Finding Beauty in the Local Church in Our Age of Social Media
’Twas the night before Easter, and thirty-six yards awaited “egging” by our family. We hosted an “Egg My Yard” fundraiser for our adoption, and my husband and I were floored by the responses. As he created driving routes, we were unsure how we were going to put 1,395 plastic eggs stuffed with candy in all these yards in a reasonable time. We mentioned this tall task to a few church members in passing, and some mentioned they may be able to help. Before we knew it, our driveway, front yard, and cul-de-sac filled with cars full of church family there to help us. A seemingly impossible task became easier and even more fun because our church family heard of our need and then met it, choosing to use their Saturday evening to help us.
By God’s grace, I have a million more stories like this one. The local church has shown up for my family through suffering, celebrations, and simply ordinary days. These things that I’ve come to love about the local church aren’t always flashy or Instagram-worthy. In our social media age, though, I fear many people are losing their love for the local church.
Social media provides a way to connect with others, laugh at funny memes, and keep up with our favorite sports teams, but it also tempts us toward comparison and fuels our consumeristic, entertainment-driven society. If not careful, we’ll allow this mindset to impact our affection for the local church. Our own church may no longer seem exciting compared to others we see online. We’ll focus on the imperfections within our local church, while only seeing the highlight reel of another church via social media. We must beware of these dangers, and the more I’m involved with the local church, the more I’m certain that the beauty of it isn’t in the “Instagram-worthy” moments.
The beauty of the local church shines forth in suffering. It’s my fridge filled with meals after the death of a family member or dinner brought by a friend after my miscarriage. It’s the strength that comes from our weekly corporate gathering. Singing congregationally stirs my heart to more joy, peace, and trust in Christ rather than when I just sing it alone—it’s as if the fellow voices are strong arms, lifting me up to endure in trial. The beauty in suffering alongside believers is that it reminds me I’m not alone. I see my church family still faithfully living unto Jesus, stronger because of the trials they face, and I trust that I, too, can persevere.
We can also see the beauty of the local church in joyful circumstances, like the time our church family celebrated us with baby showers when we brought our daughter home from India and when they unpacked boxes in our new kitchen. But even in seasons of sorrow, we can find beauty in engaging in the local church. Sitting under the expositional teaching of God’s Word with fellow believers, hearing my kids sing loudly to their Savior, and laughing with friends in those after-church parking lot conversations are small glimpses of the abundant life Christ promises us (John 10:10). These are the moments that help me turn my eyes to Christ and strengthen me to count my trials as joy (James 1:2).
There’s beauty in the midst of ordinary parts of a local church too. One thing I’ve found most beautiful recently is our midweek service. Life is busy, and I see the temptation to use Wednesday evenings as a night to stay at home and enjoy a break from sports practices. However, in the midst of our ordinarily busy weeks, our midweek service gives me the opportunity to hear praises from fellow believers of how God has worked that week. We share prayer requests and burdens, sit under expositional teaching, and of course, share moments of sweet fellowship before and after the service. There have been several Wednesday evenings when I arrived at church struggling, yet left refreshed.
An aspect that many consider ordinary—yet one I’ve grown to see as more and more beautiful with each passing year—is the church’s multigenerational fellowship. In my teen years, I wished everything in my church could be more “modern.” Now, I see the gift of older saints, and I’m so grateful for them. There’s beauty in this ordinary, multigenerational family as we come alongside one another in daily life. Older saints bless our home with their wisdom and fresh garden veggies, and it’s a joy to walk alongside younger saints as they navigate their college days.
It’s a privilege to mourn with, celebrate, and live ordinary days with my church family. I don’t wish suffering on anyone, but when it does occur, it’s an honor to come alongside my brothers and sisters in Christ. Of course, it’s also a joy to celebrate with them as well as walk with them in their ordinary days. There are a million ways to serve our brothers and sisters in Christ: we can provide meals, send a card, simply text, “How can I pray for you?” (and actually pray for them!), practice hospitality, and more. We’ll find the true beauty of the local church is found when it’s a two-way street, and we participate in both the serving and the being served.
The average local church may not be considered beautiful in the world’s eyes. It’s not flashy lights, special programming, or the “coolest” new sermon series. The true beauty may actually look pretty ordinary, and sometimes, even messy and difficult. It’s is in living out Romans 12:15: “Rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep.” It’s in following the model of the early church, being devoted to the teaching of the Word, fellowship, breaking of bread, prayer, and Christian unity in awe of God (Acts 2:42–47).
Let’s enjoy social media in moderation, but let’s not allow it and a consumerist mindset to taint our love for the local church. When our love for the local church is based on how it entertains us or what we can get out of it, that’s a red flag that our affections are disordered. To experience these beauties of the local church, though, requires things like showing up five minutes early and staying five minutes late to engage in conversation. Though it may be scary, we must be authentic with others, sharing our struggles and burdens. It also means showing up for others, whether through prayer or practical acts of service when they share their own burdens. Once you’ve tasted this beauty of sharing joys, sorrows, and ordinary days with your local church family, you’ll know there’s nothing like it this world can offer. The local church is a beautiful gift, and I’m grateful the Lord allows me to play a small part in my church family for his glory.
Cassie Pattillo is a pastor’s wife and mom to two energetic boys and one precious daughter. She’s passionate about biblical literacy and writing and teaching about Scripture. She also loves slow mornings with a cup of coffee, a good book on the beach, and Gamecock football. She is passionate about giving Gospel-centered encouragement through writing, which you can find on her blog, diariesofadaughter.com. She would love to connect with you on Instagram or Facebook.