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I love how I can unsubscribe from almost anything with one click.

At least in theory. Email lists, gym membership, notifications from CVS about the flu vaccination. Reminders about your car warranty expiring. Like I said, “in theory” because those guys don’t give up. I want to be able to cancel or unfollow anything with a single click. I want it to be frictionless.

Friction. less.

Because I don’t want to call customer service and get trapped in a hostage negotiation with a robot and hold music from hell. I want convenience. I want to know if something stops working for me, I can cancel it, and find a better option instantly. No friction.

But that also creates a problem. When we live in the unsubscribe world long enough, we start expecting everything to work that way.

Even family. Thanksgiving turkey was dry? Sides were uninspired? Unsubscribe!
Spouse comes home from work and starts talking about their day? Skip intro!
A friend asks you to take them to the airport? Where do I find the “cancel membership” button?

And if anyone starts rattling off opinions that are too blue or too red… or they’ve got a different understanding of some pet theological idea… or cheer for the wrong sportsball team… Oh man! Cancel notifications! Run away!

It’s always been that way to some degree but our ideas about relationships are getting a lot more weird. We expect the real world to be as personally customizable as the digital world.

Have you seen those AI virtual companion apps? No one talks about it but they’re really taking off. It’s where a lot of people go to have their deepest conversations. Welcome to the future! This is not a Black Mirror episode, this is right now Katy, Texas. People can create characters that look however they want, on their phone, talk to them in video chats—they remember everything about you, they tell you exactly what you want to hear. They don’t interrupt, don't have moods. Always happy to see you. Do you know what the word sycophant means? AI companions are total sycophants… absolute suck-ups. It feels so good but it’s not real. 

If we think social media was an experiment that went horribly wrong, wait ‘til we see what this does to humanity. 

You might be thinking, “Nah, no one does that. It’s not a real problem.”

According to Pew Research, Tech Crunch, Psychology Today, pretty much anyone who’s paying attention… 1 out of 5 teens say they spend more time with AI companions than real friends—and prefer them to actual people. Sounds crazy, right? It’s going to be a massive societal problem.

I get the attraction. People are messy. Real people disappoint you. They don’t text back. There’s always so much drama, so much friction.

Why deal with the hassle of people when an app on my phone is so much easier?

Well, because it isn’t real. 

It imitates attention. Imitates affection. But it can’t be human. It can know facts about you but it can’t know you. It can’t love you. And it can’t teach you anything about what it means to love someone else—because love is always sacrifice. 

Anyway, the more we get used to customizable, always-on-demand virtual friends, the less patience we’ll have for real people. Because people come with baggage. They come with opinions. They don’t always respond the way we want them to. They’re going to see the world a little differently than we do—but they still belong to Jesus just the same.

So, we can’t treat people the way we treat technology: useful when they serve us, disposable when they don't. All of this goes the same for the communities of people we belong to.

We tend to really treat our communities as disposable and optional. 

A lot of people still attend church. They show up. Sit down. Sing some songs. Listen to a sermon and leave. But belonging? Membership? Commitment? Actually being part of the people? Letting ourselves be known? Becoming part of the family? Mmm. That’s harder. That’s going to have some friction. It’s going to require some patience. Vulnerability. That would mean putting down roots instead of always having one foot out the door looking for a better option.

We’ve all been trained to think like consumers. Looking for the best return on our investment. Shopping for the best experience. What’s in it for me? We treat our church like we’re looking for a new series to watch on Netflix. Like searching Amazon for the best rated soap dispenser. 

And I get it. I’ve done the same thing. Show up on Sunday morning, sitting in a room with a bunch of randos, maybe the music is a little rough that day. The person next to you is talking too much, or has some breath war going on, or can’t sit still. Then the preacher says something weird. Or you look around and half the people look like they didn’t really plan on being in public today—did I just wander into a “before” photo? Then the preacher says something weird again.

You start imagining the perfect church…the church unicorn. It doesn’t really exist but that doesn’t stop us from looking for it.

We’re so used to perfectly curated digital experiences that real life tends to be disappointing.

Too much friction.

But what if friction isn’t a bug? What if it’s a feature?

What if awkwardness, inconvenience, annoyance, unmet expectations, and even being around people who have different opinions than we do—what if these aren’t signs that something is broken, but signs that it’s actually real?

Like family. Families aren't made up of people who all think the same, vote the same, talk the same, all the same age, and have the same opinions about everything. Family is going to drive us nuts sometimes. Our families have people who irritate us. People who need grace. If our standard for belonging somewhere is everybody has to be just like us—then we’re not looking for family. Or a church. We’re looking for a mirror.

But the church is a family. A wonderful, weird, messed up family. And Jesus gave His life to create it.

In Matthew 16 Jesus said that He will build his church, and even the gates of hell won’t stand against it. He didn’t say, “I will build a loose network of spiritual consumers who occasionally pop in for some inspiration.” He says he will build his church. His people. His congregation.

His kingdom.

Made up of real people. Gathered in Jesus’ name. Baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. People who are forgiven. Who stand under his Word. Who come to His table. People who are on mission together.

Hebrews 10 tells us not to neglect meeting together, but to keep gathering as the church so we can stir each other up to love and do good works and encourage each other to be faithful. In other words, showing up matters. Gathering matters. Encouraging each other matters. Following Jesus was never meant to be a solo project.

In Ephesians 5:27, Paul’s writing to the church in Ephesus, a major city in the Roman world, a place filled with unbelievers, power-hungry men, everyone trying to make a buck, a ton of spiritual confusion, and all kinds of pressures on the church to conform to the culture all around. You know… kind of like the world we live in. So, Paul writes this church he planted a letter and tells them to remember who they are in Christ, and how that is supposed to change the way they live, and how they treat each other.

In chapter 5, Paul’s talking about marriage, but it’s more than just marriage advice….

“Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ. For wives, this means submit to your husbands as to the Lord. For a husband is the head of his wife as Christ is the head of the church. He is the Savior of his body, the church. As the church submits to Christ, so wives should submit to your husbands in everything. For husbands, this means love your wives, just as Christ loved the church. He gave up his life for her to make her holy and clean, washed by the cleansing of God’s word. He did this to present her to himself as a glorious church without a spot or wrinkle or any other blemish. Instead, she will be holy and without fault. In the same way, husbands ought to love their wives as they love their own bodies. For a man who loves his wife actually shows love for himself. No one hates his own body but feeds and cares for it, just as Christ cares for the church. And we are members of his body. As the Scriptures say, ‘A man leaves his father and mother and is joined to his wife, and the two are united into one.’ This is a great mystery, but it is an illustration of the way Christ and the church are one.” Ephesians 5:21-32

Now, if this was a sermon on marriage, there’d be all kinds of interesting things to talk about. But right after we read that whole thing about “submit to your husband, love your wife, washed by God’s word, united into one”—Paul gives us an Inception-level twist ending… What he’s actually talking about is how Christ and the church are one. So then we have to go back and read it again with that understanding.

So, as the church, we submit to each other. We don’t try to get our own way. We’re here to serve the people here with us because we follow Christ, we’re part of His body, and He’s the head.

It’s His church. We submit to each other because we primarily submit to Him.

We put all our thoughts, all our opinions, we put them under Him, under His word. That’s hard to do. We’re stubborn. But, we’re His body, His hands and feet… how would you like it if your hands and feet didn’t do what you wanted? That wouldn’t be good. We’d probably go see a doctor.

Christ loved the church and gave Himself up for her. This is the center of everything. 

He gave Himself up to cleanse the church, wash the church, sanctify her….

Jesus didn’t go looking for a polished bride. He didn’t go shopping around until he found the church with the best branding, the highest Yelp reviews, the friendliest greeters, and the least awkward looking people in the lobby.

No, He loved His sinful bride. He gave himself for an inconsistent bride. He committed himself to a church that would fail him, misunderstand him, embarrass him, run from him, cheat on Him, and need to be cleansed and sanctified and shaped over and over until the end of time.

Jesus didn’t go church shopping on Bumble or Hinge. I don’t think any church “as is” would get swiped right. We’re all fixer-uppers.

The church has always been a construction zone. Noisy and dusty and inconvenient. It’s always been filled with people who are works in progress. People with baggage. Sin. Blind spots. People who talk too much. People who don’t get it—lack self awareness. Who will disappoint us. It’s always been full of people who need grace. People like you and me.

And Jesus doesn’t walk away from us. He stays.

Even when we bail. Over preferences. Over inconvenience. Over awkwardness. Over unmet expectations. Unsubscribe! Cancel membership. We’re like,  “As long as I like it, as long as I’m feeling it, as long as the vibe is right, I’m in. But the second the experience dips, I’m out.”

And it’s not just that we’re picky or finicky. We just think more like consumers than family members.

But if that’s the main grid we use, we’ll never belong anywhere. We’ll float. We’ll always be evaluating and judging and never actually contribute to anything.

We don’t become family with people we’re constantly rating.

We don’t find a church home if we constantly treat the church like a product review.

It’s like what my old preacher friend used to say, “If you ever find the perfect church, don’t join it. You’ll ruin it.”

Because we’ll bring all our junk and mess the whole thing up. Fortunately, for all of us, there are no perfect churches. We all bring our sin. We all bring our weirdness. 

I think it’s ridiculous to go around with a clipboard, rating sanctuaries and coffee stations until Jesus comes back… No. Find a church that believes in Jesus, gathers around His word and sacraments, preaches law and Gospel and put your clipboard away. Roll up your sleeves, get to work loving the people God puts in front of you.

But don’t get me wrong, there are some bad churches. So I’m not saying someone should stay in abuse, or manipulation. Don’t ignore corruption, or false teaching. If something is spiritually abusive or dangerous—run for your life. But that’s not usually why people leave churches.

I’m just talking about the consumer reflex. The way we tend to bail when things get inconvenient, awkward, or we feel less catered-to than we wanted. We think something will be more shiny a few minutes down the street.

We can all fall into the “what’s in it for me” trap. 

I’m not trying to give anyone a guilt trip.

You know God loves you, right? Came into the world to give His life for you and prove it.

And He didn’t do that because you were easy. So attractive.

He doesn’t stay with you because you’re convenient. Because you’re impressive. He didn’t run the numbers to see if you were going to be a wise investment. He didn’t say, “I will subscribe to you as long as you keep up the good work.”

Thanks be to God.

He loves us when we’re inconsistent. When we’re inconvenient. When we’re sinful, selfish, flaky, messy—can’t get our act together. He loves us when our hearts are cold. He loves us when we don’t trust Him the way we should.

He doesn’t opt out. Even when we do. The cross is the ultimate opt in.

He moved toward you while you were still in your sin. He laid down his life for you while you were still unworthy. He looks at you, His messy bride, His messy child, and says, “You are Mine.”

And what do we do with that?

In John 13 Jesus said that we’re to love each other the same way He loved us. Love that’s not convenient. Love that’s not like, “I’ll stay in this relationship as long as it stays easy.” The love Jesus is talking about is sacrificial. It’s patient. It puts up with difficult people. It keeps going. It forgives. It follows through. It shows up.  It serves.

Biblical love is love the way Christ loves us. His love for you is not based on your performance. It’s not based on how easy you are to love. It’s all grace. He just gives it to you.

And once we know that, once that gets into our thick skulls, once we realize Jesus doesn’t treat us like a disposable inconvenience, it changes the way we see the people around us.

Since Jesus sticks with you, let that kind of love shape how you love.

That kind of love looks like showing up when it would be easier not to. It looks like staying in the room when things are awkward and you want to run away. It looks like refusing to bail over preferences. It looks like loving the strange people God has put in your weird church.

Because the places where our faith actually grows are not going to be where there’s no friction. We grow when we have to forgive. …when we have to be patient. …when we have to put up with people. We grow when we have to confess our own sin, apologize to the people we sin against, and then get past it—which means we keep showing up anyway.

Without friction, there’s no traction. Without resistance, there’s no growth.
Friction in our church family isn’t a bug, it’s a feature.

This is the first Sunday after Easter. The church was packed last week, it was fun. 121 people. We’ve said we want to grow to 140 by our next birthday in February. That’s why I’m talking about this today.

First, I want to gather us together as a church family. I don’t want to lose anyone over stupid reasons. No Irish goodbyes. No leaving the church looking for some unicorn, or because someone hurt your feelings. Come on. 

Second, we need to be in on this together. Pulling our weight. Hand to the plow. Remember the Five Capitals? We all need what we all bring to the table.

Third, this is our church family. You need to be part of the life of your church family. What does that look like? It looks like showing up on Sunday, we need to be able to count on you. It looks like being involved in a midweek discipleship group. We all need to know each other, love each other, and learn God’s word together. And when we have a special event, something we’re doing to try and reach the community… we need you to be part of it. 

And let me challenge you to do something… (Oh man, what’s this going to be?)

I want to challenge you to show up an hour earlier on Sunday for Sunday School.

I know. That doesn’t sound epic. We went from the cosmic love of Christ and the mystery of the church as bride all the way down to, “Set your alarm and come to Sunday school.” 

That’s so ordinary. Why would I do that?

When I say, “Love each other better,” everybody nods, maybe feels inspired for five minutes, and then we go home and don’t change anything. It’s too big, too abstract.

But if I say, “Let’s show up an hour earlier. So we can learn. Talk about life. Meet people. Let people get to know us,” then it’s too small, a little too real. But it’s a doable next step.

But the problem is if all we do is come to the worship service, where we can slip in and slip out —we can remain anonymous forever. We’re not treating it like family. More like a movie theatre without popcorn.

But coming to Sunday School will mess that up in the best possible way.

Because strangers will become friends. We’ll learn each other’s names. We’ll hear each other’s stories. We’ll realize the people we thought were weird have been carrying pain we didn’t know anything about. And grace becomes a lot more possible.

And best of all… we start to feel like we actually belong.

We need to fight the temptation to isolate ourselves—to not get involved. To run away when something gets uncomfortable. To avoid friction at all costs.

We need to be deliberate about loving people. About showing them grace when they bug us.

Because one day, we’ll be the one who needs grace. The one who isn’t easy to love.

I mean, what do we want—to be part of a church built on shallow connections and superficial vibes? Or to belong to a family of friends and followers of Jesus we can count on?

So that’s the challenge. To actually be part of your church.

Stay. Stay after worship when the rest of us do. Show up an hour earlier for Sunday School. Join us in the mission. Consider membership if you aren’t a member. 

Not because our church is perfect. It isn’t.
Not because the vibe is always so cool. It’s not.
Not because every person here is always easy to love. They’re not. You’re not. I’m not.

But in a world where we can unsubscribe from almost anything with one click… Let’s not.
Not from each other. AMEN

Prayer

Lord Jesus,
Thank You for loving us when we were hard to love, for not walking away, for staying with us all the way to the cross. Forgive us for the ways we treat people like they’re disposable, for the ways we hold back, drift away, or put ourselves first. Shape us into a people who love like You love—patient, faithful, and willing to stay. Plant us deeply in this church family, and use us to encourage, serve, and build one another up.

In Your name, Amen.