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<h5 style="padding-left: 390px;">Photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/007bond/">[jRa7]</a></h5>
<strong>Jason and I go to church pretty much every Sunday. Sometimes I wonder why we do.</strong>

I'm not saying it feels like a waste of time—that deep down I'm wishing I was home, instead, with a muffin and The New York Times (although that sounds pretty nice, too). I'm wondering what particular aspect of church motivates us to go.

Is it out of habit? We both grew up going to church regularly, so maybe that's just what we do on Sunday mornings.

It could simply be that we're social, and we like the idea of a weekly gathering of a variety of people, coming together to think, sing, support each other and drink coffee.

What I really wonder, though, (and am sometimes afraid to honestly ask myself) is this: <strong>Do we go because we can clearly see that we're growing and changing, living with more grace and forgiveness and becoming "better people?" Is there any evidence of that?</strong> Or maybe we don't really see the growth and change in any tangible way, but we sense that it might be there, gradually building in us, so we go to church based on that <em>hope</em>.

Ultimately, I'm sure we go to church for a variety of the reasons I mentioned, plus some I haven't thought of. But somehow I still end up wondering, from time to time, <strong>what's the point?</strong>
<h4>Doing justice is one really good answer</h4>
To be truthful, I haven't <em>always</em> gone to church. In 2005, after leaving one that made me question the whole idea of church, I floated for several months, wondering what was next. When I finally decided to visit the fellowship I'm a part of now, I was drawn to their commitment to what we call "mercy and justice issues" in the community and world.

I'm sure it was attractive to me, in part, because I had grown up in a justice-oriented family and church. But there was something else, too. <strong>In a subconscious way, I felt like I could be safe with a group of people focused on brokenness—the imperfections of the world and its people. </strong>And having a mission like this helps church "make sense" to me. It's a big piece of the "why we bother coming together" puzzle.

Sure, you can point out that you don't have to believe in God or that Jesus is the son of God to gather together and help people. And that's true, but that's not my point. I don't go to church because it's a base for doing mercy and justice. I go because I believe in God, and I believe gathering as a fellowship is an integral part of living out that belief. The question I'm left with is this: <strong>What do we do with that belief and with each other once we've gathered together? How do we make it real in the world?</strong>
<h4>Helping people and welcoming people</h4>
I'm beginning to catch glimpses at my church of why we should bother gathering. Recently we began hosting a weekday soup kitchen in our building, which has been feeding over 100 people a day. More and more of the people who frequent the soup kitchen have also started joining us for worship on Sunday morning, sitting here and there among us, mostly in the back, but still heartily singing the songs and leaning forward to focus on the teachings.

I need to pause here and be clear that I'm not always thrilled with my church—I always love it, but I don't always like it, if you know what I mean. We do a lot of things right, but we fall short in many ways and nothing is perfect, not even our mercy and justice efforts.

This past Sunday, though, I'm pretty sure I caught a glimpse of some heaven-on-earth.<strong> After the service there was a fellowship potluck—not to feed "hungry people," but to be a family together. I looked around our fellowship hall and saw all kinds of people with all kinds of needs (including me, and my own needs), sitting and eating together. </strong>

<em>That's</em> when the soup kitchen goes that extra step and becomes real—not just when we're willing to "help" those who need help, but also when we're willing to invite them to share our space and spend time with them. And that's an example of when church becomes real, too. That's one answer to the question "Why do we bother?"