As a staff member at Providence, Sunday mornings are often equal parts exciting and exhausting. I spend a large portion of my week preparing for our worship services, and seeing the entire congregation gathered together always makes the effort worth it.

Between services, I often walk up and down the lobby to see who is around. Inevitably, there are children weaving through the crowd as they laugh and play together while their moms are catching up in the corner. A group of young couples may be in another part of the lobby, chatting about work, while a gathering of empty nesters do the same just 20 feet away.

But I’m not just looking around. At an early age, whenever I’d walk into a new environment, my dad would always remind me, “look for the loner.” On Sundays, I’m on the lookout for the loner—the widow sitting alone, the single guy who wandered into the massive crowd and doesn’t know where he is going, or the family that is trying to check in their screaming child for the first time. 

At my last job, I even set up “traps” for these people in the lobby and trained my volunteers to use them. My favorite was a sign with a map of the building that pointed out where to find important things like the worship center, the kids area, and the bathrooms. I told my volunteers that if someone is looking at the sign, they’ve likely never been here before. Go introduce yourself, show them around, and make them feel loved.

Through all the smiles, laughter, and conversations, these are the people that often go unnoticed. They feel invisible and in reality, they might remain unseen. On any given Sunday, they will pop in. They’re hoping for a connection and a place to belong. 

If there is ever a place where these people should find belonging, it should be in the church of Jesus Christ. And yet, some of the deepest forms of church hurt occur when it remains elusive. A newcomer sees the group of moms and wonders if they could ever have a place in that gathering. A grandparent sees all of the younger people walking by and wonders if those couples would ever actually want to be friends with them in their advanced age. A single person walks into a sea of married people with no one by their side and wonders if they could ever be accepted.

The Power of Uncommon Relationships

Christian community is often best exemplified by uncommon, intentional relationships. The Roman church struggled with this more than most as they sought deep and meaningful fellowship in an eclectic city.

In Romans 16, Paul ends his letter to them by including a long list of shoutouts. For 16 verses, he lists out one name after another. Without getting into the weeds, there’s one significant feature that runs through all of them. They had nothing in common with each other.

Rome itself was a melting pot. People from different cultures, all manner of social classes, and various economic backgrounds all poured into this one densely-populated region like it was a bathtub drain. Its society included dockworkers, slaves, freedmen, aristocrats, and powerful political influencers.

The Roman church consisted of five households, likely numbering no more than 40 people each. They spanned across the entire city. While many of the church members were impoverished, this wasn’t exclusively the case. When the church broke bread and worshiped together, there were Jews and Gentiles, slaves and citizens, rich and poor, powerful and powerless, and everyone in between, all side by side. 

In Paul’s shoutout, he doesn’t just speak to those with influence. He speaks to those who just earned their own freedom. He calls out Jews and Gentiles alike. He mentions singles and married couples, men and women, young and old. Imagine recognizing your name on this list next to someone rich enough to literally buy you! By mentioning all of them in one place, he is simultaneously elevating the overlooked loners, humbling the powerful, and highlighting their common bond.

The Roman church enjoyed the most unexpected and illogical relationships. They wouldn’t have been natural, much less comfortable. In a world where status and proximity to power was everything, there was little gain in developing friendships with those on the margins of society. But they did it anyway. Even more, Paul wanted to make sure that never changed. After giving all of the shoutouts, he warns them in verses 17-18, 

17 I appeal to you, brothers, to watch out for those who cause divisions and create obstacles contrary to the doctrine that you have been taught; avoid them. 18 For such persons do not serve our Lord Christ, but their own appetites, and by smooth talk and flattery they deceive the hearts of the naive.

The unity of the church was not just an ideal. It was exactly what Paul expected of a congregation ministering in the center of all political, economic, and social life in the Roman Empire. It was the characteristic that would have easily stood out the most to the watching world.

They may not have had much in common, but they did have one thing. They had devoted themselves to following the Son of God who stepped into our broken world to redeem it. He dined with the religious elites one day and prostitutes the next. He would touch the ones no one would touch and speak hard truths to those who felt they had the right to define truth. He was the only truly righteous man to ever live, and he hung on a cross while flanked by common criminals. The Roman church gatherings were a product of Jesus’ sacrifice, along with his example. 

A Call to the Hard Relational Work

True Christian community like this is hard work. It does not happen organically or come easily. And yet, relationships within Christian circles today differ very little from those outside them. When people join small groups, the most common request is for one where there are people in their same stage of life. In our flesh, we tend to avoid one of the very things that is meant to define our fellowship. 

Every now and then, it’s worth taking an inventory of your social circle. Do you enjoy rich fellowship with people of all ages and life stages, or is it only limited to those most like you? Do you intentionally build relationships with those who offer you nothing, or is your circle limited to only those who personally enrich you? If you’re married, when was the last time you invited a single person over to your home? If you’re younger, when was the last time you shared a meal with someone twice your age who isn’t related to you? When was the last time you noticed the loner in the lobby and intentionally walked toward them or invited them to sit with you?

Diversity in our fellowship is no more a lofty ideal than holiness is in our private lives. How does your rhythm and range of fellowship compare to that of the Savior we follow?