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There is a deep truth about the reality of community that we don’t often acknowledge: “Forming community is not just living close to one another. Prisoners do that. Rather, community demands personal sacrifice and personal transformation.”[1] It is not accidental. It does not happen simply because we are in the same room or share the same zip code. Forming community requires work on our part. It requires intentionality. It requires a willingness to be changed, a willingness to be transformed.

Over the past few weeks, we have been engaging in a worship series that calls us to invest in each other. We’ve talked about expanding the table, about sharing meals, about learning to know one another beyond the surface. And underneath all of that is this simple but radical claim: God calls us into community, not because it is easy, but because it is essential.

Here is the truth: true community is never about proximity. You can sit in a crowded restaurant and still feel utterly alone. You can live in a neighborhood where every car is familiar, yet not a single person is known by name. You can visit the same grocery store week after week, see the same cashier every time, and never move beyond the name on the tag. But Scripture calls us to something far deeper.

If we visit Acts 2, we will see that the early church “devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.” Fellowship here was not an optional add-on—it was the heartbeat of their life together. They shared their resources, ate in one another’s homes, and prayed for each other daily. In short, they became a family, not bound by birth, but through re-birth in Jesus Christ.

Family is more than belonging; it is becoming, growing into who we are through one another. Likewise, to be in community means one cannot stay exactly as they are. To be in community is to be stretched, sometimes challenged, and always invited to grow. In community we learn patience by living alongside people who test our patience. We learn grace by offering forgiveness, especially when it’s easier to walk away. We learn love not in theory but in practice, by investing our life in the lives of others.

And that is the heart of it: community shapes us into who God is calling us to be. Left to ourselves, our faith can wither. Together, our faith matures. Alone, joy is fleeting and burdens unbearable. But in community, joys are multiplied, burdens are lightened, and transformation is not only possible—it becomes real.

This is why I insist on community. Because without it, faith collapses into something private and fragile. And because with it, we discover God’s presence most vividly. Jesus promised, “For where two or three are gathered in my name, I’m there with them.” (Matt. 18:20, CEB). That means the very act of coming together—of listening, sharing, forgiving, and serving—is a holy space where Christ shows up.

So the question before us is not whether community is worth the effort—it is. The real question is whether we are willing to do the work: to slow down enough to notice each other, to set aside our pride long enough to forgive, to open our tables wide enough to include those who are different from us.

Because community does not just happen. It is built, nurtured, and protected. And when it is, the world sees a glimpse of the Kingdom of God—a family not defined by bloodline or background, but by grace.

That is why I insist on community. Because I believe God insists on it too.

Pastor Jefferson

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[1]  Charles E. Moore, “Introduction,”  Charles E. Moore ed. Called to Community: The Life Jesus Wants for His People (p. 9).