Please don't come back to church....
…the way you left it.
Sunday I went back to church. I was nervous. I was okay with being nervous. I talked with the kids on our drive downtown that we could have all the feelings of being back with people we haven’t seen in a year and to choose to be sensitive to the feelings of others. It helped to talk it out. For me, at least.
Church was different. We came in masks. We had to register on the church website prior. We had to answer questions at the tent to enter the outdoor space. We could sit as a family, yet had to sit socially distant from others. This meets our city’s requirements.
Church was new. We’re gathering for the unforeseeable future at an outdoor garden a few blocks from our church building. Street parking is easy to find these days. The venue can hold about 150 people at one gathering. We did 2 gatherings this Sunday because almost 300 masked people registered and wanted to come back to church.
Church was stronger. It was a reunion of sorts. A coming home. It was a vulnerable party. Yes, that’s it. Because in my attempt to meet someone new, he was someone old. In my going for an elbow tag, I got a hug. Masks covered mouths, but they don’t cover smiles. We had four people help set up who joined Epic during the pandemic online. I got to hold babies born in 2020. (For the one who wonders...I am fully vaccinated and Sunday was my freedom day, in all the ways!) We weren’t talking about the sunshine that was spotlighted on this garden this Sunday. We weren’t talking about the news or where we were going for brunch or lunch. We were talking about Jesus. Somehow in the 59 weeks of being apart, our prayers are being answered. The Church has been meeting with God scattered. Their faith is more their own now. And the ones coming back to church will be the rebuilders.
But this is not how we left it. We thought we would be gone for just a few weeks, but after a full year, here’s
10 things I’m discovering are true about the remnant,
the part of the Church who knows it’s not about us ultimately though it includes us.
We’re not scared of silence anymore. We’ve learned to let it live with us. Ben and I were in a conversation up on Mount Davidson with Francis Chan (a fellow pastor here in SF for now!) and as Christians stood scattered around the cross in our city, everyone has learned to live with silence. It’s lost some of its fear.
We’ve lived scattered. Some of us have grown comfortable on Sundays at home and have a new routine that includes brunch and errands that have filled in the church spot. Some of us have embraced a new way of looking at our neighbors and we’ve seen them throughout the day since we’re home more. Scattering is good, but only when attached to a weekly gathering.
We’ve left selfishness at home. We don’t take it back to church. We’re not self-centered at church. It’s not what we get from it. If we go to get, we’ll leave and quit. (That’s been a sad reality and one I’m not ready to write about yet.) Because we’ll crave something else in another month or so, and the search will begin again with what church can meet our new needs now. We come to love and serve the body of Christ and He, being the head, tends to give us something in return.
We tell the staff we want to help rebuild. We want to link arms with them. We want to come alongside and serve the people of our city together. That’s how we all want to return. We need to know who’s back and who’s here to stay. Stick around after service or come early and have this intentional conversation.
We’ve learned what we can do without, so we’re being generous as we return. Remember the weeks when all we needed was toilet paper? People are in need in our community. Give through the church so that a collective group of people can make a bigger impact where we live.
We don't have to do it all, say yes to everything or experience Fear Of Missing Out. As we return, let’s do one thing well. What have we missed from being together? Children? Welcome/Host team? Prayer? Music? Do that one thing.
Return with whatever is in our hands. The one place on earth that was crafted by Jesus to be a safe place and a welcoming place is the Church. Bring our grief, financial surplus, pain, newborn, empty hands. Someone at church will (1) identify with us as well (2) be drawn with love to us because God is putting us on their hearts.
We go to church to be reminded we’re not alone. Ease back into this family of faith. But like any healthy family, you play a part and are seen and need to let others know they are seen too. There is no expectation to perform. Just be present.
We go to church to learn in a local context because we’ve gone through a pandemic alone together. It’s been incredible how God has used this tragic year to bring people around the world to tune into our church online. We’ve had people from other states and countries join small groups and be a part of our church community. But there is something to be said about what we experience in our own communities that isn’t translatable online, but is very much felt in person.
We go to worship God, adore Him, seek Him collectively. We open the Bible together. Christ is the head of the church, not justice, not politics, not the preacher, not issues. Jesus.
I know leaving a comment is not us these days, but perhaps you’re discovering something as a part of the remnant you want to share with us. We gladly welcome your learnings here.
Consider listening to King of Kings by Hillsong Worship and Truth be Told by Matthew West. Listen out for the lyrics about the Church!
A personal update: If we’re friends on Facebook and we read each other’s postings on Instagram, I’m glad you’re here today. I’m rediscovering how much I love personal emails, personal walks, and personal talks. It’s why I’m shifting more of my personal life to my community of subscribers and to those who call San Francisco home. I’d love to stay connected with you.
photos courtesy of @epicsf