This past week was a whirlwind.

What started with some lethargy quickly blossomed into a boy burning up and a mad dash to the emergency room. As we waited for them to select our number, our sweet Benaiah began to lose consciousness and we saw a part of his eyes no parent ever wants to see. We quickly rushed to the desk and within ten seconds, four nurses and a doctor were giving oxygen and IV’s to our seizing boy. Travis held me as I watched our son twitch and turn, a desperate mother wondering if she was watching her son die before her eyes.

This is the second time his life has been spared in that emergency room, and we were reminded again of God’s sovereignty – which produced a desired result this time.

Yet we know many in our lives who, though held by that same sovereignty, are receiving news that shatters. A dear friend who just received word that her missing friend is likely dead. Another friend who never got to take her baby home from the hospital. Some of our nearest and dearest watching their family be ravaged by the darkness of sin.

Suffering is as real as it is lonely.

I didn’t have cell coverage in Ben’s room at the hospital, so as I emerged the next morning my phone began to explode with messages and prayers.

“Is Ben okay? We’re praying for him!”

“Can we bring dinner? What time can we drop it off?”

“Do you need us to watch him while you sleep?”

Weary and tired, I went to our base worship time Monday afternoon – where our entire staff prayed God’s protection over our family and others on staff who have been suffering. A friend of mine came up to me and in tears prayed over Ben’s life and for Travis and I.

As we worshiped I praised God for the church….a community of people that not only loves God, but loves each other.

Many of us try to live our lives in a way that avoids suffering at all costs – I confess I’m guilty of coveting this seamless life. Yet suffering is inevitable, it is simply part of living on a planet that is disordered – run amok by forces that enjoy destruction and pain.

I can’t imagine trying to face it all alone.

Before I surrendered my life to Jesus, I converted away from the church. The critics were loud and at the time there was so much to agree with. Close-minded, prideful, homophobic, selective. I was interested in the compassion of Jesus, but to me the church was just a place for good people to celebrate their goodness (and chastise the rest of us). I was open to faith, but it was to be more private. I believed in the emergent church, one built on forsaking what had come before it.

Yet as I began to study the Bible I realized that this simply was not how God designed the Kingdom of God to flourish. And that a lot of the failures of the church had been addressed in Scripture already – but the answer was never to abandon the church.

The first time I became a member of a church I was 25-years-old, and it was (and is) a transformative experience for me. Not only am I committed to a community, but I belong to a community that desires my growth and to see my needs met. I’ve seen dozens of people selflessly give of their time, finances, and wisdom to see Travis and I flourish in the gospel and in our ministry.

Many people have been hurt by a church or maybe some members of one – some have left. These hurts are real, but they should not be lifelong. Perhaps the news make it seem like churchgoers are the most unforgiving and unapologetic kinds of people – yet within the doors it’s harder to find. I don’t agree with everything that my pastor preaches, but that doesn’t mean I’m always right either. What’s more important is that I belong to a community of worshipers of God, choosing to embrace the suffering this world has promised and letting it draw us closer to the Redeemer.

The easiest job in the world is to be a critic – everyone can find something amiss or hypocritical. Some people can even make it funny! What’s harder is to press in to our hurts and be willing to be healed by forgiveness and hope. That’s brave stuff right there.

The church is God’s gift to His people – and to a lost and suffering world.

Maybe it’s time to darken the door of a church again. For the lonely, the hurting, the empty, the lethargic, the busy – you were made to belong to something bigger than yourself.