The Church: A Family of Redemption
I was five years old the night my parents sat me and my older sister down on our living room couch. I could tell from my mother’s tears that this was a serious moment, but I still process the weight of the word that followed to this very day—divorce.
We figured out how to split time between parents and homes, and then we added some step-parents to the mix. Christmas became more difficult, though there were twice as many gifts. The marriages of my uncles and aunts seemed to follow similar trends, trends modeled by those who came before them. At a young age, all I knew was that marriage doesn’t last, and men don’t stay.
Years later, when I was ten, a friend of my sister invited her to a local youth group. The next thing I knew, to my frustration, our whole family was attending a church service on Sundays and Wednesdays.
At that point in my life, church meant waking up too early and getting dressed when I should be outside playing basketball. I mean, how could I become the next Michael Jordan if I wasn’t practicing? I had the tongue-hanging-out part figured out; I was just a few inches (or feet) short of the dunking part.
Then something funny happened. I began to notice something very peculiar about the people at this place, and it wasn’t just the weird music videos and voice overs that played during the worship time.
The people stayed.
You see, from the time my folks dropped the “D word” on my sister and me, I was slowly fed the lie that people don’t stay, and this was my fault. If I could just perform at a certain level; if I could just exceed expectations; if I could just keep it together and keep the stress down, then they might just stay.
Yet, in spite of our different family dynamics and pubescent awkwardness set in motion, the men and families of this local church took us in as their own. Congregants and pastors came to our house to check on us; they rallied around us when my sister was in a car wreck and later when my stepfather had severe medical issues. The youth pastor looked out for me and patiently shared the gospel with me; and on-and-on I could go. But what I want to highlight here is the fact that the church consistently showed up for us and one another by humbling themselves to serve one another.
I ultimately gave my life to Christ through his Spirit working so diligently in my young heart, and a week later was baptized on the same night as my stepfather. Though I had experienced something of adoption through my relationship with my stepfather, I now had experienced something more—adoption into the family of God. The Father had grafted me into his family as the local church family fully embraced and welcomed us.
The local church paints a picture of a greater reality: God takes broken people and makes them whole through the family of God. He has sent his son Jesus Christ to redeem a people—his people—to himself that they might enjoy him forever. This is an eternal and unfading family, but it’s also a family for the not-yet season that we live in.
Not only did the dynamic within my household change but my whole life was shaped through the local church. I have since left my opportunity-filled engineering role to lay my life down for the local church. She’s broken, but she is beautiful; she is costly, but she is worth it.
The story of redemption through the local church to my family required normal, everyday Christians to show simple and ordinary hospitality to my family and me. The men and women who reached out to my parents worked normal jobs at the local stores and even farmed the North Alabama land we lived on. They weren’t seminary trained or leaders of major evangelistic movements. They had nine-to-fives, worked on loose shingles, wanted new countertops, and struggled to parent their kids. The difference they made was that they cared for all of those God sovereignly put before them.
There are hurting people in your local church today. This week, a young teenager will walk through your doors and his life might just be falling apart. He and his family might be searching for a lifeline in the words of your pastor. There’s no doubt that God can and will use your pastor to speak to them, but that will likely be forgotten by Tuesday. Simply your presence will make an eternal impact on this struggling family.
Paul says in Ephesians that the body of Christ grows in love only when each part is working properly (Eph. 4:15–16). The local church is an organism of redemption. When each organ and part shows up with a warm smile, a caring touch, and a follow-up word or visit to say, “I’m thinking about you,” people get a glimpse of a redeemed heavenly family.
Here are a few ways you can show up and give someone else the gift you’ve received in the local church.
Be present. At Sunday morning gatherings, connection events, and small groups, be present with those who are new or you don’t yet know. Fight the urge to catch up with friends you see throughout the week and look for that person who looks lost or hurt.
Without a doubt , you might experience that awkward moment of, “Hey! Are you new here?” only to be met with, “Um, no, I’ve been here five years.” I’ve been there, done that, and I’m on staff at our church. I promise you will both survive, and they are likely not as insulted as you are embarrassed. However, being consistently present in an age of consistent flakiness can be revolutionary to those around you.
Be hospitable. Tim Chester writes in his book A Meal with Jesus:
Jesus didn’t run projects, establish ministries, create programs, or put on events. He ate meals. If you routinely share meals and you have a passion for Jesus, then you’ll be doing mission. It’s not that meals save people. People are saved through the gospel message. But meals will create natural opportunities to share that message in a context that resonates powerfully with what you’re saying. Hospitality has always been integral to the story of God’s people. (Chester, 89)
Being hospitable isn’t about having the perfect spread and table setting. Though Joanna Gaines may be proud of your tablescape, your guests will feel just as proud to be welcomed in. A messy kids’ room, paper plates, and Chick-fil-A ordered in are all signs of life in a home, whereas a perfectly tidy home with grandma’s china on display and a five-course meal actually tends to overwhelm. (Save that for feasting with friends who’ve been in the mess of life with you for a long time.)
You also don’t have to have people inside your home to be hospitable, either. Find that new person, or maybe just that family you aren’t familiar with, and invite them to share lunch with you following a Sunday gathering. Again, it’s less about the perfect environment and more about simply being present.
Finally, hospitality is not simply a gift reserved for women in the church. In fact, though it’s listed on a spiritual gifts test, hospitality is not a spiritual gift at all but a requirement for an elder. Hospitality is less about gifting and more about being a welcoming person. So men—lean in for a second—you can fire up the grill or smoker and overcook some hamburgers and hotdogs for your guests. All of us who have been welcomed into the house of God have the calling and capacity to welcome others into our homes.
Be intentional. That’s right, there’s that word again. It’s likely your pastor’s favorite word, your small group leader's favorite prayer, and a common theme for popular evangelicals over the past decade. But there’s a reason why it sticks—small movements in an intentional direction will yield much larger results than large movements in a scattered direction. Also, it helps us to see that we don’t have to completely reorganize our schedule and pull our kids out of rec league sports to live a hospitable life. Look for ways to intersect your life with others in a meaningful way. Trust that God has sovereignly placed them in your life, and invite them into the rhythms of your life. That small movement just might be a great obedience to God working to show his redemption to a fractured family.
It really can be that simple. And yet these simple steps can also have a profound impact. The local church was a vessel of redemption for my family and my soul. The local church will continue to have that impact on others as each member of the body seeks to be consistently present, hospitable, and intentional in loving the communities God has placed them in. Thank you, Father in Heaven, for the local church.