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 - Thy Kingdom Come?

Matthew 6:7-13

“When you are praying, do not heap up empty phrases as the gentiles do, for they think that they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.

“Pray, then, in this way:

Our Father in heaven,

    may your name be revered as holy.

    May your kingdom come.

    May your will be done

        on earth as it is in heaven.

    Give us today our daily bread.

    And forgive us our debts,

        as we also have forgiven our debtors.

    And do not bring us to the time of trial,

        but rescue us from the evil one.

“For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you,

We begin a new series today called “Asking for a Friend: Real Questions. Honest Faith.” Usually we say Asking for a friend jokingly, when we want to know something for ourselves but might be too shy or embarrassed to ask. Yet, over the past several weeks we have gathered questions that you want answered. We’ve taken those questions, grouped a few, and over the next eight weeks we will answer each of them. In a literal sense, these people have asked their question, not just for themselves but for you too. Because I am certain with each question someone else sitting here or watching will say, I had the same question. You are the “friend” in this series. 

And what a gift it is to have thoughtful, honest questions raised about all sorts of faith things: from prayer to evolution, biblical interpretation to politics, heaven and hell, and more. We will do our best not to provide simple, sure answers, but to wrestle openly, honestly, faithfully with the questions raised. A favorite quip in our household comes from a college professor Katelyn and I both had who said, one’s faith is only as strong as their willingness to question it. Hopefully this series will do exactly that; strengthen our faith through the questions we engage.

So to our first question, “what exactly do we mean when we say, ‘thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.’” I love this question for lots of reasons. It is concise and clear, as are all the best questions. It’s one of the rare occurrences when Jesus gives exact words to say. We often get things to do, fewer things to say, and even fewer to pray. So I’d say that it’s worth our study. 

And lastly, it is about something so familiar that rarely, if ever, do we stop to ask, what am I, what are we, actually saying? We pray this prayer aloud, together, every Sunday. You probably say it throughout the week. But when was the last time you wondered “ what am I praying for with this prayer?” 

But beware, “thy kingdom come, thy will be done” is a dangerous prayer. Dangerous for the world as we know it, and for us.

It’s dangerous for the world because it is, in part, a political prayer. I’m guessing you never thought you were bringing politics into your prayer life every time you said the Lord’s Prayer—but indeed we are. And we can blame Jesus for that. Because in those three little words—thy kingdom come—Jesus is saying an awful lot. 

The kingdom on earth in Jesus’ time was Rome. A few wealthy men ruled, including Herod. Those who served the empire or its military were well off. There was no middle class. Everyone else—local businesspeople, artisans, and especially fishermen and farmers—were peasants, including Jesus. 

Herod was the ruler of Galilee, where Jesus grew up and began his ministry. But Galilee was under Roman rule, which meant Herod answered to Rome, not to his people. Like all earthly empires, this one hurt people, kept power in the hands of a few, and disregarded the lives of many, especially the people Jesus spent most of his time with.

So when Jesus says thy kingdom come, he’s saying: “things are not as they should be. 

This empire of violence, oppression, and greed must be undone—stopped, even replaced. 

And in its place, give us your kingdom, Lord.” 

Which, if we pay attention to how Jesus describes it, is a rather radical thing to pray for. 

A kingdom where the last are first and the first last? 

A kingdom like a wedding party where the invited guests refuse to come, so people off the street—good and bad alike—are welcomed instead? 

A kingdom described as seeds and weeds and small, insignificant things? That’s what Jesus wants us to pray for? 

A kingdom that couldn’t be more at odds with the world as it is? 

Yes. Exactly.

Jesus praying that prayer—and telling others to pray it too—was a threat to Herod and to Rome. Which shouldn’t surprise us. After all, Jesus had been a threat to the kingdoms of the world since his birth.

What that means for us is that we too are asking for God’s kingdom to come, reforming all the violent, oppressive, greedy kingdoms of this world. It means we recognize that things are not as they should be in this world: hungry children dying in Gaza, a week ago today 5 kids were shot not 10 miles from here, the wealthy growing wealthier while others are crushed by scarcity. 

And because of all that and more, we long to be part of God’s kingdom—a kingdom of grace and mercy, of debts forgiven and cheeks turned, of self-sacrifice and love. When we pray thy kingdom come, we are praying not only for us to be in the kingdom, but for the kingdom to be in us. That we might be God’s kingdom at work in the world. Sounds pretty dangerous to me. But perhaps no more dangerous than the next part: thy will be done.

And for this I need to share a story about my son, Clive. He is a wonderful, joyous, and downright defiant little creature. I have never known someone so uncooperative in all my life! 

Last week we were trying to get breakfast together. I asked him, "Do you want some oatmeal?" and he said, "No! I want candy!"

"No buddy, we don’t eat candy for breakfast."

"But that’s what I want."

"Clive, you can’t eat candy for breakfast."

"I want blue candy for breakfast!"

I thought, I can’t even think of what candy that might be… 

So I said again, "Clive, we can’t have candy for breakfast, it’s not good for us."

To which he responded, "But it’s yummy and I want it!" and then proceeded to sprawl on the floor and cry. All I could do was laugh.

But it made me think: this is how God must see us. Wonderful, joyous, but downright defiant little creatures who do what they will, regardless of whether it’s what God wills for us.

When we say, “thy will be done”, we’re recognizing that the things we want are not always what they should be; like blue candy for breakfast, or whatever the newest, greatest product is. 

We live in a culture that says the perfect life is always one more purchase away—one more pill, one more upgrade, one more new thing. But the life we want is always just out of reach.

So we pray thy will be done.

We beg God to take away our heart’s desires and replace them with God’s desires.

That’s dangerous.

Because God’s will might not look like what we want.

It might hurt. It might be uncomfortable. It might change us entirely. That was the case for Jesus, after all.

When we say those four little words, we’re really saying: Have mercy on us, Lord.

Don’t let things happen just because we want them to.

Give us patience.

Give us grace.

Give us strength.

To bear whatever you ask of us—

crucifying our will,

And raising up your divine will in its place.

That’s a dangerous prayer indeed.

We’re not just confessing that the world is marked by sin and sorrow—we’re admitting that we are too. So we ask God to change us so that we might go and change the world, little by little, bit by bit, until this world and those on it feel like we are in heaven, which is the goal, isn’t it? 

And by this, I don’t mean heaven, as a place, but as a condition - because to be in heaven is nothing other than being with God. So when God’s way of doing things takes over the world and our hearts, we will be with God and God will be with us in the best, fullest way possible. In that way, earth will be as it is in heaven. 

And that sounds even better than blue candy for breakfast. 

Amen.