We Exist to Cultivate Relationships
What I Learned About Isolation
I knew what the word isolation meant. I could have given you a definition for it. But I never really understood it until Covid.
I am an extrovert's extrovert. If you're an introvert, I want you to understand that those months were not a vacation for me. I didn't discover sourdough. I didn't learn an instrument. What I did was drive. I drove around the county endlessly in my jeep with the top off and my dog in the passenger seat, just to pass the time. My dog was a great listener. She was not much of a conversationalist though.
And it wore on me in a way I didn't expect. It wasn't just the extroverts. Eventually even the introverts among us started to miss the company of their friends. There is a point where being alone stops feeling like rest and starts feeling like something else entirely.
The second of our three mission statements deals with this very thing. We exist to cultivate relationships. Nobody grows alone. We believe the Christian life was never meant to be lived in isolation, so we invest in real, honest relationships with God and with one another, because that is the soil where faith actually develops.
Last week we said the first thing that is true about us is that we exist to plant truth. And Jesus told us that seed lands in soil. So this week we are talking about the soil itself.
The Man Nobody Notices
Ecclesiastes 4:7-8: "I observed yet another example of something meaningless under the sun. This is the case of a man who is all alone, without a child or a brother, yet who works hard to gain as much wealth as he can. But then he asks himself, 'Who am I working for? Why am I giving up so much pleasure now?' It is all so meaningless and depressing."
Picture this man. He's good at what he does. He works more than anyone you know. He's got money in the bank, a truck that's paid for, and a house that's quiet when he gets home. Nobody would look at him and say anything's wrong. If you asked him how he's doing, he'd tell you he's fine.
He's just never once stopped to ask who he's doing it all for.
That word "meaningless" is the Hebrew word hevel. It means vapor. Mist. Your breath on a cold morning. It's not saying life is worthless. It's saying life is impossible to get your hands around.
Here is why I love this passage. The Bible does not pretend this isn't real. It doesn't clean it up. It doesn't tell the lonely man to cheer up and count his blessings. It sits there with him.
Ecclesiastes 4:9-10: "Two people are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed. If one person falls, the other can reach out and help. But someone who falls alone is in real trouble."
Most of us have heard verse 9 before. It usually shows up at a wedding, read by a nervous nephew in a suit that doesn't fit. Nobody ever reads you verse 8 first.
Verse 9 isn't a greeting card. Verse 9 is an answer. It's the answer to the question verse 8 just asked. Who am I doing this for? And the author says, you were not built to carry this by yourself.
God's Answer
God's answer to isolation was not a feeling. It wasn't a program either. God's answer to isolation was a people.
Turn with me to Acts chapter 2. This is the day of Pentecost. About seven weeks before this, Jesus had been executed by the Roman government just outside Jerusalem. Three days after that, His followers said He came back from the dead.
So Peter stands up. Peter is worth knowing. About seven weeks before this, when it got dangerous, he stood by a fire and told people three separate times that he had never met Jesus. That is the guy who stands up to preach. Because the community that is about to be born out of this sermon is going to be built out of people who failed and got a place anyway. And it starts with the preacher.
By the time he sits down, three thousand people have been baptized.
Now picture the problem that creates. Three thousand brand new believers. No building. No budget. No staff. No programs. What in the world do you do next?
They Devoted Themselves
Acts 2:42: "All the believers devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching, and to fellowship, and to sharing in meals (including the Lord's Supper), and to prayer."
The word behind "devoted" is a strong word. It means to persist. To hold on stubbornly. They were devoted because at times it was hard, and they did it anyway.
Four things. The apostles' teaching. Truth from people who were actually there. The fellowship. In Greek that's the word koinonia, and we have ruined that word. In our world, "fellowship" means coffee and a folding table in the back of the room. That is not what it meant. Koinonia meant shared ownership of a common life. It's a partnership word. You can be friendly with someone for twenty years and never once be invested in something together. The breaking of bread. Both the sacred meal and the ordinary one. The prayers. Together. Out loud. On purpose.
It Cost Them Something
Acts 2:44-45: "And all the believers met together in one place and shared everything they had. They sold their property and possessions and shared the money with those in need."
Before anybody in here files that under politics, it wasn't. Nobody was required to do it. It happened because these people knew each other well enough to know who was short that week. That is what happens to your wallet when somebody's need has a face on it.
We are not asking you to sell your house. But we are asking whether anybody in this room knows you well enough to know if you needed help, and whether you know others well enough to be able to offer help when they need it.
Public and Private
Acts 2:46: "They worshiped together at the Temple each day, met in homes for the Lord's Supper, and shared their meals with great joy and generosity."
There are two places in that sentence, not one. The Temple. That's public. And house to house. That's small. That's ordinary. It is not one instead of the other. It's both. They did not gather on the weekend and then go be Christians privately the rest of the week.
I love that these people were days old in the faith and already in each other's houses. They didn't have it figured out. So hear me, especially if you're new to all of this. You do not have to understand everything to belong here.
But I want to say something to the rest of us too. Some of us have been here so long that we've stopped noticing the difference. We know every name in this room. We know whose grandkids are whose. And it is entirely possible to know every name in a room and not be known by anybody in it.
Familiar is not the same as known.
Then God Did Something
Acts 2:47: "All the while praising God and enjoying the goodwill of all the people. And each day the Lord added to their fellowship those who were being saved."
Notice the order. They're praising God. Then they have the goodwill of the people around them. And then, after all of that, the Lord adds to their number. Outsiders liked them before outsiders joined them. People in that city looked at this group and thought, whatever that is, it's good.
But here's the part I really want you to catch. Look at the subject of that last sentence. Who's doing the adding? It isn't the apostles. It isn't the church. The Lord added. And the way it's written in Greek, it's not a one time event. He kept on doing it.
They weren't running a growth strategy. They didn't have one. They didn't have a plan, a budget, or a logo. They were just so obviously alive that God kept putting people into it.
We are not trying to build something impressive here. We're trying to be the kind of soil where God is willing to plant people.
Not Just Nice, Known
Hebrews 10:24-25: "Let us think of ways to motivate one another to acts of love and good works. And let us not neglect our meeting together, as some people do, but encourage one another."
Sit with that phrasing. "Let us think of ways to motivate one another." That's not a passing thought. And it is definitely not "hey, how are you?" in the hallway. You cannot think of ways to motivate somebody you don't know. You'd have no idea what moves them.
Hebrews isn't telling us to be nice to each other. It's telling us to know one another well enough to know what would actually move that person toward love and good works. And you cannot do that from across a room.
One Question
I'm not asking you to trust a system this morning. I'm asking you to consider a question.
If you stopped coming, how long before somebody noticed?
Are you invested with anybody who would notice you're not here? Have you allowed other people into your world like that? Have you given anybody permission to speak truth into your life?
I am a history nerd, and one of my favorite people to study is Genghis Khan. When he and his brothers were boys, their mother handed one of them a single arrow and told him to break it. Easy. Then she bundled several arrows together and challenged them to break it the same way. No matter how hard they tried, none of them could.
Her point was simple. Alone, each of them was fragile. But bound together, they became nearly unbreakable.
That's true of a family. It's true of an army. And it is true of a church.
One Meal
Here's my challenge for you this week. Invite one person to your table. Not to church. To your kitchen.
Acts 2 happened in houses before it happened anywhere else. Those three thousand people did not get to know each other in a service. They got to know each other over supper, passing food, with the dishes still in the sink.
One person. One meal.
Every single one of those three thousand people walked into Pentecost an outsider and walked out belonging. Not because they had their lives together. Not because they'd cleaned themselves up first. Because Jesus made a place for them.
God didn't answer isolation with a program. He answered it with a people. A room full of ordinary, unimpressive, brand new believers who ate together and told each other the truth and shared what they had.
And the Lord kept adding.
You were never meant to grow alone.
Small Group Questions
ICE BREAKER QUESTIONS
Pastor Nate shared how COVID isolation hit him hard as "an extrovert's extrovert." How did those months of isolation affect you? What did you learn about yourself, or about how much (or little) you actually needed people?
Think about someone in your life who really knows you, not just knows about you. How did that relationship get to that depth? What did it require from both of you?
Pastor Nate introduced our second mission statement: "We exist to cultivate relationships. Nobody grows alone. We believe the Christian life was never meant to be lived in isolation, so we invest in real, honest relationships with God and with one another, because that is the soil where faith actually develops." What stands out to you about this mission? How does it connect to last week's mission ("We exist to plant truth")? Why is soil as important as seed?
Ecclesiastes 4:8 describes a man who is successful by every measure but works alone with no one to share it with, asking "Who am I working for?" Pastor Nate said: "The Bible does not pretend this isn't real. It doesn't clean it up. It doesn't tell the lonely man to cheer up and count his blessings. It sits there with him." Why is it significant that Scripture doesn't rush past loneliness? Where in your own life have you asked some version of "who am I doing this for?"
Pastor Nate explained the word "meaningless" (hevel) as "vapor, mist, your breath on a cold morning." The man in Ecclesiastes 4 could see happiness but couldn't grab it. When have you felt like you could see what a good life should look like but couldn't quite get your hands on it? What was slipping through your fingers?
Ecclesiastes 4:9 ("Two are better than one") is often read at weddings, but Pastor Nate said: "Nobody ever reads you verse 8 first." Verse 9 is the answer to verse 8's question. How does reading these verses together (rather than isolating verse 9 as a wedding sentiment) change the meaning? What is God actually saying to the isolated person here?
Pastor Nate said: "God's answer to isolation was not a feeling. It wasn't a program either. God's answer to isolation was a people." Why is a people the only real answer to isolation? Why do feelings (like feeling connected) and programs (like church events) fail to actually address loneliness? What has to happen beyond both of these?
Peter, who denied Jesus three times, is the one who stood up to preach the first sermon at Pentecost. Pastor Nate said: "The community that is about to be born out of this sermon is going to be built out of people who failed and got a place anyway. And it starts with the preacher." How does this shape the kind of community God is calling us to be? Who in your life have you written off as unlikely material for God's community that God might not have written off?
Acts 2:42 says the early believers "devoted themselves" to four practices: apostles' teaching, fellowship (koinonia), breaking of bread, and prayer. Pastor Nate said we've "ruined" the word fellowship, making it mean "coffee and a folding table," when it actually means "shared ownership of a common life." "You can be friendly with someone for twenty years and never once be invested in something together." Are your church relationships mostly friendly or actually invested? What would it look like to move from friendly to invested with someone this year?
Pastor Nate observed that Acts 2:46 shows two locations: "The Temple. That's public... And then house to house. That's small. That's ordinary. That's daily." He said: "The public thing fed the private thing and the private thing fed the public thing." Are you currently participating in both? What's missing, the public gathering or the private, home-based, invested relationships? What step could you take this week toward the missing piece?
Pastor Nate said something convicting: "Some of us have been here so long that we've stopped noticing the difference... It is entirely possible to know every name in a room and not be known by anybody in it. Familiar is not the same as known." Be honest, are you more familiar with people at this church or actually known by them? What's the difference in practice? What would need to change for you to move from familiar to known?
Pastor Nate asked the question that hangs over this whole sermon: "If you stopped coming, how long before somebody noticed?" Sit with that. What's your honest answer? Whose absence would YOU notice? Who is currently in your life at a depth where your absence would be noticed within a week?
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