"Relational Capital"

Last week we talked about Spiritual Capital. We got all spiritual and serious and prayed the prayer Jesus told His disciples to pray. Has your alarm been going off at 10:02? Mine has: “Lord of the harvest, send workers, start with me.” 

We talked about how all of us bring "capital" to the table of our local church. Spiritual, relational, intellectual, physical, and financial. 

We talked about depending on the Holy Spirit and how the mission of the Church is not something we manufacture with clever strategies, slick branding, or a whiteboard full of ideas. The Spirit’s already moving. He’s working in people’s hearts—already preparing the harvest. Our job is just to show up and be ready wherever God sends us.

So, where does He send us? To stand on street corners with megaphones? To knock on doors like spiritual vacuum salesmen? To walk into coffee shops like a crazy person and announce, “Excuse me everyone, I’m here to talk about Jesus!”

No. God sends us into relationships. Relationships we have, relationships we need to cultivate. Which brings us to the second capital: Relational Capital.

And here’s the big idea for today: God grows His church through relationships. Christianity was never designed to be lived alone. Following Jesus doesn’t happen in isolation. God brings people into our lives, we build trust and friendship, and through those relationships the Gospel moves from one person to another. Relational Capital.

I know… the word “capital” makes it sound like we’re about to start a church growth TED Talk. But that’s not it. Relational capital is the trust and connection we have with people. It’s the relationships God gives us and expects us to nurture—invest in. 

And, yes, that does include the relationships you have with the people in your church.

We already understand how powerful this is. We’ve experienced it somewhere. Maybe at church, maybe at work, maybe at school—somewhere. There is a huge difference between showing up where nobody notices you and showing up where someone says, “Hey! I was just looking for you.”

Many years ago when Kim and I were church hopping, we visited a bunch of random churches, places where we didn’t know anyone. I remember walking into this one big church, and when you walk into a big ol’ church where you don’t know anyone, all of a sudden you’re back in middle school again. So awkward. You start wondering where you want to sit, whether you’re in someone else’s usual seat, whether everyone’s looking at you like, “New around these parts aren’t you?” 

But this time a woman in that church noticed us. She walked over and introduced herself. She asked us a few questions, then she introduced us to a couple other people nearby. She told us what she loved about her church—that she thinks we’ll love it, too. Then, after the service, as we were leaving, she said something that stuck. She said, “I’m going to look for you next week.” I don’t know why it didn’t sound a little creepy, or pushy, but it didn’t. It was awesome. Because all I heard was, “I see you and I like you.” And we did go back. We ended up becoming friends with her and her husband, and we even went to a couple of their crazy house parties. We also became members of the church. All that because someone noticed us and took a moment to connect.

It happens here at NewChurch, too. The first time Linda Stocum walked in, she didn’t know anyone—I think it can be even weirder to show up at a small church for the first time. You wonder if everyone is related. Kim and I have definitely walked into little churches and lost our nerve within a couple minutes and ran back to the car. Ha. But Carol Penhollow noticed her before she could run away and invited her to sit with her and Debbie and Bill. She said they introduced her to everyone like she was the queen of England. That little moment turned into something so much bigger. Now they look for each other every week. They check on each other when one of them isn’t here. They’ve become friends—family.

You ever had someone make you feel like that? Like you would be missed if you didn’t show up? Have you ever come to church partly because you knew someone would notice if you weren’t there? That’s relational capital. When that kind of connection exists, church stops feeling like an event and starts feeling like family.

There used to be a little church in the Heights called ChristChurch. Kemper was there. Ryan was there. Chris and Joanne were there. It’s where Kim and I and a bunch of people from the music scene went back in the day. It was a strange little group of creative, slightly odd artist types trying to follow Jesus together. We had Sunday school, then a very long worship service, and then every single week we would all go out to lunch together. Taco Cabana. General Joe’s. Always somewhere cheap, because none of us had any money—did I mention we were mostly artists? But none of us missed. If we were in town, we wouldn’t even think about missing church. Skipping church would have felt like skipping Thanksgiving dinner. It would have felt like skipping Christmas with your family. Church wasn’t just a service. It was where we met our people.

That kind of life together is exactly what we see in the early church. Listen to the description in Acts 2. And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. And awe came upon every soul, and many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. And all who believed were together and had all things in common. And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need. And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved.

Notice what the church looked like. It wasn’t just teaching. It wasn’t just worship. It was meals together. Shared life. The early church didn’t grow because they perfected a marketing strategy. It grew because people lived life together and invited others into that life—and God blessed it.

And that’s not an accident. The Gospel usually spreads through relationships. Most people come to faith because someone they know and trust shared the Gospel with them. A friend. A parent. A coworker. A neighbor. Someone they already have a relationship with.

The Gospel isn’t usually transmitted through strangers shouting on street corners. It moves through the relationships God places in our lives. But we have a problem… 

We’re living in one of the most isolated, lonely moments in history. We have more ways to communicate than any previous generation—phones, texts, email, social media, group chats, video game rooms—but people are lonelier than ever. The U.S. Surgeon General’s May 2023 Advisory, Our Epidemic of Loneliness and Isolation, explicitly declares loneliness and social isolation an “epidemic” and a public health crisis, comparable in health impact to smoking up to 15 cigarettes a day, obesity, or substance use disorders. It links social disconnection to higher risks of premature death, heart disease, stroke, dementia, depression, and billions in excess healthcare costs. The same report in 2025 says it’s only gotten worse.

People have fewer close friends, no one to call when things go bad, and it’s not good.

We live in a world where people are surrounded by noise but starving for real connection. We’ve got thousands of digital contacts and Facebook “friends” but very few real relationships. People scroll past hundreds of faces every day and still feel like no one truly knows them. 

And here we are, in the church, like dragons sleeping on our piles of gold.

That description we just read in Acts isn’t just interesting Bible history—it’s a picture of what the world needs. Because what the early church practiced is exactly what our culture is missing: people who know each other, care for each other, share meals, pray together, and actually live life side by side.

Paul describes the same thing in Romans 12. After explaining the mercy of God and the transformation that comes through Christ, he turns to the life of the church and says,

“Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor.”

Then he adds,

“Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality.” That’s relational capital.

Paul says our love should be genuine—literally “without hypocrisy.” Not fake. Not polite church smiles. Not “How are you doing, brother?” while slowly backing toward the exit. Real love. Honest love. 

And also... Genuine love doesn’t mean pretending everything is fine. Paul says, “Abhor what is evil.” Christians are called to hate what destroys people and hold on to what gives life. 

Then Paul says something really interesting, especially for the more competitive among us. He says: “Outdo one another in showing honor.” Show more honor than you receive.

That means you go first. Don’t wait to be loved. Don’t wait to be noticed. Don’t wait for someone to come up and talk to you.

You go first. The life of the church should be full of energy, warmth, and caring for each other.

Then Paul says, “Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality.” Which has to mean people who aren’t in your church yet. The word hospitality literally means love for strangers.

There’s another side to relational capital that we don’t always think about. Relational capital is also what gives you the credibility to speak into someone’s life. To challenge them. To correct them. To help them grow. Proverbs 27:6 says,

“Faithful are the wounds of a friend…”

Notice it doesn’t say faithful are the wounds of a stranger on the internet. Advice, correction, even hard truth — those things only land when they come from someone who has already earned trust. When someone knows you love them. When someone knows you’re for them.

A lot of times Christians get this backwards. We jump into people’s lives giving advice they never asked for. We start correcting people we barely know. Throwing Jesus at them like kung fu Hallmark greeting cards. Slapping them with platitudes like Job’s friends. We think, “Well, I’ve got truth on my side.” But truth without relationship almost always pushes people away. Away from you, away from Jesus. Proverbs 25:11 says,

“A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in a setting of silver.”

How you frame it matters. Timing matters. Relationship matters. If you don’t have the relational capital — if you haven’t earned trust, if you haven’t shown them you love them, if you haven’t built an actual friendship — probably the most loving thing you can do is keep your mouth shut and keep building the relationship before you drop your advice bomb.

In 2nd Samuel 12, when Nathan confronted King David about his sin, he didn’t storm into the palace screaming accusations. David had really messed up, he was way in the wrong. He had taken another man’s wife into his bed—and the man was a loyal friend. That’s about as bad as it gets. The only way it could be worse is if he killed his friend to cover it up—which he also did. So, Nathan, who was David’s spiritual advisor and prophet—he was in quite a situation. Confront the king and probably get executed, or look the other way and disobey God.

But Nathan was no fool. He told a story first. 

He said, “My king, let me run something by you.” You know Farmer Joe? The rich dude on the other side of town who’s got flocks and herds of sheep everywhere? 

David’s like, “Sure. Farmer Joe.”

And Nathan’s like, “And you know Ernie, right? Guy can’t get a break. All he’s got left is that little pet lamb he calls Skippy. Treats it like a child, eats at his table, drinks from his cup, sleeps in his bed.”

David’s listening....

Nathan goes on, says Farmer Joe had an unexpected visitor and needed to whip up a feast. He could have grabbed any one of his 400 livestock but that’s not what he did. He looks at David and asks, “Do you know what he did?” And David’s all into the story, “No, what did he do?”

“Well, Joe marches over to poor Earnie’s house, takes Skippy, slaughters her, and feeds her to his guest.

David loses his mind. He’s furious. He says, “That man deserves to die!”

I imagine Nathan taking a deep breath at that moment—because here’s the moment of truth.

He looks at David and says, “You’re the man.” Not in a good way, like “You da man!”

David gets it.
It’s about him.

He earned David’s attention. And because Nathan had the relationship and the credibility, David could actually hear the truth when it came.

Relational capital is the difference between truth that heals and truth that just starts a fight and pushes people away.

And that kind of relationship—where someone can actually tell you the truth and you’re able to hear it—that kind of relationship only happens when trust has been built. When life has been shared. When love has been proven over time.

In other words, it happens inside a community.

Which is exactly why Jesus didn’t save people and send them off to live private spiritual lives. He gathers people into a family. A body. A church.

When two or three Christians gather together, or two or three thousand, it’s called a church. A congregation. Christianity isn’t just something you believe privately in your head. It’s something you live out with other believers.

This is why the idea of “Lone Ranger Christianity” doesn’t work. There is a popular idea today that says it can just be “me and Jesus”—but that’s not the deal, that’s not enough. Just you, your Bible, your favorite podcast, and a quiet time with God. But the Bible never talks about being a Christian that way. You’re baptized into a body—the Body of Christ. And a body only works when its parts are connected. An independent, detached finger isn’t a brave spiritual accomplishment; it’s a medical emergency. Christianity is always meant to be lived in relationship with other believers.

But here’s where God’s commands are a little uncomfortable. Relational capital doesn’t just happen automatically. It requires being intentional. It requires noticing people. Feel free to gasp after this next one: It requires talking to people. (Go ahead.. Gasp!) It requires caring about people. 

And sometimes we think this church thing is all just about us. We get into a pattern where we show up, sit down, and sneak out as fast as possible. We like church, but we keep it at a safe distance—in its place. But if everyone did that, NewChurch would just be an audience, a room full of strangers—like a Weird Al concert with donuts. 

What Does Relational Capital Look Like? So what does it look like to bring relational capital to the table? It looks like learning people’s names. It looks like noticing someone new and putting yourself in their shoes. Don’t literally remove their shoes, no one would like that, but introduce yourself, tell them you think they’ll love it here. It looks like inviting someone to sit with you—maybe inviting yourself to sit with them. It looks like introducing them to someone else. It looks like inviting someone to lunch after church—like someone you’ve been going to church with for a long time but you’re like, “Hey, would you be up for lunch today? Or next week?” It looks like staying a few minutes after worship instead of rushing out the door. It looks like texting someone when you notice they weren’t there this week. It might even look like hosting something simple at your house—dinner, tacos, game night—nothing fancy, just time together. It looks like being part of a midweek Bible study and intentionally investing in people. It looks like planning on staying for HangTime and not making it about you. It’s work to build relational capital. But it’s worth it. Surgeon General says so.

This is all part of being the church—part of being a spiritual family. Kemper likes to say, “In spite of what you’ve been told, water is thicker than blood.” Talking about the water of baptism and our membership in the true family of God. 

All the things I’ve been talking about—love, hospitality, care for each other—it didn’t start with us.

It started with Christ. God loved us first.

This is a family we join because we heard the Gospel. But none of this is the Gospel. The Gospel isn’t “be nicer to people and have better relationships.” If that’s all you hear today, let me redirect your attention to something much more important. It’s still about relational capital but it’s not anything you do. The Gospel is that Jesus pursued a relationship with you. You didn’t climb your way up to God. You couldn’t do that any more than you could climb a sunbeam up to the sky. God came down to you. Jesus entered our world, walked among us, ate and drank with people, sat at tables, laughed and cried, told stories, and called all us misfits and sinners His friends. Then He went to the cross so we could be reconciled to God. Through His death and resurrection, through baptism and communion, through the forgiveness of sins, He has brought us into the family of God. He brought you into His family. 

You are not just forgiven. You are adopted. You are a beloved child of God. You have a right relationship with God. And because Jesus has made you part of His family, the church, it becomes the place where that family lives together. Relational capital isn’t a strategy. It’s just what family does. Family sees each other. Family checks on each other. Family shares meals. Family looks forward to seeing each other.

I don’t want you to ever stop thinking about this... Who might walk through those doors any given Sunday feeling exactly the way Kim and I felt that day, the way Linda felt that day, the way you’ve certainly felt walking into a strange church (and there aren’t many churches stranger than NewChurch)—walk in feeling uncertain, a little lost, wondering if they belong? And what if the difference between them feeling at home or wanting to run back to their car is something as simple as you saying, “Hey… come sit with me.”