The Sacred Art of Skipping Church

I love church.

I also love waffles.

And naps.

And the kind of quiet you only find when you're halfway down a trail, and a squirrel decides you’re the problem with society because you just stepped on the acorn it had dibs on.

Some Sundays, Love shows up as a potluck.
Other Sundays, it looks like a thermos and a trailhead
And now and then? It looks like a second cup of coffee on your front porch while a cardinal sings its little heart out from the dogwood tree.

There’s a reason Jesus kept showing up at tables, shorelines, gardens.
Not pulpits.
Not platforms.
Just everyday places. Full of bread, water, and people trying their best to love.

So if you’ve ever skipped church to go hiking, to rest, to garden, to share a slow morning with someone you love –
I hope you didn’t feel one ounce of guilt.

Because grace doesn’t care how often you show up to the building.
And it sure doesn’t check attendance like it’s homeroom.

God Doesn’t Take Attendance

Somewhere along the way, we turned church into a weekly gold-star chart.

Like Love had a clipboard and was walking the aisles going,
“Smith, here. Johnson, here. Thompson, Thompson?… tsk tsk.”

Better have a doctor’s note. Or a guilt complex.

But the Jesus I follow? He skipped plenty of rituals.
He broke sabbath rules to heal people.
He taught from hillsides.
He wandered off alone when he needed rest.

He knew:
It was never about the ritual.
It was about the relationship.

Not the pew – the people.
Not the building – the belonging.

So if church is where you remember who you are and whose you are?
Beautiful. Truly. I’m all in for that.

But if your soul gets fed by birdsong, by trail dust, by porch swings, or quiet mornings with someone who gets you…
That counts too.
That’s communion.
That’s connection.

That’s church – in the deepest, truest sense of the word.

Rest Is Resistance (and So Is Joy)

Let’s not pretend the church has a monopoly on sacred space.

Sometimes, church smells like pine needles.
Sometimes, it sounds like laughter echoing through a kitchen.
Sometimes, it feels like the breeze off the ocean.
Sometimes, it tastes like pancakes and mimosa pulp.

Rest isn’t laziness.
It’s resistance in a culture that treats burnout like a badge of honor.
It’s a holy “no thank you” to systems that say your worth is tied to your output.

So yes –
Sleep in.
Watch the sunrise.
Call your mama.
Eat brunch with people who make you laugh until you snort.
Take a long walk with your thoughts or your dog or your playlist.

Skip church and be human.

If that sounds secular to you…
You might want to reread the part where Jesus kicked off his ministry by bringing wine to a party.

Faith Isn’t a Roll Call. It’s a Rhythm.

Church isn’t the only place the Spirit shows up.

She’ll meet you on the trail.
She’ll hum through the open car window while you’re driving to visit an old friend.
She’ll rise up in the quiet of your living room when you finally breathe after a long week.

You can miss church and still live your faith.
You can skip a hymn and still sing grace with your life.
You can stay in your sweatpants and still practice resurrection.

If church reminds you of that? Fantastic.

But if your altar this week is a campfire, a kitchen table, or a long phone call with someone who really gets you?

That’s church too.
And it’s just as worthy.
And just as fantastic.

To All the Ones Who Stayed Home (or Went Somewhere Sacred)

To the ones curled up on the couch with a dog who thinks you hung the moon…
To the ones walking wooded trails, breathing in the sermon of creation…
To the ones swapping stories over brunch, laughing like it's the best liturgy in town…
To the ones who needed a day to catch your breath… or cry… or just be quiet…
To the ones too tired, too tender, too full of questions to go through the motions…
To the caregivers, the overworked, the doubters, the wanderers, the burnt-out, the brunch-slingers, and the hammock-loungers…

You’re not failing.
You’re not falling away.
You’re not broken.

You’re human.

And that, my friend, is sacred.

And If You Need a Church That Gets It…

Let me tell you about mine.

We meet in a living room.
We gather in a room with a coffee table.
No fog machines. No jumbotrons. No dress codes.

Just a handful of folks trying to follow the Way of Love.

Our Music Director? She plays whatever helps the message land –
Sometimes it’s a hymn.
Sometimes it’s Tracy Chapman.
Sometimes it’s silence and deep breath and maybe a tear or two.

And yes – people skip.
To hike.
To rest.
To be with family.
To be with themselves.
And we don’t shame it.
We bless it.

Because the point of church has never been getting people into the building.
It’s always been about getting Love out into the world.

So go be the church.
And if that means skipping church?

So. Be. It.