Kids shouldn’t be funeral experts. However, my boys recently became professionals at this solemn business, attending three services over the course of four months. Like a series of arrows moving closer to a target, each loss landed in increasing proximity, culminating with the death of their grandfather. The morning after his funeral, one of my sons climbed into bed with me while I was reading my Bible.

“It was a really big deal that all those people from church showed up,” he said.

“It really was,” I told him.

I recalled the rows of pews filled with our elders, pastors, and friends who spent the better part of a Thursday driving winding Arkansas roads to my in-laws’ church. They took off work to attend the funeral of a man most of them had never met, just to be with us as we grieved. After so many dark days, a candle flickered in my son’s mind. It wasn’t the cards, gifts, or flowers that he remembered—it was the simple fact that they were there. As we sat together in the quiet, a phrase from the Apostles’ Creed echoed through my mind: I believe in the communion of saints.

Why Gathering With Other Believers Is a Joyful Rebellion

In “A Liturgy for Feasting with Friends” from Douglas McKelvey’s Every Moment Holy, the celebrant opens with this assertion:

“To gather joyfully is indeed a serious affair, for feasting and all enjoyments gratefully taken are, at their heart, acts of war.”

The guests respond: “In celebrating this feast we declare that evil and death, suffering and loss, sorrow and tears, will not have the final word.”¹

Scripture often depicts the community of believers as a group of friends sitting around a table. Whether we find ourselves in a season of feasting or hunger, laughter or sorrow, the words of this modern-day liturgy hold true. The physical gathering of Christ followers is a joyful rebellion against a culture that thrives on antipathy. People are endlessly connected yet plagued by loneliness. While the digital world might offer some sense of connectedness, true and tangible relationships set us apart. But even as the weapons of discord become more advanced, the battle is nothing new, and our counterattack remains the same. The communion of saints combats strife by welcoming the lost to our table and turning their attention to the Founder of the Feast.

How Our Father Delights When His Children Live in Unity

When the Hebrew people made their way up to Jerusalem for annual festivals and feasts, one of their Songs of Ascents began with the exclamation, “Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity!” (Psalm 133:1, ESV). For those of us who are parents, we gladly offer our amen to this. We delight in those blessed moments when all our children are getting along. We dream of a day when they return home as adults, staying up late laughing together, recalling memories only siblings can. Surely the Father must feel the same way about His own children.

And yet, after the Fall, the bond between brothers quickly shattered. Cain let bitterness and envy lead him down a path of murder. With blood-stained hands, he brazenly asked the Lord, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” (Genesis 4:9, ESV). The answer was, and still is, yes. We are called to shield one another from sin and despair. When we do the hard work of dwelling together in unity, we join the saints in a song of ascent and form a mighty resistance against Cain’s brutal legacy. And our Father watches His children in delight, for we are indeed each other’s keepers.

Why Jesus Gave Us a New Command to Love One Another

After His own ascent to Jerusalem, Jesus began His final Passover feast by washing the disciples’ feet. As He bent down with a basin and towel, He knew which pair of feet belonged to the man who would join His enemies and betray Him with a poisonous kiss. Judas followed in Cain’s murderous footsteps, leveraging his relationship with the Messiah for silver coins. As John recalled the moment his fellow disciple left Christ’s table, he ended it with the ominous phrase, “and it was night” (John 13:30).

Foreseeing the darkness ahead, Jesus offered His disciples a new command. In a world of torches and bloodthirsty mobs, they were to be marked by their love for one another. It was the same love He had shown them just moments before—washing the feet of those who would flee from Him, offering bread to one who would betray Him and wine to another who would deny Him. It was the love He embodied through His physical presence at their table—the Word made flesh, dwelling among them.

We live in an unforgiving time. The world demands we pick tribes and tells us to dissolve friendships over minor disagreements. But Jesus Christ welcomed both the tax collector and the zealot to His table. When He commanded us to love one another, He did not guarantee uniformity of thought or personality. Instead, He promised us a Helper, knowing only the Holy Spirit can bind a patchwork group of people together in love. In a society that feeds on outrage, a Spirit-drenched church body marked by humility and affection speaks louder than any battle cry.

We believe that sin fractured our relationship with both God and man. We believe Jesus Christ came in the flesh, offering His broken body and spilled blood to pay our ransom. We believe He died and rose and will come again to dwell with us. We believe our gatherings here are a foretaste of a coming feast, a signpost for the marriage supper of the Lamb. And we believe that in the meantime, our burdens are made lighter and joys sweeter when shared among the fellowship of believers.

Come what may, we believe in the communion of saints.

As relationships around us become increasingly disembodied, may our physical presence in each other’s lives be a defining mark of our heavenly citizenship. When the lost and lonely approach our doors, may they find us enjoying one another and hear us beckoning them to come join the feast. May they know we are Christians by our love.²

My son was right, after all. It really is a big deal when the church shows up.

If you liked this article, check out the related resources linked below!

Notes:

1. Douglas Kaine McKelvey, Every Moment Holy, Volume I: New Liturgies for Daily Life, pocket ed. (Rabbit Room Press, 2017), “A Liturgy for Feasting with Friends.”

2. Peter Scholtes, “They’ll Know We Are Christians by Our Love,” 1966.

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Author Bio

Tracy Cooney lives in Conway, Arkansas, with her husband and three boys. She loves writing for her local church, reading a good book, and watching birds.

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