You can be surrounded by people at church and still feel like you are on the outside looking in.

We welcome, but do we build belonging?

Francis Chan tells a story that has stayed with me for years. A gang member found his way into his church. For the first few weeks, the church responded brilliantly: people noticed him, were excited, talked to him, prayed for him, and made him feel seen and accepted.

So, he kept coming. He heard the gospel. After a few weeks, he came to faith and was baptized. He jumped into everything the church had to offer. Then, after a few more weeks, he stopped coming. Francis went looking for him. When he finally found him, he asked what happened. The man’s answer was simple and brutal:

“When I first came, you told me this was a family. You told me I could belong. Everyone was excited about me at first, but after I came to faith, everything changed. When the study was over, the family time was over. When I struggled to live the Christian life, nobody had time for me. When I invited people into my life, they weren’t as interested once I wasn’t a ‘project.’ I have a family in the gang. I have people who are there for me. I thought the church would be a better version of that family, but it wasn’t.”

That story has real teeth because it names a reality many church communities face: we can be good at welcoming people, but we struggle to walk with them through life and to connect deeply. A church can have great preaching, beautiful music, holistic ministries, and yet still not be a true family or a healthy body. For the weary and wary, spotless programming isn’t the answer; a belonging culture is.

So, what does a belonging culture actually do to create that culture? I think the answer is two-fold, and it’s captured in a simple phrase: “Come as you are. But don’t stay as you are.” I will focus on the first part of the phrase this week, and follow-up with the second half next week.

 

Come as you are…

I once saw a church sign that said, “No perfect people allowed. Come as you are.” As my children say, “That’s so cringe.” I admit, it is cheesy. That is, until you realize how rare it actually is in the church.

When I worked as a carpenter, I had a friend I invited to church. After lots of resistance, he finally laid out why he would never go to church: “The people are too judgy.” Yikes. The sad part is I couldn’t argue with him.

Most churches do not wear judgment like a jersey. It shows up more subtly: the head-to-toe evaluating look, the raised eyebrow, the awkward silence when you share something real, or the less-than-slight pressure to look and act “fine.”

The result has been that many people quickly learn what is safe to share and what is not in the church. They learn how to edit themselves. They learn how to keep the messy parts hidden. They learn how to belong by pretending.

The answer is that we truly need a “come as you are” culture. However, a “come as you are” culture rarely manifests without intentionality. When I think about what it actually takes to build a “come as you are” culture, three passages come to mind. These Scripture verses tell us what kind of people we’re meant to be with one another.

First is Matthew 11.28, where Jesus says, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” The church should build itself to be like that. A place where tired people can rest, worn-out people are not treated like burdens, the wounded don’t have to pretend they’re okay, and the shamed do not have to perform.

What’s incredible is how little effort it can take to begin creating this kind of culture. Sometimes it’s as simple as asking one gentle question that invites honesty like, “How has your week been, really?” Or, “Is there anything you’d like prayer for?” If the questions stay surface-level, that’s fine. You’re not extracting a confession. You’re opening a door.

Second is Romans 15.7. Paul says, “Welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you.” That’s the standard. Notice it is not “welcome people who are put together or who fit the culture,” but “welcome one another the way Jesus welcomed you,” with patience, mercy, and love. And here’s what that can look like in normal, ordinary-people ways. Offer your name, and ask for theirs. Notice someone sitting alone and simply sit near them. Follow up on something they mentioned last week, even if it’s just, “I’ve been praying for you.” These are small acts, but they communicate something large. You are seen, you are not alone, and you matter here.

Third is Mark 3.1–6, the story of the man with the withered hand. He’s in the synagogue, and Jesus calls him forward into the middle. Then Jesus tells him to stretch out his hand. It’s the one thing he can’t do, and the one thing he wouldn’t want to do, and yet when he does, healing comes.

Our Courageous Men of Friday Morning have a practice we call “stretching out the withered hand,” taken straight from that Gospel scene and reinforced by John Ortberg’s Steps, which we’ve been studying together. It’s a simple practice of bringing what is weak, broken, or hidden into the light so that it can be met with prayer, love, and the continual mercy of Jesus through His people.

That practice only works if the culture is safe. Specifically, it only works if the reflex of the room is honor instead of judgment, and gentleness instead of advice-giving, and presence instead of distancing.

 

Close the Belonging Gap

So, a “come as you are” culture is not built by big personalities or elaborate programs. It’s built when ordinary people decide to build a safe place for one another.  A gospel culture begins by saying, “You are safe here.” And it keeps proving it, week after week, through welcome, burden-bearing, prayer, and the love of Jesus.

So let me give you one simple next step. Make one small change in your church habit this week. Learn one new name, or relearn one you have forgotten. Sit near the person who is alone. Ask one gentle question that opens a door. Call or text someone who has been struggling and simply say, “I am praying for you.” You do not have to fix anyone. You simply need to move toward them.

When a church does this, people no longer feel like projects. They start feeling like family. The “family time” does not end when the study ends. And the person trying to leave an old life behind does not have to go back to find belonging elsewhere.

Next week, we will look at the second half of the phrase: “But do not stay as you are.”

Fr. Chase