What If Sunday Morning isn't About Checking Boxes?
What if it is a vital connection to an eternal community in Jesus?
True confession. It was Sunday, and I didn’t go to church. Weird way to start an article on the importance of gathering as a church, right?
It wasn’t because I didn’t want to. I wasn’t frustrated or pulling away. I just… couldn’t.
I’d spent Friday and Saturday in spiritual direction training—two long, intense days that stirred things deep down. Good things. But also heavy things. And by Sunday morning, I was empty.
I didn’t need a bulletin or a sermon. I needed breath.
So I drove to Hartman Creek State Park. I walked slowly under the trees. Sat on a bench by the lake. Let the stillness do its work.
And I wondered—quietly, honestly—is this okay?
Yes, it’s okay. God met me there.
The day felt like it had been handpicked for recovery. A cool breeze drifted through the pines. The path stayed shaded even as the sun climbed higher. And the mourning doves, my mom’s favorite, called back and forth with their low, haunting notes. I’ve always heard something sad in their song. But that morning, it sounded more like stillness. Like peace.
And somehow, I knew God was there. Not in a dramatic way. Not with answers or flashes of insight. Just… present. Kind. Calm. Almost like God was saying, “I know. Rest here awhile.”
That’s how healing begins sometimes, with permission to be still.
He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside quiet waters. He restores my soul. (Psalm 23:2)
But that doesn’t mean we don’t need church.
Here’s the thing: that solitary moment didn’t make the church unnecessary.
If anything, it reminded me why the gathered church matters.
Because Sunday morning was never meant to be a box we check. It’s not about performance, pressure, or pretending we’re more “together” than we are.
At its best, it’s about connection. Real, life-giving connection. To God. To one another. To the long, unfolding story we’ve been swept into.
Why the Gathering Still Matters
1. Because God deserves it.
Worship isn’t a transaction. It’s a response.
We gather to say, with our songs and our silence, our prayers and our presence: You are worthy.
Even when we’re tired. Even when we feel nothing.
Because God is still God.
And when we center our attention on him, even imperfectly, something reorients inside us.
2. Because God is uniquely present.
Yes, God meets us in the woods and on solo walks.
But Scripture also speaks of something different, something deeper, when we gather in Jesus’ name.
Jesus says, “Where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” (Matthew 18:20)
There’s a kind of presence that comes through shared worship. Through the mystery of
communion. Through voices raised together in prayer or praise.
We don’t conjure it. We enter into it. But, if we only have an individual experience of God, we miss it. We miss Him in this way.
3. Because we need each other.
Sitting by the lake even in the calm and healing, I knew there was something … well … missing.
Left to ourselves, we tend to drift. We tell ourselves the same stories, nurse the same wounds, spiral in the same directions.
But in community?
We’re stretched. Encouraged. Seen.
We hear someone else’s faith when ours feels fragile.
And the reverse of that is often true too! There is someone there that needs your unique smile. If you stay away, other people miss out on the blessing of … you!
As a gathered body, we offer what we can and receive what we need.
“Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together… but encouraging one another.” (Hebrews 10:24–25)
It’s not about having a perfect church or always showing up energized.
It’s about choosing to walk this road together.
Even when it’s ordinary.
Especially then.
What If We Thought About Sunday Differently?
What if Sunday wasn’t about obligation, but rhythm?
Not about performance, but presence?
What if the goal wasn’t to feel better or prove something real.
What if the main goal is simply to be connected?
To God.
To one another.
To the eternal community rooted in Jesus Christ.
The Both/And Life
There will be Sundays when your soul needs to sit in silence by a lake … sometimes.
But I would venture to say that usually your tired heart needs the singing voices around you to carry your prayer. Or maybe that person sitting two rows behind you needs you to carry theirs.
Grace holds space for both.
The God who meets you by the water also meets you in the sanctuary.
So as you think about next Sunday consider this: What has Sunday meant to you lately?
What are you hoping to receive… or offer… the next time we gather?
True confession. It was Sunday, and I didn’t go to church. Weird way to start an article on the importance of gathering as a church, right?
It wasn’t because I didn’t want to. I wasn’t frustrated or pulling away. I just… couldn’t.
I’d spent Friday and Saturday in spiritual direction training—two long, intense days that stirred things deep down. Good things. But also heavy things. And by Sunday morning, I was empty.
I didn’t need a bulletin or a sermon. I needed breath.
So I drove to Hartman Creek State Park. I walked slowly under the trees. Sat on a bench by the lake. Let the stillness do its work.
And I wondered—quietly, honestly—is this okay?
Yes, it’s okay. God met me there.
The day felt like it had been handpicked for recovery. A cool breeze drifted through the pines. The path stayed shaded even as the sun climbed higher. And the mourning doves, my mom’s favorite, called back and forth with their low, haunting notes. I’ve always heard something sad in their song. But that morning, it sounded more like stillness. Like peace.
And somehow, I knew God was there. Not in a dramatic way. Not with answers or flashes of insight. Just… present. Kind. Calm. Almost like God was saying, “I know. Rest here awhile.”
That’s how healing begins sometimes, with permission to be still.
He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside quiet waters. He restores my soul. (Psalm 23:2)
But that doesn’t mean we don’t need church.
Here’s the thing: that solitary moment didn’t make the church unnecessary.
If anything, it reminded me why the gathered church matters.
Because Sunday morning was never meant to be a box we check. It’s not about performance, pressure, or pretending we’re more “together” than we are.
At its best, it’s about connection. Real, life-giving connection. To God. To one another. To the long, unfolding story we’ve been swept into.
Why the Gathering Still Matters
1. Because God deserves it.
Worship isn’t a transaction. It’s a response.
We gather to say, with our songs and our silence, our prayers and our presence: You are worthy.
Even when we’re tired. Even when we feel nothing.
Because God is still God.
And when we center our attention on him, even imperfectly, something reorients inside us.
2. Because God is uniquely present.
Yes, God meets us in the woods and on solo walks.
But Scripture also speaks of something different, something deeper, when we gather in Jesus’ name.
Jesus says, “Where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” (Matthew 18:20)
There’s a kind of presence that comes through shared worship. Through the mystery of
communion. Through voices raised together in prayer or praise.
We don’t conjure it. We enter into it. But, if we only have an individual experience of God, we miss it. We miss Him in this way.
3. Because we need each other.
Sitting by the lake even in the calm and healing, I knew there was something … well … missing.
Left to ourselves, we tend to drift. We tell ourselves the same stories, nurse the same wounds, spiral in the same directions.
But in community?
We’re stretched. Encouraged. Seen.
We hear someone else’s faith when ours feels fragile.
And the reverse of that is often true too! There is someone there that needs your unique smile. If you stay away, other people miss out on the blessing of … you!
As a gathered body, we offer what we can and receive what we need.
“Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together… but encouraging one another.” (Hebrews 10:24–25)
It’s not about having a perfect church or always showing up energized.
It’s about choosing to walk this road together.
Even when it’s ordinary.
Especially then.
What If We Thought About Sunday Differently?
What if Sunday wasn’t about obligation, but rhythm?
Not about performance, but presence?
What if the goal wasn’t to feel better or prove something real.
What if the main goal is simply to be connected?
To God.
To one another.
To the eternal community rooted in Jesus Christ.
The Both/And Life
There will be Sundays when your soul needs to sit in silence by a lake … sometimes.
But I would venture to say that usually your tired heart needs the singing voices around you to carry your prayer. Or maybe that person sitting two rows behind you needs you to carry theirs.
Grace holds space for both.
The God who meets you by the water also meets you in the sanctuary.
So as you think about next Sunday consider this: What has Sunday meant to you lately?
What are you hoping to receive… or offer… the next time we gather?
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