We, The Church (as I see it)

Church isn’t a building or a set time in the week. It’s you and me - ordinary, everyday folks connecting with each other to share our experiences, and grow together in our faith.

When we decided to have another "Invite a Friend to Church Sunday," I wanted to read the story from John’s gospel where a new convert named Philip runs to tell his friend Nathaniel, “We found the Messiah!”

But when Nathaniel is doubtful, Philip doesn’t argue with him; he simply says, “Come and see.”
 
It’s a perfect story for our theme, but I already preached that passage earlier this year. So, I asked myself, if I were visiting a new church what would I want to hear?

​Better yet, what would I want to see.

When most people think of church, they picture a big building, a choir, and a pastor preaching from a pulpit to people sitting on hard pews. But we do things a little differently here. As many of you already know, Anamesa resides in that space between time and distance. Some watch live in person or in their homes while others tune in on a lunch break later in the week.
 
Although we’ve been accused of breaking away from the church structure, our goal was simply to break the mold around it. Church isn’t a building or a set time in the week. It’s you and me - ordinary, everyday folks connecting with each other to share our experiences, and grow together in our faith.
 
According to the reading I have chosen for today, that’s what church used to be like.

They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. Awe came upon everyone because many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. All who believed were together and had all things in common;  they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need.  Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.                                                                                           - Acts 2:42-47

Luke paints a wonderful picture of a place where people from all walks of life could find belonging without the fear of judgement or rejection.

They met in houses like this one. They ate their meals together and shared their struggles and triumphs. They lived their lives with joy and compassion; supporting each other - not just emotionally but financially as well so that no one was without.
 
Luke said, everyone who saw what they were doing were in awe. People wanted to be a part of this new movement that seemed to challenge social norms and conventional wisdom.
 
I fear that somewhere in this space between then and now, the church has lost most of that early wonderment and joy. Walk into most houses of worship and you’ll find people just going through the motions: praying, singing, listening to a message. Afterwards, they move on with their day with little change in their heart or behavior.
 
But imagine what Anamesa could look like if everyone gathered and lived in such a way that left people in awe. Where the simple act of sharing our heart got people’s attention. It might sound altruistic, but I actually think it’s possible.
 
I experienced something similar many years ago when I moved into a small, rundown apartment complex in Hollywood. I wasn’t sure about the place at first, but there was something there that was special and sacred.
 
In the middle of the courtyard there was this old, metal patio table. Like most of the residents, it had been kicked to the curb, left to rot. But some of our neighbors cleaned it up and painted a wild solar system of funky stars and planets on it. Around the rim they painted different people holding hands.
 
Every night a bunch of us would gather around that table for dinner sharing whatever we had— mismatched plates, random salads, pasta, and a lot of wine and laughter. Yet, what made that space sacred wasn’t so much the meals, but the way we trusted each other enough to be honest and vulnerable. Like that first church, we leaned on each other for support - emotional, physical, and even financial.
 
Whether it was a hard lesson learned from life or a lighter for your cigarette, we all had something to give to the community pot. And even if you had nothing you still had a safe sanctuary where you could be loved on and cared for. We were far from sainthood, but I’ll tell you what, God was there, as close to us as we were to each other.
 
Imagine if every church looked like this. A place where anyone can come to feel welcomed and loved, no matter what. 

For many of us, this was our church. That table was our altar - covered in candle wax, discarded ashes, and tears. Our pews were mismatched chairs and a raggedy old sofa covered in cats. But it was the congregation – that wild bunch of broken and beloved  – who showed up every night and made each meal a eucharistic feast.

 
The early church had a word for such a community: koinonia. It’s a Greek word that is most commonly translated as “fellowship” but actually means "participation in a shared life." The way they participated and shared life was around an ordinary, everyday table.
 
At that table they practiced the Way of Jesus - which they learned firsthand by the Apostles. It turns out their hunger wasn’t just physical. They also had a deep spiritual hunger that they satiated by praying together, crying together, and caring for one another’s needs.

They fed their faith and found God in the ordinary, daily routines of communal life.
 
Around those tables, they learned how to live out the gospel in real time – touching and transforming others along the way. It’s no wonder people were blown away by what they saw and experienced. As the wonderful Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh described so beautifully, they “touched life so deeply that the Kingdom of God became a reality."
 
Isn’t that our goal and purpose – to make God’s kingdom come alive, even in the most basic or mundane ways? To quote Samuel Coleridge, “Christianity is not a theory or speculation, but a life; not a philosophy of life, but a life and a living process.”  That process begins by following Jesus who said, “I am the truth, the light and the way” (John 14:6).
 
If we want to know God and be enlightened enough to see what God’s Kingdom looks like in real time, Jesus says, “Follow me.” See what I do for others and do it. Love, forgive, heal, clothe, support. Stand up for what’s right with a humble heart. Be tender and merciful to all people, just as God has shown tenderness and mercy to you.
 
That’s what those first Christians did. They didn’t merely go to church—they were the church. They risked everything to live out Christ’s truth, embodying God’s love in real and tangible ways.
 
Maybe it's time we took a page from their book. Instead of just attending “service,” what if we started worshiping like they did – filling the space between us and our neighbors with giant buffet tables overflowing with God’s love?

Love is the heartbeat of a Christ community. It’s how the world should see our faith in action.
 
We don’t need grand cathedrals to show it; we just need to make love become incarnate wherever we go. Jesus said love is the way people will know we belong to him. But as Brian Tracy points out, "Love only grows by sharing."
 
The early church grew because people saw something different in them—something real. They were drawn to the love, the joy, and the sense of belonging to a community where everyone was equal and welcome. I believe we can stand out like this—not so much in the way we gather,
but in all the many different ways we love God, love others, and serve both.
 
We hear that vision every week, but are we really showing it, making that public? Are we honoring our love for God by loving our neighbor, and giving liberally to those in need? To follow Jesus is to break the molds that separate us from one another. This first church gave us the blueprint on how to do that.
 
Actor Rainn Wilson describes this koinonia community as one of the greatest revolutions the world has ever seen. He said, “For the first time in human history, people from all races, nations, classes, and genders—including sailors, rabbis, Roman soldiers, widows, carpenters, prostitutes—gathered together to worship God and remember the legacy of Jesus.”
 
Theirs wasn't merely a religious movement; it was a revolutionary community united by the living presence of Christ - the very incarnation of God’s love.
 
They thrived by opening their hearts and hands to those the world had kicked to the curb and left to rot. I believe we can do the same today if we shift our focus from simply attending church to actively participating in the mission of Christ - loving others, promoting peace, serving those on the margins, and getting involved in our communities.
 
Remember, it's not about perfect theology or flawless performance. It's about loving like Jesus loved. It's about being a beacon of hope in a world filled with darkness.
 
So, let’s get started and be the church the world needs. Let’s stand in Anamesa, in this space between heaven and earth, as bridges to God’s love and glory.
 
Let’s follow the way of Jesus and become holy and sacred sanctuary for anyone seeking true peace, spiritual freedom, and real healing.
 
Let us take the steps to be who God calls us to be.

And together, I believe, we will leave the world in awe.
 

 
 
Work Cited
Adapted from a sermon A Gathered People: What Are You Doing Here. May 21, 2017.
Byassee, Jason. "Living in the Word: Scared Sheep?" Sojourners, May 2017: 44.
Cole, Neal. Organic Church: Growing Faith Where Life Happens. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2005.
Moore, Charles. Called To Community. Walden: Plough Publishing House, 2016.
Snyder, Howard. Called To Community. Edited by Charles E. Moore. Walden: Plough Publishing House, 2016.
Rainn Wilson interview from Faith For Normal People, April 19, 2023.