Not long after my sister and brother -in -law
got married, he set out to assemble a grill.
Now, if you ask him, the manufacturer simply
forgot to send all the parts. But if you ask
my sister, she's pretty sure he never actually
looked at the instructions in the first place.
What I do know is that grill did not go together
the way he thought. After a lot of sweating and
profound crisis of patience, that grill ended
up thrown straight out into the yard. Which honestly
is, I guess, one way to handle an unclear assembly
process. But if we're going to be honest, we've
all done something similar. Some of us probably
have a piece of furniture in our house right
now that we hope guests don't take a close look
at. You know that one. You claimed the box was
maybe missing some parts too. But deep down,
you know you skipped a bracket that didn't seem
that necessary. And now the whole thing just
leans a little bit. And it makes you a little
nervous. But it looked close enough to the picture
that you just kept going. And I think we do the
exact same thing with the church. We recognize
the individual parts. We know there should be
preaching, worship, prayer, leadership, fellowship,
and a sign up to serve somewhere. Because we've
seen those pieces arranged the same way for most
of our lives. We assume we know exactly how the
whole thing is supposed to function. But familiarity?
is not the same thing as instruction. Something
can look dangerously close to the picture while
still being built on assumptions that were never
part of the original blueprint. This season isn't
about throwing the church into the yard. This
isn't a deconstruction project, and it's not
a cynical attack on pastors, traditions, buildings,
or denominations. It's simply about slowing down
long enough to open the manual, Scripture, and
ask, a foundational question. Does what we believe
about the church match what Jesus actually built?
Before we talk about leadership structures, growth
strategies, shepherding, conflict, or multiplication,
we have to start at square one. What actually
is the church? Welcome to Grace in the Grind,
brought to you by Arrow and Roots Coffee Company,
where faith meets the everyday. Here we take
time to notice God's presence in the middle of
life's busiest moments, to find encouragement,
clarity, and a reminder of His grace right in
the grind of daily life. So grab your coffee,
and let's take a sip of this cup together. Today,
we are unpacking one of the easiest traps to
fall into when it comes to church, assuming that
because we recognize the pieces, we understand
the design. Most of us know the drill when we
walk into a Sunday gathering. a few prayers,
and some fellowship over mediocre coffee. Those
things are familiar, and honestly, a lot of them
are at least somewhat biblical. But just like
that backyard grill, having all the right parts
sitting on the lawn doesn't mean they've been
put together correctly. Most of us never sat
down and asked, where did my understanding of
church actually come from? We just inherited
it. We understood it from the congregation we
grew up in, the denomination that shaped us,
the pastors we trusted. and traditions that were
already in place long before we arrived. A lot
of that inheritance is good, faithful, and beautiful,
but most of us never stop to examine it. We just
assumed that because it was familiar, and because
faithful people handed it to us, it must be the
design scripture gives us. But inherited does
not automatically mean examined. Familiar does
not automatically mean faithful, and functional
does not always mean aligned. We use the word
church to describe a lot of different things.
We call the building the church. We call the
Sunday gathering church. We call the organization
and its programs church. And again, those things
can help the church do what it's called to do.
But none of them by itself is the church. Today,
we're looking at Matthew 16, Acts 2, and 1 Peter
2. Together, they give us a picture of the church
that is deeper than a building. Broader than
a weekly service and far more personal than an
organization. We aren't asking what kind of church
we prefer today. We're asking what Christ actually
established. Because if we don't get the definition
right, we can spend years tightening bolts on
something that was never put together according
to the instructions. If we want to know what
the church is, we have to start with the one
who built it. In Matthew 16. Jesus asks his disciples
a question. Who do people say the Son of Man
is? They give him the popular answers, John the
Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah, or one of the prophets.
But then Jesus turns the question directly towards
them. But who do you say that I am? Peter, being
the one that's going to jump in quick, says,
You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.
And Jesus responds, On this rock, I will build
my church. and the gates of hell shall not prevail
against it. Just slow down and listen to the
wording. I will build my church. Jesus isn't
speaking like a consultant offering suggestions.
He speaks as the owner. It is his church. He
is the builder. He is the one with the authority
to define what it is and what it's for. That
means we cannot begin with what's most popular,
what seems most effective, Or what feels most
comfortable to us? Those questions may have a
place somewhere. But they do not come first.
The first question is, what kind of church is
Jesus building? We don't get to manufacture it.
We receive it as something he's already defined.
And Jesus is not merely maintaining an institution.
He's building a people. The Greek word here that
we call church is ekklesia, meaning an assembly
or congregation. That does not make Sunday gatherings
optional or unimportant. The church gathers because
it is a community of people. But the gathering
is not the whole definition either. The church
exists before you pull into the parking lot on
a Sunday morning. And it keeps existing long
after the benediction is spoken and the lights
are turned off. It's the people of Christ living
under the lordship of Christ. We see this play
out vividly in Acts chapter 2. After Peter preaches
at Pentecost, the text says about 3 ,000 people
were added to their number in a single day. That
is a spectacular growth statistic. But Luke doesn't
just give us the number and move on. He shows
us what that 3 ,000 people actually did. They
devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching
and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread
and prayers. Acts 2 is not a command to reproduce
every detail of first century Jerusalem. but
it does reveal the kind of devotion, shared life,
the gospel produced. Pay attention to the word
devoted. They didn't casually sample these things
when their schedules allowed. They built their
lives around them. They shared life. They ate
meals in each other's homes. They prayed together.
They met practical needs. They worshipped. This
was not, see you next Sunday, and hopefully everything
goes well until then. Their lives had started
overlapping. They weren't just a crowd of individuals
who happened to attend the same weekend event.
They were a family. Their faith was personal,
but it was never private. Sometimes we want to
walk in, receive something helpful, and leave
without anybody knowing enough about us to ask
the difficult questions. And look, preaching
does matter. Singing matters and prayer matters.
Gathering is a big deal. But Acts 2 describes
a shared life shaped by the gospel. They weren't
just receiving something from the gathering.
They were carrying responsibility for one another.
Peter brings this home with a striking picture
in 1 Peter 2. He calls Jesus the living stone,
rejected by the world but precious to God. Then
he turns to believers and says, You yourselves.
Like living stones are being built up as a spiritual
house. Think about that image. Peter's picture
does not leave us as individual rocks scattered
around the property. Christ is fitting us together.
A stone by itself may be useful. It may even
be beautiful. But it's not a house. A house only
takes shape when the stones are joined together
according to the builder's design. That means
Christian life was never intended to be lived.
in permanent isolation. Now there are seasons
where connection is difficult. Hurt can make
it hard. Illness can make it tough. Distance,
grief, limited options, or a season of recovery
can make it hard to be joined together. But scripture
does not allow for chosen disconnection as the
normal pattern of Christian life. If Christ is
the cornerstone, then every living stone is positioned
in relation to him. And if you are joined to
Christ, you are also joined to his people. The
New Testament uses words like body, household,
flock, and family. It keeps pointing us back
to the same truth. We belong to Christ. And because
we belong to Christ, we belong to one another.
So let me ask this clearly. When you read those
passages, does that sound like the way we actually
experience church? I'm not asking if it's familiar
because you've heard those verses before, but
is it familiar because it describes the culture
your local body has? Are we sharing life together
or only sitting in adjacent chairs? If someone
began to drift or they're hurting, would the
body notice and move towards them? If the New
Testament picture feels foreign, the answer isn't
to become cynical or start throwing rocks at
your local church. It is an invitation to examine
our own hearts and ask where our expectations
and habits need to be brought back into alignment
with Scripture. One of the easiest places to
spot this misalignment is right in our own vocabulary.
We ask things like, Are you going to church today?
What time does church start? I've missed church
this weekend. I say all those things. I am not
suggesting we start correcting one another in
the parking lot every time somebody says they
are going to church. We all know what we mean.
We mean the gathering. But the words we default
to can reveal what we instinctively picture.
If the church is primarily an event I attend
then my role can slowly be reduced to that of
an audience member. I arrive, I listen, I receive,
then I leave. But the New Testament describes
something much deeper than an attendance. It
describes people joined to Christ and joined
to one another. The question is not only, did
I attend? It is also, am I being built together
with other believers? And before anybody hears
me saying something I'm not saying, let me be
clear. I am not against church buildings. The
Sunday service is not the enemy. Programs and
organization are not inherently wrong. A church
building can be a tremendous tool. It gives us
a place to gather, teach children, feed people,
care for those who are hurting, and walk with
one another through weddings, funerals, and ordinary
life. Organization helps us steward resources
well. Programs can create opportunities for discipleship
and service. The danger comes when the tool quietly
becomes the identity. A building can house the
church, but it isn't the church. A service can
gather the church, but it isn't the whole life
of the church. A program can help people grow,
but it can never replace real, messy relationships.
It's incredibly easy for this kind of conversation
to turn into a bitter, hypocritical rant. We
can start talking as if the church has completely
failed for 2 ,000 years and we are the first
generation wise enough to notice. And honestly,
there is some arrogance in that. As though generations
of faithful believers missed everything and we
finally arrive to straighten them out. God has
been profoundly faithful to his people through
deeply flawed, imperfect congregations for generations.
Most of us heard the gospel inside a traditional
church building. We learned Bible stories in
Sunday school rooms with flannel graph. We were
loved, prayed for, and sustained by older saints
whose names may never be known outside of their
small towns. I am profoundly grateful for the
churches and the pastor that shaped me and the
ones that didn't do everything perfectly even.
Grace allows us to be grateful and honest at
the same time. We can honor what was faithful
without pretending it was flawless. We can say
God deeply used that environment while still
allowing scripture to realign our current practices.
Christ hasn't given up on his bride. He is still
building, refining, and restoring her. The hope
of the church does not rest on our ability to
engineer the perfect model. It rests entirely
on the promise of the one who said, I will build
my church. So here's what I want to invite you
to this week. Read Acts 2 and 1 Peter 2, but
do not read them with your pastor's face in mind.
Do not read them to build a case against your
church. Do not read them as a checklist for everything
somebody else should fix. Ask, Lord, where am
I in this picture? Am I making myself available
to be known? Am I allowing other believers to
encourage me, challenge me, and correct me? Am
I sharing life with people? Do I know what the
people around me are carrying? Am I using what
God has given me to strengthen the body? The
church is not them. If you belong to Jesus, the
church is us. And that means this conversation
has to begin with what Christ may be asking of
me. For some listeners, church brings up beautiful
memories. For others, it brings up real wounds.
Being overlooked, unsupported, controlled, or
hurt by people who represented Christ poorly.
Those experiences should not be minimized. But
here's the thing. We can't let our best experiences
or our deepest hurts define the church. Only
Christ gets to do that. Human failure does not
invalidate his design. It shows how deeply we
need his grace to live it out. Before we close,
I want to thank you for being a part of Grace
in the Grind. If these conversations are helping
you think more carefully about scripture and
live your faith more intentionally, one of the
simplest ways to support the podcast is by grabbing
a bag of coffee from Aaron Roots Coffee Company.
You get genuinely good coffee and it helps us
keep making episodes like this one. You can find
Arrow and Roots through the link in the show
notes. No pressure, no guilt, just good coffee
helping support honest conversations about following
Jesus in everyday life. That backyard grill ended
up abandoned in the yard because the pieces didn't
fit. Whether that was actually due to missing
parts from the factory or because the instruction
manual was treated like an optional suggestion,
I don't know. And look. I'm not throwing stones.
I have plenty of questionably assembled pieces
of furniture in my own home that wouldn't pass
a serious inspection. But the metaphor sticks.
When things aren't coming together, jamming the
pieces harder out of frustration never works.
And convincing yourself those leftover parts
weren't important does not make the structure
any more stable. Sometimes you have to stop,
step back, open the manual, look at the design,
to realign what you've built. That's what we're
doing this season. We're not throwing the whole
thing into the yard. We are stopping long enough
to look at the instructions again and be honest
about anything we may have assembled around our
assumptions instead of Christ's design. Jesus
is still building his church, and if you belong
to him, you are part of what he's building. Thank
you for joining me for this first cup of Pot
3. Over the coming cups, we're going to keep
examining the identity, leadership, life, mission,
growth, and multiplication of the church through
the lens of scripture. If this episode challenged
or encouraged you, share it with someone who
is willing to have honest and gracious conversations
about what the church is meant to be. You can
also follow Grace on the Grind on your preferred
podcast platform so you don't miss the next cup.
Until next time. Keep the coffee strong and your
faith stronger. And remember, there's grace in
the grind.