I don’t know about you, but almost every week I see two or three posts on Facebook—that’s really the only social media platform I use—from people looking for the “perfect church.”
And they almost always come with a list.
They want a church with a great children’s ministry, the right kind of music, the right kind of preaching, the right age group, the right atmosphere, the right building, the right programs, the right people, and, of course, the right theology.
Usually, I find myself chuckling a little.
Not because wanting a healthy church is wrong. Not because doctrine, community, or ministry to children doesn’t matter. Those things matter a great deal.
What makes me smile is how quickly the search for a church can become a search for a product.
The lists can become so detailed, so preference-driven, and sometimes so superficial that I’m not sure people even realize what they’re asking for.
Years ago, when I was pastoring in a small town in Virginia, a family moved into our area after living in Houston, Texas, for most of their adult lives. They had attended one of the huge megachurches there.
I remember the husband asking me about our church.
Did we have an on-site restaurant?
No.
A gym with childcare?
No.
A theater?
No.
Coffee shop?
No.
A school?
No.
And the list went on.
Earlier in my career, while working with a marketing company, I had visited one of those massive church campuses, so I knew exactly what he had in mind. It wasn’t really a church building as most of us would picture one. It was more like a small city built around a sanctuary.
I finally laughed and said something like, “Sir, there are more people attending that church than live in our entire town. Unfortunately, you’re not going to find that here in the valley.”
What struck me most, though, was that he never really asked me anything spiritual.
He didn’t ask what we believed.
He didn’t ask how we followed Jesus.
He didn’t ask how people cared for one another.
He didn’t ask about prayer, discipleship, community, the Kingdom of God, or how the church actually lived as the Body of Christ.
He wanted amenities.
In some ways, he wasn’t looking for a church.
He was looking for a small city that happened to call itself one.
That memory came back to me recently as I read yet another “looking for a church” post on Facebook.
So I decided to write my own checklist.
It’s satire, of course.
But satire usually works because there’s just enough truth hiding underneath it to make us uncomfortable.
Here is my completely reasonable, totally non-picky, absolutely spiritual list of requirements for finding the perfect church:
The Perfect Church Checklist
We just moved to town, and we’re looking for a new church home for my family. Open to suggestions, but please read the requirements carefully because we are looking for the perfect fit.
We’d like a newer building with all the modern conveniences, but it really needs that old-time cathedral feel. You know—beautiful, historic, sacred-looking… just without all the history, maintenance, uncomfortable pews, or anything too Catholic-looking.
It needs to be family-friendly, but not too friendly, if you know what I mean. We want people to welcome us, but please don’t expect us to actually talk to anyone for too long.
The preacher must preach the Bible exactly the way I understand it. Straight from the Word of Gawd. No compromise, but make sure you use the right translation that I prefer.
Of course, he or she- no, make it a he- should probably leave out the parts I disagree with, the parts that make me uncomfortable, and especially those parts that are just way too difficult to actually live out.
We are looking for a church that is completely nonjudgmental.
However, I reserve the right to judge the church, the preacher, the worship team, the music, the clothes people wear, the children’s ministry, the coffee, the sanctuary temperature, and the overall spiritual condition of everyone attending.
Speaking of children, there must be an amazing children’s ministry. But please—NO children’s plays. Have you seen those things?
Painful.
The worship team needs to be professional quality. No organ. Not too many guitars. Definitely no smoke machines-it affects my asthma.
The worship leader should be young, cool, current, fashionable, extremely talented, deeply spiritual, completely humble, and preferably so simple and unassuming that nobody notices how talented, fashionable, and cool he is.
A lute and lyre would be a nice touch on occasion.
The preacher needs fire in his belly. But no shouting. No getting overly excited. Nothing emotional. He should challenge me, but never offend me. Convict me, but never make me uncomfortable.
Teach deep theology, but keep the sermon short — 20 minutes is good. Be provocative, but not controversial. Instructional, but never condemning.
He should be extremely educated—seminary, doctorate, maybe several degrees—but absolutely no letters after his name because we don’t believe in titles.
We want a diverse church that welcomes absolutely everyone…provided they generally look like us, think like us, vote like us, dress like us, raise their children like us, worship like us, interpret Scripture like us, and preferably sit in approximately the same section of the sanctuary every Sunday.
We’re also hoping for a church that really believes in community. Just don’t ask us to join a small group. Or serve. Or come on Wednesday night. Or help with anything.
Sunday morning between about 10:30 and 11:45 would be ideal. Parking should be close. Coffee should be excellent. Dress should be casual, but respectful. Not too casual. And definitely not too respectful.
Anyway, we’re open to suggestions. But please keep your opinions to yourself.
We’re just prayerfully searching for the church God wants us to attend… assuming, of course, He picks the one we already have in mind
When God Doesn’t Check Your Boxes
I wrote a blog post many years ago about “church shopping.” My point then was that we often look for what pleases us—the music, the atmosphere, the people, the programs, the style—rather than asking whether God may have prepared something entirely different for us.
After college, when I took my first job, I started looking for a church I would like.
I remember visiting one church and absolutely hating it. I didn’t fit in. No one seemed particularly interested in having me there. No one was especially friendly. There was nothing about it that made me think, “Yes, this is the place.”
And yet, I felt very clearly that God was telling me, This is where you are supposed to be.
So, being the obedient twenty-something that I was, I did the obvious thing.
I kept looking.
Months went by, and eventually I found a church I thought I would really enjoy. They had a very talented musician leading the musical part of worship, and since I was a musician myself at the time, that appealed to me. This felt much more like what I was looking for.
But apparently God had other plans.
It wasn’t long before I found myself leaving that building week after week with the nagging feeling that something was missing. Finally, God reminded me of something very simple: He had already told me where to go. I just didn’t want to go there.
Eventually, I relented.
And as strange as it seems looking back, that church—the one I didn’t like, the one where I didn’t feel like I fit, the one I had tried to avoid—became the place where God began a journey of questions that would continue for the next thirty years and eventually bring me to where I am today.
I wonder sometimes how different my life might have been if I had found the “perfect church” instead.
We all want to belong. We all want to feel comfortable. We all want to be somewhere we like, with people we like, doing things in ways we like.
There is nothing inherently wrong with that. But maybe comfort isn’t always the point.
Maybe fitting in isn’t always the point.
Maybe finding a church that checks all our boxes isn’t even the question we should be asking.
Maybe God wants to stretch us.
Maybe He wants to put us somewhere we would never choose for ourselves.
Maybe He wants us around people who are different from us.
Maybe He wants to dismantle some of our expectations.
And perhaps, for some of us, what He is leading us into may not even look like the traditional Sunday morning sermon-and-service model we have always assumed was necessary.
Maybe the bigger question is not, “Where will I be happiest?”
Maybe it is simply: “Holy Spirit, where are You leading me?”
And then comes the difficult part.
Being willing to go.
