostles to the early Christian communities to churches around the world today, churchgoers come together to visibly and intentionally carry out these commands.
This doesn’t mean it isn’t frustrating sometimes when it’s not all about what we want, or when it’s inconvenient or frustrating or fatiguing. Worshipping is definitely joyous and pleasing and restorative, but the work of “being church” or “doing church” can be demanding.
There’s another Brené Brown quote on her experience of church that sticks with me. In a Ted talk she shared this revelation: “Church wasn’t an epidural, it was a midwife. It just stood next to me and said ‘Push. It’s okay. It’s supposed to hurt a bit.’”
Church asks a lot of us. If it simply numbs and insulates us from the world, we’re probably not doing it right or fully. Church – that great Jesus movement — is meant to entice us to our growth edges. To encourage us to push the envelope, to push out of our comfort zones, to push God’s glory—mediated through worship and fellowship and community service – beyond the walls and out into the world.
And I don’t think we should be surprised if it’s a little uncomfortable and challenging and requires us to navigate sticky relationships and situations. We probably shouldn’t expect anything else from an organization that follows a God who himself hungered, wept, flipped tables, challenged authority, sat down with strangers, wrestled with temptation, and himself cried out in despair.
But amazingly we also follow a God who is always willing to embrace and surround us when we are together, to gather up our efforts into one epic ongoing action of love, and to make that collective into something holy.
See you at the next meeting of God’s beloved oddballs and outcasts!
Prayer for Church
Most gracious God, we humbly beseech thee for thy holy catholic Church. Fill it with all truth; in all truth with all peace. Where it is corrupt, purify it; where it is in error, direct it; where any thing is amiss, reform it; where it is right, strengthen and confirm it; where it is in want, furnish it; where it is divided and rent asunder, make it whole again; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
(Book of Common Prayer (1962), p. 39
