When Presence Is the Point



I took this photo in a lobby, one of those aesthetically pleasing places that makes you feel grounded. The words caught me off guard.

Without community there would be suffering.

Not less joy.
Not more loneliness.
But suffering.

It stopped me because it names something we often try to explain away. We like to imagine ourselves as strong, self-sufficient, resilient. We tell ourselves we should be able to manage on our own. But the truth is more tender than that. Humans were never designed to carry life alone. Isolation does not just make life harder. It hurts us.

Community is the web that holds us when our own strength gives out. It is the people who notice when we go quiet. The ones who bring soup or send a text at exactly the wrong-right moment. It is the friend who sits with us in grief without trying to fix it. The neighbour who shovels the walk. The therapist who offers language when our own has disappeared.

And then there is church, when it is at its best.

Church community has not always looked like this. There was a time when belonging was more automatic, when Sunday worship shaped the week and church calendars structured social life. That world has changed, and in many ways that change is honest and necessary. We now name harm that was done. We listen for voices that were ignored. We let go of the idea that everyone must fit the same mold.

What remains, and what still matters, is not obligation or certainty. It is presence.

Church today is not meant to be a place where we pretend we are fine. It is meant to be a place where we practice showing up for one another. Where casseroles and prayers still matter. Where rides are offered, children are welcomed, stories are believed, and no one is required to have it all figured out. It is a place where faith is wrestled with rather than handed down fully formed.

I keep coming back to the quiet question this small sign asks.

Who is your community?

Who helps hold your life together when it feels like too much?
Who makes the load lighter?
Who reminds you that you matter when you forget?

Without community, suffering multiplies.
With community, even imperfect and still-learning community, hope has somewhere to land.

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