Church Is Supposed to Be Weird

Lean into it

As you go through your week and pass from home to work to the grocery store to a restaurant to the dentist’s office to a baseball game and eventually end up gathered with the saints on Sunday, one of those things should not be like the others.

Church is supposed to be weird.

(To be clear, in this piece I’m using “church” colloquially and as Paul did in 1 Corinthians 14:35, referring to the corporate assembling of the saints. Our gatherings should feel, in a manner of speaking, “weird.”)

Yet so much of modern churchianity is focused on making church as accessible as can be. We want people—visitors and members alike—to step in and out with as little discomfort or change or possible. In other words, we try really hard to make church not be weird.

Let’s talk about why church should be weird before getting into some ideas which might give it that feel.

The Why

First, it’s biblical

Reverence and awe should govern our interaction with God (Hebrews 12:28), and awe was what the Acts 2 church felt as they came together as one (2:43). Moses had to remove his sandals as he approached holy ground (Exodus 3:5) and Israel had to cleanse themselves before drawing near to Mt. Sinai (Ex: 19:10-17). When we come together to worship God, we’re doing something incredibly special.

This is why it’s so strange that seeker-sensitive Christianity has gone all-in on removing the otherworldly feel of the church’s assembly. Yes, Jesus as our perfect High Priest has allowed us to come before the throne confidently, but that doesn’t mean we should do it casually.

If we’re looking for Biblical guidance on this issue, there is a preponderance of evidence for the need for reverence. There is precious little pointing to the case for “At the Movies” sermon series or preachers in costume or any of the general goofiness that so often slips in.

Secondly, it just makes sense.

Everyday life is not incredibly special, it’s just that—everyday. Ordinary. Reverence and awe are rarely a part of our day-in, day-out activities. So when we step into an event which is not of this world, coming together as the heavenly temple, it Biblically follows that it should feel downright strange compared to what we do the rest of the week.

When a resident of your average American city steps into, say, a traditional Japanese home, it’s not surprising to taste different foods, hear a different language, and be expected to observe different customs. That which is different should feel different.

I think we in the churches of Christ understand this at least on some level when it comes to a capella singing. The union of voices, without accompaniment, just sounds separate from what you find almost everywhere else. Even those who don’t agree with us on instruments typically agree about the beauty of our vocal worship. It just feels different.

The How

There’s not any specific practice we can bind, but I think it would be interesting to explore the downstream effects we might experience by making shifts like these. I’ll suggest a few here, and if you have any to share via comment or message, please do.

Closed communion

If you’re not familiar with the concept, it’s the practice of the Lord’s Supper only being distributed to those in good standing with the church. The visitor does not get to partake, unless they are confirmed to be faithful members of another congregation. The prodigal member who only attends once every 10 weeks also does not get to partake.

1 Corinthians 11:28-32 strongly implies a Christian may experience acute physical consequences as discipline from the Lord if we don’t take rightly. If we actually took that seriously, we would not haphazardly hand the bread and the cup to whomever wants it.

If that sounds mystical, maybe that’s because it is. We’re dealing with the spiritual realm here. It’s—wait for it—weird. We don’t have to believe in transubstantiation to realize the Lord’s Supper is not just crackers and juice and should not be treated as such.

To further understand God’s character on this matter, notice the Passover was denied to any foreigner unless they were circumcised and became as natives of the land (Ex. 12:48). As usual, OT principles aren’t binding, but they show us how God feels about the rituals He gives His people.

“So much would have to change to implement this,” one might say. Yep. The purpose of this practice would be to show people the seriousness of what we do and how honoring Christ matters more than honoring anyone’s feelings.

I’m not under any illusion this is going to be taken up anytime soon in any of our congregations, but I at least want to start the conversation.

Psalm singing

This one is pretty straightforward. Whether by classical chanting or by setting the Psalms to familiar tunes as some have undertaken, the church should sing the Psalms word-for-word.

Songs train our minds and hearts as much as our teaching does. While our hymnals have many good songs, they can’t match the breadth and theological richness of the Psalms. In them we read of grief and victory, love and hatred, joy and sorrow, faithfulness and repentance, the whole gamut of human emotion. They brilliantly balance a focus on God and a focus on man. And, the Psalms were the hymnal of Jesus and the early church.

The emotion some churches seem to be lacking and others seem to be desperately chasing would not be a problem if we sang the Psalms, as they cover the entire range. And our understanding of God, good, evil, and the world would grow exponentially. (For more on this one, check out the related Who Let the Dogma Out? episode.)

A culture of nicer dress

I’ve already made the case for this one in what was the ideological predecessor to this article, so I’ll spare the argumentation here.

Laying on of hands

The New Testament church did it yet, in a lot of cases, we just don’t. In my experience with half a dozen congregations in three different regions I’ve seen it a small handful of times.

Why shouldn’t we have a hands-on prayer for our missionaries, elders, new ministers, pregnant couples, departing students, those undergoing surgery/treatment, etc.? While we’re going off the beaten path, let’s throw anointing with oil (James 5:14) in there as well.

I’m the farthest thing from a touchy-feely type. Generally speaking, I don’t want somebody’s arm around me. (Notice I’m not going so far as to call for a return of the “holy kiss” here.) But maybe there’s a reason we see the practice in Scripture. Maybe a lonely, disconnected world could end at the doors of the church if we practiced these kinds of things with each other, even if it feels awkward at first.

These are just a few. As I said, I don’t expect anybody to rush to take them up. But I think it’s a conversation we need to start having about how we can make our assemblies feel as though we’ve gathered at the foot of Sinai or ascended Zion. Let’s make church weird again.