Asking for a Friend - Is the Church a Mission Center or Social Club?

Matthew 28:16-20

Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him, but they doubted.

And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit

and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.

And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.

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We are party deprived. That’s the argument Ellen Cushing makes in a wonderful little article in The Atlantic earlier this year. On any given weekend or holiday, only 4% of Americans hosted or attended a social event. Polling shows most people like the idea of parties, but nobody wants to host them. Maybe that sounds familiar.

None of this should surprise us. More than any other time in modern history, adults spend less time with friends and more time alone—and we’re strangely okay with it. In fact, we often prefer it. Confined to our couches, transfixed by our phones, feeding on the stories our screens serve us. Simply put: we need more parties.

And yes, that’s part of my response to today’s question: is the church a mission center or a social club?

This is the second-to-last week of our Asking for a Friend series. And we have covered lots of big topics. But today the question is both what should the church with a capital C—the universal body of Christ across all time and space—be, but also the lowercase c church: Cross of Grace. What are we? A mission center or a social club?

Someone was looking at the list of questions a couple weeks ago and began laughing out loud. Oh no, I thought, we made a typo. But then they turned to me and said “who’s preaching on the 14th?”. I lied and said I don’t know because depending on why they laughed I might have changed it. But this person said well because it’ll be the easiest answer of them all. I said “why is that?” and they said because the answer is yes!

It is both a mission center and a social club. I’m sure many of you think so, too. But if I had to guess, most would say the church needs to be a mission center:the place that equips, educates, empowers, and then sends out not just people but disciples to share the gospel in word and deed. That’s what Jesus commands in the Great Commission: Go, baptize, make disciples.

Here at Cross of Grace, that language is familiar. Nearly 25 years ago, when we were just getting started in the school and knocking on doors, we called ourselves a mission center—even without a building. It’s also why we call ourselves Partners in Mission, not members. Members join to consume. Think wellness center, country club, or book club. But partners engage to participate. And this mission of sharing the grace of Jesus Christ, with no strings attached, depends on your participation.

It just so happens that church is also a social club. And sometimes we feel guilty about that—like fellowship is less important than mission, or just a by-product of “real” church work. But here’s the problem: too often we treat mission and worship like consumers. We show up, get what we think we need, and leave. That makes faith transactional—something we “use” to make ourselves better.

So maybe the real question is: should mission always come first, and fellowship second? I don’t think so. I don’t think that’s what the Bible shows us, either. Which is why today I want to come to the defense of church as a social club, because fellowship is not secondary. It’s essential.

Keep in mind, when we talk about church as a mission center or social club, we’re talking in metaphors.

And metaphors are helpful—they give us new ways of seeing something familiar. But no single metaphor ever tells the whole story. Take the old saying that the church is a “hospital for sinners.” It sounds good, but if we lean on it too hard, church becomes just a place you visit when you’re sick, get patched up, and leave until the next problem.

Every metaphor has limits. Whether we call the church a hospital, a mission center, a social club, or one of the thousand other metaphors we use. At best, they point us toward the deeper truth: the church is a community of flawed people, gathered by God, given the gift of grace in Jesus Christ.This gift of grace doesn’t just forgive us; it transforms us. It places us in relationship with God, and that changes who we are.

As Isaiah says, we become a light that reveals the source of our gift, a lens that offers a new way of seeing the world. We become liberators for those held down by oppression.

That is what Jesus did, and that becomes our mission too—not because we have to, but because we can’t help but share what we ourselves have received.

But that kind of work is never easy. It is hard, long, dangerous, and exhausting. Which is why the grace of God doesn’t just send us out—it also gathers us in. It gives us each other. Because if we’re going to live into this mission for any length of time, we will need fellowship.

That’s exactly what we see in Acts. After hearing Peter proclaim the grace of Jesus, the people were moved. But notice what they did next: they didn’t scatter to form food pantries or community centers. Instead, they devoted themselves to eating and praying together.

In just five verses, Acts gives us five reminders of the early church’s desire simply to be with one another.

Fellowship wasn’t an afterthought, and it didn’t come after mission. The two rose up together, side by side, as the Spirit’s gift to the church.

To me, the bigger miracle of Pentecost wasn’t that people suddenly spoke in languages they had never learned. The real miracle was that people actually wanted to be with one another. Can you imagine such a thing in the year of our Lord 2025? Fellowship be damned—we’d rather be alone.

Or maybe the deeper truth is we don’t really know how to be together anymore. And that’s exactly why I want to defend the Church—this church—as a social club for this moment in time. Because if we don’t know how to be together, then practicing fellowship is the mission.

At a time when political violence is rising, when fear of our neighbors is the default, when anxiety and loneliness feel normal—and we’re largely okay with that—the work the church is called to right now is fellowship itself.

And if you think that’s not biblical, Jesus should did spend a lot of time eating and drinking with people…

so much so that he was known as a glutton and a drunk. And the people weren’t just his disciples, but those who were different from him in every imaginable way.

Maybe if we spent more time together, if we ate and drank more together, if we learned how to talk and listen to one another, if we began to see the image of God in each person, we wouldn’t feel the need to tear each other apart over political disagreements.

I know that’s an over simplification, but I also believe it’s true. What’s really happening at our social gatherings—brew club, Mardi Gras, Oktoberfest, moms’ night, or anything else—is that the grace of Jesus Christ is shaping us. It’s teaching us to be a people who want to be together.

This desire is not soft sentimentality. It’s the work of the Spirit: forming in us a determination to care for our neighbors and seek their good, even when they are different, indifferent, or opposed to us. Grace gives us the desire—and the courage—to be in the company of one another.

And when we do, we begin to see the face of God in every person, whether a Partner in Mission, a neighbor, a friend, a Democrat, a Republican, a president, pundit, and more.

The Church is constantly reforming how we meet the needs of our neighbors and the world around us.

Right now that looks like more parties and more fellowship—especially with people who don’t look, act, think, believe, or behave like us.

Yet, what never changes is what we offer. The church, this church, always offers the grace of Jesus, with no strings attached. We offer it at the font, at the table, through the resources we share,

and yes, through the fellowship that binds us together in Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

Asking for a Friend - Literal v. Literate: Can We Square Scripture and Science?

John 9:1-12

As [Jesus] walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see.

The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, “Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?” Some were saying, “It is he.” Others were saying, “No, but it is someone like him.” He kept saying, “I am the man.” But they kept asking him, “Then how were your eyes opened?” He answered, “The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ Then I went and washed and received my sight.” They said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I do not know.”

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[I chose this morning’s Gospel, not because I’m going to spend a lot of time unpacking it, directly, in response to today’s question. I chose it – with the notion of Science and Scripture in mind – to simply show the gulf that exists between the life and times of Jesus in the First Century, and our own day and age. And how differently we are invited to understand Scripture because of that.

The short of the long – and the obvious expression of this – is to see how the people around Jesus believed that that man’s blindness was the result of divine judgment for his sins – or for the sins of his parents – and how he was cast-out and ostracized because of it. We know so much more than that now – and so did Jesus, it seems. Which is why his healing – and the point of the story – wasn’t about a health problem or a physical defect.

Just like those First Century onlookers, we want to pretend this story is about sickness or science, when really it’s all about the forgiveness of sins and showing how wide and merciful God’s love and forgiveness was, is, and can be, when we share it.]

Anyway, shifting gears somewhat to today’s question, which came through in a variety of ways from a variety of sources: Grace Notes, some conversations, the Men’s Bible Study crew, and even a second-hand text from one of our college kids by way of his mother.

I had tried to address it when we kicked off our last sermon series – the one from July, about Genesis, and the primeval mythology of its first 12 chapters. I threw out the phrase “LITERAL v. LITERATE,” and throughout that series Pastor Cogan and I tried to unpack the way those stories in Genesis (Creation, The Flood, The Fall, The Tower of Babel) speak to larger, universal, cosmic Truths, even if we aren’t required to receive them as historically or scientifically accurate accounts.

So, here is a list of the several questions we tried to summarize and roll up into today’s single query:

One was a series of non-sequiturs, asking about Creation in 7 days versus Evolution and the Big Bang Theory, dinosaurs, and how people add up the life-lengths and say that is the age of the earth, …etc.

There was a reference to “Talking snakes,” the Nephilim, and the plural use of God in Genesis 3:22 – where God was apparently concerned that Adam and Eve would become like “one of us.”

Did God actually walk in The Garden with Adam and Eve?

How do you reconcile “time” in the Bible, including the ages of people? (Like how did Abraham live to be 175 years? Or Moses 120? Or Adam 930? Or Methuselah 969?)

I don’t want to be too simplistic, or to dismiss the thoughtfulness and concern over these kinds of questions. But I have to say that faithful people – especially rationally-thinking, scientifically-minded faithful people – have been making more of this than is necessary for far too long. It can be fun to do, don’t get me wrong. And there may even be meaning to be found in some of it.

But all of the math, numerology, guess-work and mental gymnastics it takes to “make sense of” what are often nothing more than literary devices or culturally particular context clues or plain-old hyperbole reminds me of the way Swifties dissect Taylor Swift’s liner notes, album covers, wardrobe changes, or even the tchotchkes on the wall behind her during that interview with the Kelce brothers a couple of weeks ago. Again, it can be fun. And every once in a while you might find an Easter egg. But you don’t have to go into those weeds in order to enjoy or find meaning in the music’s big picture.

The short of the long – where the Bible is concerned, is – we don’t need to get into those weeds, do all of that math, or believe that Moses lived to be 120. Or that Methusela died at the ripe old age of 969. Or that Noah built a boat big enough to hold two of every creature on the planet, including the Tyrannosaurus Rex. Or that God jumped off of a cloud to walk with Adam and Eve.

(For the record, even though I don’t believe God left actual footprints in Eden, I did have a moment once at the cemetery in Lindsay, Ohio, where my maternal grandparents are buried, to the degree that I think I know what Genesis means when it says they heard the sound of God “walking in the garden at the time of the evening breeze.”)

Nonetheless, we don’t always have to connect all of those confusing, confounding impossible dots, either.

To put it plainly, the Bible is not a science book – and it doesn’t pretend or need to be. Every part of it isn’t a history book, either – and it doesn’t pretend or need to be. The Bible is a book of books – oral history, letters, poems, songs, stories, prophecies, and more, that never intended to be collected, assembled, and bound into a single tome. Humans did that. Male humans – with power and privilege – did that. And we should be wary of what male humans with power and privilege can do with things like science, history, and the stories of people. (That may be another sermon or another day.)

But in spite of that … still … by the grace of God, the Bible is beautiful and points us toward God’s love and plan for creation at every turn – or it should. And that is how I hope we are inclined and inspired to read, receive, and report what we find in God’s word through the pages of Scripture.

Now, bear with me, but another way I have explained this, is to tell the story of my dad’s Caesar Salad. My dad makes a mean Caesar Salad. It’s been a while since I’ve had it, but growing up it was a staple, whenever we had family or friends over for a nice dinner. The dressing is made with, among other things, a raw egg, Worcestershire sauce, a ton of garlic, lemon juice, and anchovy paste. And even though I can picture him whipping up this concoction a million times while I was growing up, I never really realized or thought about what I was eating, until I asked for the recipe, the first time I tried to impress Christa for a Valentine’s Day dinner when we were just dating, 500 years ago, back in the 1900’s.

(See what I did there? That’s the kind of hyperbole that makes a point, without needing to be historically accurate. Bible writers did that too.)

Anyway, the problem was, my dad never used a recipe when he made his Caesar Salad, so his instructions, delivered by e-mail and then over the phone, were more than a little vague. There were no measuring cups or Table spoons involved. It was, “Use one egg or two depending how much lettuce you have.” It was, “Use a lot of garlic. You can’t really use too much garlic.” It was, “Throw in a couple of splashes of Worcestershire sauce.” And it was, “Squeeze a line of anchovy paste into it, about the length of a couple of knuckles.”

Actually, the clearest – and most meaningful – instruction I received that first time around, after giving him grief for how impossibly unclear he was, was when he said, “Mark, you know what it’s supposed to look and taste like when it’s finished. Just make it like that.”

All of this is to say – again – in answer to the question about if and how we are able to square Science with Scripture – is that we don’t have to.

Martin Luther described the Bible as a cradle that merely, but meaningfully, bears the Christ child. And it is a liberating relief for me to say that we don’t worship the words in a book, we worship the Word made flesh, in Jesus.

We worship Jesus – and the unmitigated, radical, counter-cultural, uncomfortable love and grace he shares. The love of God in Jesus is to be the heart and soul and goal of whatever we’re reading into and pulling out of Holy Scripture. We are reading the Bible faithfully – we square science and scripture (or we liberate ourselves from checking our brains at the door or from trying to cram square pegs into round holes) – when and only when, the crucified and risen Jesus, the loving and living God, is what we receive and share through our best interpretations and our most humble understandings of what we find in its pages.

My dad suggested that I'd know it when I saw it, tasted it, presented it, and shared his version of a Caesar Salad with Christa. Throughout Holy Scripture we are invited to see a whole picture of God’s love and grace, in Jesus. Some stories seem harsh and unforgiving. Some are packed with immeasurable grace. So many ancient tales just can’t be reconciled with our modern understanding of how the world works.

But when we toss them all together and when we turn them over in our minds with hearts set on God’s larger story and finished product of love, mercy, forgiveness, and hope, these stories tell a story of grace for the whole wide world that can’t be measured or made sense of, no matter how hard we try to do the math or crunch the numbers. It all only makes sense and measures up by grace, through faith – not because of the words in a book, but because of in the Word of love, made flesh, in Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.