What is the church? What does it look like? Feel like? Sound like? I grew up in church. My mother was a Christian before I was born—the serious kind, not a pew-warmer, not a seasonal Christian, but Christs blood ran deep in our family roots. I was not a first-generation believer but a fourth-generation Evangelical. We moved around a bit, so never once in my life did I assume I could define or declare what “church” actually looked like.
My grandmother’s First Baptist Church was a traditional white building with a steeple and an organ inside. But we also worshiped in high school auditoriums, elementary school cafeterias, and even the basement of a dentist’s office. There were Easter morning sunrise services outside in a misty field, summer evenings under a large white tent and then there was an old barn transformed by some wood paneling and commercial carpeting. There was no set place to meet God—that was plain to me.
The church, as I understand it, has nothing to do with a building or even a set body of people together. That is not the mark of the community of Christ. The church is the people—each individual Christian surrounded by others who call upon the name of Christ. It’s not where we worship that unites us, but who we worship. Jesus said, “My Father’s house is a house of prayer.”
“My church” today looks like a white church building with a steeple, where I go to sing and hear the pastor preach God’s word, but when I am in need, I reach out—I called out—to a handful of people some who don’t even know each other. There is the woman I met last year at work, and we only spent one year together, yet formed a connection. “Please pray for me I begged the other day” , She sent me an entire chapter of Psalm 91, written out, and said, “oh my gosh I am praying right now, I will pray psalm 91 over you.”
There is the woman I’ve known for thirty years. We met at a Bible study and used to attend the same church. We raised our children together, we prayed together, retreated together and now we meet once a month for lunch. “Yes Praying” she tells me.
There is a dear friend with whom I have never regularly attended church, yet we’ve been sisters in Christ for twenty-five years and wrestling through every bible verse and question and doubt that we have – trust, we share every strength and weakness. She always remembers my birthday—I always forget hers. “Praying now, stand in God’s strength, you are not trapped you are free.” she replies.
There is the woman at work who gave me a long, tight hug, and our tears fell simultaneously. We share our love of movies and prayer on the way to work.
There is my mother, who lives three hours away: “Yes, I’m praying now, honey. I pray you can see the greatness Adonai has put into you and what you have been created for.” My husband: “you’re almost through this.”
Do you see? Do you hear what I’m saying? These are the ones I called upon for help, support guidance to stand before me and lower me down to Jesus. NONE of us attend the same church, or worship in the same building like a group, yet we all attend to the same Savior. We all trust in the same God to supply our needs. We share a love for one another that extends far beyond time, place, position, status, or appearance or building. We are in different places and stages in life and faith, yet there is a connection, a tie that somehow binds us together in a way I cannot fully explain outside of love and Christ.
The same Savior and Spirit that dwell in me dwell in them. When one is hurting, the others step up, because when one hurts, we all feel it. That is the body—that is the church.
The other day, when I was drowning and reached out, God lifted me. He did so through the hands, prayers, and love of the church that has formed around me. God has designed it that way. We all face crises, even the strongest among us. When we humble ourselves and reach out to those we know, trust, and love, they pray. Something breaks, something rebuilds, something forms—and God moves. The tram gains ground. My father’s house is a house of prayer!
So what does the church look like, sound like, feel like? It feels like this—like what I just described—not Sunday morning, not a pew, not a choir, not even a pastor preaching. Those things are part of worship and the Christian life, certainly, but the church—the called-out ones, the ekklesia—looks like faithful devotion to one another. Calling on one another, It’s linking hands and hearts in prayer for each other in times of need and desperation. It’s evidence of love and presence. It’s the Spirit of God working through people, for people.
It’s a rally around, a lifting up. It’s a “Yes, I’m on it!” Working together to represent the kingdom of Christ, a people loving one another relying on each other and doing it with no agenda or fear or hesitation. This is the church in operation, a house of Prayer.
My Faith Place 