For some this word describes an activity that we participate in weekly. Something that we “do”. 

For others this words describes a place, a building where we go to participate in something. Someplace where we “go”.

I don’t remember who said this, but I remember reading or hearing that we need to stop saying we are “going” to church, because we are the church. We can’t go someplace when we are the place itself. And not just the place but the soul within the place.

Can the “we” as the church stop being a place and return to being a person?

And as people we are needy. Even if you don’t feel like you have emotional needs you have physical needs, you don’t just like food, water, roofs, shoes, you need them. And I venture to say that in the dark of your mind and heart you may know some other things that you need.

I think my church is needy. Like, really needy, like ravingly insecure, freakishly needy. And people don’t always like me.

I think lots of people believe that the church does not need people. 

The church always needs money and bigger facilities and more help in the nursery, but the church doesn’t need people. At least not in the way that people need people. If the church is a place and an activity then those things don’t need, those things don’t have emotions, those things are things…not people.

But what happens when a church (remember not a building but a group of people) is very obviously needy and needy in the sense that they need people. Not just money, or better facilities or more help in the nursery, but people. And not in the sense that people = numbers=money=success=better Christians, but in the sense that hearts and dreams and talents and minds are needed. Are you humming the Streisand tune, “People?  “People…people who need people are the luckiest people in the world.” When and why did this stop holding truth?

I am certain and certainly fearful that I need people. So that means that my church needs people and I think my church is pretty obvious about that. When someone leaves us that loss is grieved. Grieved. Tears, anger, denial, all five steps of grief. I think in our neediness we place a lot of importance on each person and this is difficult for the other person to take.

It means you are important.

It means we want you. And it is not easy to be loved and wanted.

It means we all are responsible, you are responsible and we often don’t want anymore responsibility than we already have.

I think because my church is needy in this way, because I am needy in this way, we are/I am looked at as weak, unsuccessful, failing, wilting and stupid. People think we should be strong, but strong as in brick building, 2-story, 5 services, 35 person staff, million dollar budget strong and I don’t think that is real strength.

I can’t stop needing. It’s a wound in my person that can’t be closed. But, my wound, although tender, isn’t bleeding. Not really. I’m just oozing me. My self. Sounds dangerous, but it isn’t really, not when people are there to stand next to my ooze, willing to get it on their shoes, on their hands. They see me as a person, not a place, not an activity, but a woman who needs love and who has love to give. They see me as part of the church, a body part of a body, sometimes a hand, maybe a brain here and there, or at least a big toe, but always a heart. And they see a strength not a weakness. They know that even if I never have money or a big house or help out a lot in the nursery that I’m still worthy and I know that even if all those thing aren’t true about you that you are worthy too.

A needy person, a needy church…in need of provision, shelter, protection, salvation, love…doesn’t sound too bad, doesn’t sound untrue…sounds a little like…me…you…us…

Don’t you want to stand next to me? Don’t you want to let me love you? Let me, let the church love you. She can, He will.