What’s the Worth of Showing Up?
The fullness of Christian fellowship can only be had when we gather in the flesh.
Welcome to “Elbow Room,” a Perishable Goods column where our writers share how they’re trying to practice embodied living—because living with the grain of reality requires intentionality. Read our last piece here.
Almost every Thursday evening at approximately 6:43 p.m., I find myself in a self-inflicted dilemma. After four full weekdays of mothering two littles, keeping up the house, cooking, running errands, visiting or hosting friends, and lesson planning, Thursday night dinner is finally on the table and I’m ready to hit the sack. The only problem is that my women’s Bible study starts in seventeen minutes and I need to be in the car in ten. The thought floats through my mind… should I go? Or should I Zoom?
This is a silly question. My church is a mere seven-minute drive down a country road. My husband is almost always there to stay at home with the kids. Nothing is preventing me from attending the Bible study in person except the existence of the Zoom option. But while this technology is a blessing to the elderly ladies at my church who have trouble driving in the dark, or the ladies who live much farther from church, or who need to stay at home with sleeping kids, for me, it’s a temptation to be lazy.
Many faithful Protestants have written on the problems with church livestreams and the necessity of gathering in person, and I will not reiterate all the arguments here. I will, however, offer a quote from pastor Tony Payne, whose article, “Technology Cannot Replace Presence: Why the Church Will Always Gather,” beautifully articulates the reason why physical presence matters for a church body:
… the value and experience of sitting side by side, listening to a preacher, is qualitatively different from reading a printed sermon or watching one on YouTube — not only because we pick up different aspects (in the voice and gesture and physical presence of the speaker), but because we are in a different place and posture as listeners. We are sitting with each other under God’s word, listening together to the teaching and encouragement that his word brings us. Your presence next to me is part of my listening.
Likewise, when we sing, we sing not only to God for his glory and praise, but to one another for mutual encouragement and teaching (Ephesians 5:21–22; Colossians 3:15–16). We can sing joyfully to Christ anywhere, but only in the gathering can we sing to one another, making melody in our hearts to the Lord as we do so.
The same is true when we talk together and encourage one another around the word. When we are physically together, we not only enjoy a richer engagement with each other, but we have more opportunities to see and hear what’s going on with the people around us. We can sense when someone is troubled or joyful or heartbroken or disengaged or lonely or just new to our gathering and hoping to meet someone. We can proactively love each other, and speak the words that spur one another on to love and good deeds.
It’s easy to downplay the role of the body in activities we typically characterize as “mental” or “spiritual”: listening to sermons, reading Scripture, or praying. Why should a screen get in the way of these things? As Payne observes, the way in which we go about these activities actually shapes our understanding and internalization of them. Listening to sermons, reading Scripture, and praying all take on a different weight when we do them in the presence of other believers. Our love for God, our hope in His promises, and our faith in His character tends to grow when we see it reflected in the space and in the bodies around us.
Like all technology, Zoom exists for the accommodation of human limitation. When my husband is out of town and I need to stay home with the kids, or when I’m sick, the option to join the Bible study via video call is a blessing. To the elderly ladies who live further from church and don’t want to drive in the dark, Zoom is likewise a gift. It meets real needs and fosters connection for women who otherwise might be isolated on a Thursday night.
The problem arises when we think that the technology that mimics the real thing can replace the real thing. When I have decided to Zoom into Bible study, both the study and the fellowship have proven less fruitful. It’s easy to let my mind wander when all that’s holding me accountable is a screen. I don’t read as deeply, and I don’t participate in the conversation as readily. Being physically absent from the other women, my attention turns back on myself—my appearance reflecting back at me from the screen, my to-do list, my fatigue, my anxieties and frustrations—and I grow mentally distant.
I need the physical presence of these women to draw me out of myself, into God’s word, and into love. As Payne puts it, “[their] presence next to me is a part of my listening.” My affections for the Lord are stirred when I get to witness a sister’s face light up with joy as she uncovers some truth in Scripture. My love for these women is kindled by the lingering conversation after the study ends, and by the gift of receiving spontaneous prayer from a friend while we put on our coats, having shared the struggles of the day. The hugs, the smiles: these are a part of the study. These are the things I actually need on a Thursday night.
The fullness of Christian fellowship requires us to gather in the flesh. As we await the embodied communion of all the saints when Christ returns, we ought to seize the opportunities we have to gather together as a body, in our bodies. Sometimes I need my husband to remind me of this and push me out the door… and sometimes I pull into the church parking lot twenty minutes late. But showing up in person always ends up being worth it.
Hi,
Nice post. Zoom technology has highlighted the importance of physical presence across many domains of human activity.
I'm interested in the painting by Shelby Mcquilkin at the top of your post. Would you be able to tell me how you got permission to publish that painting? I would like to feature it on a book cover. Thanks.