Introducing Robert and Yetunde

Let me introduce you to Robert and Yetunde. Sadly, they’re not real people—but they represent a great many people I’ve spoken with over the years.

For this bumper edition of The Loop (July & August), I’ve used Robert and Yetunde to voice some of the most common questions, concerns, and objections around the idea of church membership. What follows will take the form of an email conversation between them and me. If that sounds unusual, it really isn’t—this kind of dialogue is something I’m almost constantly engaged in. So, in many ways, this is simply an invitation into my world, a glimpse behind the scenes to show that I don’t just work on Sunday!

Robert

Robert is someone who calls a spade a spade. He wouldn’t describe himself as a big reader, but he does care deeply that whatever we do as a church is genuinely biblical. His go-to phrase is: “Show me that in the Bible, and I’ll be happy.”

When it comes to church membership, though, he’s struggling to see the point. He’s not antagonistic—he just doesn’t get it. So, he sends me a short email:

Dear Adam,
I heard on Sunday about the membership course that’s coming up. I’ll be honest, I haven’t signed up because I just don’t get membership. In fact, if you asked me where membership is in the Bible, I’d probably say, “I don’t think it is”. Am I missing something?
I’ve copied Yetunde into this email—we were talking on Sunday, and she has her own questions. Both of us could do with some help.

Thanks, Robert

Yetunde

Yetunde, on the other hand, brings a very different perspective. She was once part of a church where membership was emphasised heavily—something she threw herself into wholeheartedly. But, over time, that experience became oppressive and controlling. Even now, years later, the subject still unsettles her.

So, when church membership was mentioned recently, it stirred up a lot for her. After chatting with Robert, she also reached out:

Dear Adam,
Your notice about the upcoming membership course really wobbled me. You may not know this, but the subject is incredibly painful for me. Honestly, whenever I start to think about it, I tell myself, “Not now—deal with it another time”.
But as you were speaking, I felt like I couldn’t put it off any longer. I need some help.
When I hear the words “church membership”, what I actually hear (feel) is pain and misery. So when you speak about it with such excitement, it leaves me feeling confused—how can something that caused me so much hurt be something you’re so positive about?
After the service I spoke with Robert, and he suggested I write to you. I’ve copied him in, as I know he’s also a bit confused. Can you help?

Thanks, Yetunde

Over the coming articles (emails), I’ll be responding to Robert and Yetunde—taking their questions seriously, addressing their concerns honestly, and, I hope, helping us all think more clearly and biblically about what church membership is (and isn’t).

My prayer is that, wherever you find yourself—more like Robert, more like Yetunde, or somewhere in between—you’ll find something here that helps.

Email 1

Dear Robert and Yetunde,

Thank you both for your emails. I hope you don’t mind me responding to you together. Since you’ve copied one another in, it feels right to address this collectively—especially because, although Robert’s concerns are more informational and Yetunde’s are more shaped by past pain, the two can’t really be separated. How we think about something is always deeply intertwined with how we’ve experienced it.

So, let me begin with the heart of Robert’s question: is church membership a biblical idea?

The short answer is yes.

The apostle Paul, writing to a defined church community, says:

“For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ” (1 Corinthians 12:12).

Take note of that phrase: members of the body. Paul clearly has no difficulty thinking in terms of an interconnected, interdependent people—far more than mere consumers—when he speaks about the church. If the word membership feels unhelpful, you might instead think in terms of being deeply committed or covenantally-shaped (I realise that second phrase is a little technical—we can revisit it another time!).

That said, we shouldn’t build a whole theology on a single word. Scripture doesn’t just define ideas—it paints in word pictures. So, the real question becomes: does the Bible, as a whole, present the church as more than a loose association? Does it show us something woven together, committed, belonging to one another?

Again, I think the answer is a clear: yes.

Let me give you a brief overview (I don’t want to overwhelm you!).

We need to begin in Acts 2 and ask: what did God do on that great and glorious day—the day the promised Spirit was poured out? What was the purpose?

Put simply: God formed a people.

A devoted, Spirit-filled, deeply committed people—the church. Or to put it another way, why did the Spirit come? To form churches that live deeply intertwined lives—what the Bible elsewhere (e.g. Romans 12) describes in terms of belonging to one another.

Now pause and really look at Acts 2:42–47 (make sure you read the text).

This extraordinary move of God didn’t produce a casual or half-hearted people. It didn’t create something informal or “loose”. It created a people who were devoted. That word carries the sense of steadfast, ongoing commitment. This isn’t the language of a fun-runner; it’s the language of an ultramarathoner. It’s not the 3-piece children’s puzzle—it’s the 5000-piece one that is spread across the dining room table. This is enduring, resilient, costly commitment.

John Piper puts it like this:

“The church is not a gathering of people who just happen to meet—it is a people devoted to God, His Word, and one another.”

And we see that devotion expressed in a wonderfully rounded way:

• Devoted to the apostles’ teaching — lives anchored in Scripture
• Devoted to fellowship — not a social club, but a shared life, more like family than friendship
• Devoted to the breaking of bread — letting the cross shape not just beliefs, but relationships
• Devoted to prayer — a lived dependence on God

This is what church looked like: intentional, time-consuming, sacrificial, joy-filled, God-centred—and, remarkably, growing daily.

If we’re honest, it’s both compelling and intimidating. We should feel that tension and think, “This is beyond me”.

Because it is!

This isn’t a lifestyle we can manufacture—it’s one that requires the enabling power of the Holy Spirit. This is His work.

What’s striking is that throughout the rest of Acts, wherever the gospel goes, this pattern follows. Believers don’t simply run programmes or promote personalities—they form devoted communities characterised by intentional, committed belonging. What we might call meaningful membership.

And that belonging is visible and definable. In Acts 2:41, 2:47 and 5:14, people are “added to” the church. That only makes sense if there’s something real to be added into—a recognisable community. The numbers are counted because the people are important.

It goes further. In Acts 6, widows are being overlooked—a concern that only arises if the church knows who it is responsible for. Next, Deacons are appointed from among them. In Acts 20, elders are told to shepherd the flock—but that only works if the flock is identifiable.

Even difficult passages, like church discipline in Matthew 18, assume this kind of defined belonging. You can’t meaningfully be “put outside” unless there was a real sense of being “inside”.

The body language of 1 Corinthians 12, and all the “one another” commands (there are loads and loads!)—love, serve, honour, carry burdens—only make sense within a specific, accountable community.

So don’t miss this: when the Spirit came, the result wasn’t a loose affiliation. It was a visible, defined, committed people. And wherever the gospel spread, that same pattern followed.

That is what the Bible, in its simplest terms, calls membership.

I’m aware that I’ve already written far more than I intended for a single email! So let me pause here.

In my next email, I’d love to pick up more directly on Yetunde’s experience—because it really matters not just that we understand membership biblically, but how we understand and practise it in a way that reflects the heart of Christ.

More coming shortly.

The Peace of Our Lord,
Adam

 

Email 2

Dear Robert and Yetunde,

Thanks for your emails. I’m so glad that my first email was helpful to you both. Yet, as promised, I wanted to try and speak into Yetunde’s concerns because as I see them at the moment, these are really the result of when something good has been taken and used to do harm. I don’t want to rush past what you shared, because it really matters. What you’ve experienced isn’t small, and it makes complete sense that even hearing the words “church membership” stirs up unease, confusion, and even pain.

Before anything else, let me say this clearly: I’m so sorry that what should have been a place of care, safety, and growth became something controlling and oppressive for you. That is not what Christ intends for His church. When something designed for good becomes a source of hurt, it can leave deep marks—and the Lord sees that. He is not indifferent to it.

At the same time, I gently want to place something alongside that truth—something I hope will become a source of encouragement over time. One of the remarkable things we see in Scripture is that God is able to take even painful, distorted experiences and use them for good. As Joseph says in Genesis 50:20, “You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good”. That doesn’t make the wrong okay, but it does mean the wrong doesn’t get the final word.

So, part of your story now isn’t just about what happened to you—but about what God might yet do through it.

And I think that connects to where you are now.

Because at the moment, it sounds like the phrase “church membership” has become tangled up entirely with pain in your mind. That’s completely understandable—but it also means that something which, in God’s design, is meant to be life-giving now feels unsafe and confusing.

Which raises an important step forward: gently untangling what church membership truly is from what you’ve experienced it to be.

Those two things are not the same.

What you encountered was a version of church life where something good had, in practice, been misused or distorted. And sadly, that happens. Wherever there are people, there is the potential for sin to twist what God intended for blessing. But the distortion isn’t the design.

In Scripture, the picture we’re given is very different.

The church is described as a body (1 Corinthians 12), where each part is needed, valued, and cared for. It’s described as a family (Ephesians 2:19), where we belong—not under harsh control, but under the loving fatherhood of God. Leaders are called not to dominate, but to shepherd (1 Peter 5:2–3)—to care, protect, and serve, “not lording it over those entrusted to you”.

At its heart, church membership—if we use that phrase—is simply about belonging to one another in Christ in a real, committed, and gospel-shaped (i.e. cross-shaped) way.

Now, I appreciate that hearing that and feeling that are two very different things. And it may take time for your heart to catch up with what your mind can begin to see. That’s okay. There’s no rush, and there’s grace for that journey.

But I do want to gently encourage you with this: if the enemy can keep you associating church with pain, one of the risks is that you may find yourself staying on the edge—present, but guarded; involved, but not fully able to receive or give.

And I don’t believe that’s what the Lord wants for you.

Because the same God who sees your wounds also invites you into a people where you are not on the margins, but known, loved, and built up. Hebrews 10:24–25 speaks of this kind of life: “Let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works… encouraging one another.” That kind of encouragement requires more than proximity—it requires connection.

So perhaps the next step isn’t, “How do I immediately feel okay about membership?”

Instead, it might be:

• Can I begin to re-explore what God says His church is meant to be?
• Can I allow Him, gently and over time, to reshape how I think and feel about belonging?

And importantly:

• Can I take small steps toward community, rather than sitting at a distance because of the past?

You don’t have to resolve everything at once. But I would love to walk with you as you begin to separate the painful experience you’ve had from the beautiful reality God intends.

There is more for you here—something healthier, safer, and genuinely life-giving. And I’m really grateful that you’ve taken this first step in reaching out.

I’ll share a little more in my next email about what a healthy, Christ-shaped community should actually look like in practice, as I think that will help make this even clearer.

The Peace of the Lord,

Adam

Email 3

Dear Robert and Yetunde,

As I promised in my last email, I want to help you both—albeit in different ways—re-explore what church membership truly is. To do that, I’m going to invite you to look at it through three different lenses. My hope is that, as these come together, the overall picture will be both striking and compelling—something that draws you in, even as it stretches you.

I imagine that as we go along, questions will naturally arise. Please do feel free to send them through at any point.

Lens 1: A Holy God with a Holy People

To begin, we need to step back into the Old Testament where we encounter a defining truth: the life of God’s people always reflects the nature of God himself.

Or to put it simply: a holy God creates a holy people.

In Leviticus 19:1 we read:

“Speak to the entire Israelite community and tell them: ‘Be holy, because I, the Lord your God, am holy.’”

When we hear the word holy, we often reduce it to moral purity—being good, upright and free from sin. That’s true, but it’s far too small. Biblically, holy is a richer, deeper, even unsettling word. At its root, it means to cut, to separate, to set apart. It divides reality into two categories: what is common—and what is utterly not.

God is not simply better than everything else—He is altogether different.

Throughout Scripture, whenever people encounter God, they realise they are dealing with someone unlike anything they’ve ever known. He is not like creation. He is not contained, manageable or predictable. He is vast, weighty and beyond comparison.

Which is why the idea of “domesticating” God is so dangerous. He cannot be trimmed down into something comfortable or convenient. He is not a tame addition to our lives—He is the blazing centre of reality itself.

And this has profound implications.

When God says, “Be holy because I am holy”, He is not simply calling His people to be morally improved versions of those around them. He is calling them to be distinct—cut away from the patterns of a broken world and visibly marked out as His.

Now, here’s where it gets really interesting.

In the Old Testament, this idea of holiness wasn’t limited to people. It touched everything: ground, days, clothing, food, money, homes, cities, even words and objects. Anything set apart for God was called holy.

As R.C. Sproul famously put it, what is holy is that which is “set apart… separated from the commonplace, consecrated to the Lord”.

So the command carries real weight:

• Be separate, because I am separate
• Be distinct, because I am distinct
• Be wholly devoted to me

A holy God will always form a holy people—visible, defined, and unmistakably set apart.

How This Calling Took Shape

But what did that actually look like in practice?

This calling didn’t sit quietly in the background—it worked its way into every part of life. There was no neutral ground. Everything was shaped by the reality that they belonged to God.

You could see it in their bodies—through circumcision.
You could taste it at their tables—through food laws.
You could hear it in their worship—through reverent, ordered sacrifice.
You could feel it in their communities—through justice, care, and love for neighbour.

Every part of life was drawn into this one defining truth: they were God’s, and they were to live like it.

Step back, and the overall picture becomes clear: this was not a people who blended in. They didn’t run on the same instincts, pursue the same goals, or live by the same assumptions. They were visibly, practically, unmistakably different.

And that is remarkable—that a holy God would call a people, shape them and entrust them with reflecting His character in the world.

Not Less, but More in the New Testament

What’s surprising is that this calling doesn’t fade in the New Testament—it intensifies.

Listen to Peter (1 Peter 2:9–10): “But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession… Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God.”

All the categories from the Old Testament come rushing back—only now they are fulfilled and sharpened through Christ.

The church is not less defined—it is more so.

Not looser—but clearer.
Not dimmer—but brighter.

When this truth lands, so much else begins to make sense:

• A city on a hill only matters if it stands out
• Light only shines if it is distinct from darkness
  
  

Paul picks this up in Ephesians 2. Once we were cut off—but now, in Christ, we have been brought near. We are no longer outsiders, but citizens, family, members of God’s household.

The cross doesn’t dilute God’s holiness—it brings us into it.

And so, the call resounds again: “Be holy, because I am holy” (1 Peter 1:16)

But this time, we see something even clearer: this holiness is not an individual project—it is a community reality.

Peter speaks in plural terms: a people, a nation, a possession. The call to distinctiveness is something we live out together.

Why This Matters for Membership

This is where everything begins to connect.

From beginning to end, Scripture never imagines a lone, self-defined version of following God. There is no category for isolated holiness.

God calls a people.
He forms a family.
He shapes a shared life.

Holiness is never a solo performance—it is something lived out visibly, relationally, communally.

And that’s where church membership comes in.

At its heart, it is not about a name on a list, a box ticked or an administrative process. It is something far deeper: A wholehearted commitment to belong to a visibly distinct people—whose shared life shows that they belong to a visibly distinct God.

Oh dear—I’ve only managed to cover the first of the three lenses I had in mind!

I’ll send another email shortly where we explore the second.

The Peace of Our Lord,

Adam

Email 4

Dear Robert and Yetunde,

Thank you, Yetunde, for your thoughtful reply. Your questions are really helpful, and I do want to come back and give them the attention they deserve. But before we go there, let me complete the picture I began in my last email by showing you the other two lenses.

You see, it’s really the combined picture—what all three of these lenses reveal together—that gives us the rich and compelling vision of church membership we find in Scripture. Each on its own is important, but together they begin to build something that is both beautiful and, if we’re honest, a little overwhelming.

So, having already explored the first lens—that God is holy (set apart), and therefore calls His people to be a holy (set apart) people—let me now take you to the second.

Lens 2: A Covenant People of a Covenant-Keeping God

Let’s begin with a question that sits right underneath everything we’re talking about:

How is a relationship between an infinite, all-powerful God and finite human beings even possible?

That may sound abstract, but it’s actually deeply practical. If we misunderstand the answer, we will inevitably misunderstand the church as well.

As the theologian Herman Bavinck observed, most approaches to religion struggle to resolve this tension. They either bring God down to our level—making Him more manageable, more like us—or they push Him so far beyond us that real relationship feels impossible.

But the Bible charts a very different course. It tells us that relationship with God is made possible through something deeply personal and deeply binding: covenant.

A covenant is not casual; It is not loose or undefined. It is a relationship built on promises—solemn, weighty, life-shaping promises. Bavinck goes as far as to say, “Covenant is the essence of true religion”.

That insight begins to help us answer a question we’ve already touched on: why, wherever the gospel went, did clearly defined, committed communities begin to form?

And the answer is this: because the gospel does not simply gather individuals—it creates a covenant people.

To see how this works itself out in real life, it helps to look at a slightly messy example. In 1 Corinthians 11, Paul addresses what is happening when the church gathers together. And what he describes is not pretty.

Some people are eating far more than they need, while others are left with nothing. Some are going as far as getting drunk, while others are humiliated and excluded. What should have been a moment of shared remembrance and unity has become a moment of division and selfishness.

Now, you might expect Paul to simply tell them to be more considerate or to share better. But he doesn’t start there. Instead, he takes them straight to the heart of their identity. He reminds them of the Lord’s Supper and quotes Jesus’ words: “This cup is the new covenant in my blood.”

In other words, Paul is saying, “You have misunderstood who you are.”

This meal is not just a ritual. It is a declaration that they are a people bound together by the sacrificial death of Christ. They are not a loose collection of individuals—they are a covenant community, brought together at infinite cost.

That’s why John Piper can say that the church is not only created by the new covenant—it is actually shaped and governed by it. The cross doesn’t just save us individually; it begins to reorder the way we live together.

So the implication is striking: the way we treat one another is never just a matter of personality or preference—it’s a reflection of how deeply we understand the gospel and the covenant community it is forming among us.

To bring that down to earth, it is helpful to think about what a covenant looks like in everyday life.

Take marriage. When two people enter into a covenant, something decisive happens. They don’t just add another relationship to their lives; they form a new, defining bond. Other relationships don’t disappear, but they do change shape in light of that new commitment. There is a level of belonging, trust, and shared life that is not extended in the same way to everyone else.

Or think of Abraham. When God calls him, he leaves behind familiarity, security, even identity markers. His whole future becomes tied to the promises of God. Again, covenant reshapes everything.

Now bring that into the church.

Through Jesus, we are brought into a covenant relationship with God. And that doesn’t leave us as isolated individuals—it draws us into a shared life with others who belong to Him.

Our covenant with God begins to create and define our covenant with one another.

And this is where church membership begins to make more sense. At its heart, it is simply this: a group of people, in a particular place, making meaningful promises to God and to one another, to live as His people together.

That inevitably means that this group of people has a real, tangible claim on your life—not in a controlling or oppressive sense, but in a relational, committed, gospel-shaped sense. Your shared life together becomes a visible expression of what Jesus has done.

Lens 3: The Church as an Embassy of Heaven

Let me now turn to the third lens, which shifts the perspective slightly.

If the second lens helps us answer, “Who are we?”, this one begins to ask, “Where do we belong—and what are we doing here?”

The Bible speaks of Christians as strangers, exiles, and temporary residents. That language can feel strange at first, but it’s helping us see something important: we live in this world, but we don’t ultimately belong to it.

Our deepest identity is tied to another kingdom.

That’s why it can be helpful to think of the church as something like an embassy.

An embassy exists within one country, but it represents another. It carries the identity, authority, and interests of a different kingdom into its present location. It identifies who belongs to that kingdom and seeks to live out its values in a foreign place.

That picture begins to bring clarity to what the church is.

The church doesn’t create the gospel—but it does recognise and affirm it. It doesn’t create salvation—but it does help make visible who belongs to Christ. It is also entrusted, in a careful and accountable way, with responsibility—what Jesus describes as the “keys of the kingdom”—to welcome, to guide, and, when necessary, to correct.

And all of this is for a purpose: to make visible the rule and reign of King Jesus.

But for that to happen, something has to be true. The church cannot remain vague or undefined. Belonging cannot be merely assumed or loosely held. There has to be some kind of recognisable, meaningful commitment.

Otherwise, the picture begins to blur. The clarity fades. The witness weakens.

And that’s why, when we bring all three lenses together—holiness, covenant, and identity as an embassy—we begin to see that church membership is not an administrative add-on. It is actually woven into the very fabric of what the church is.

I realise again that I’ve said a lot—probably more than I intended when I started this email!

In my next one, Yetunde, I’d really love to come back to all your practical questions and hopefully help gently connect all of this up.

The Peace of the Lord,

Adam

Email 5

Dear Robert and Yetunde,

Robert, thank you for your question about how all of this actually works out in day-to-day life. That’s such an important and helpful question, because if everything we’ve been talking about remains theoretical, then we’ve really missed the point. We’ve been called to live this! Yetunde, if it’s ok with you, we will postpone again answering your questions so we can address this massively important question from Robert here.

One helpful way of exploring this is to ask: what are the privileges and responsibilities of belonging to a church? Because if church membership is real—and meaningful—then it must be something we experience, not just something we agree with (or think about).

Let me try and sketch some of this out for you.

The Privileges of Church Membership

Let’s begin here, because before anything else needs to be said, we must recognise this: before membership is costly, it is first and foremost beautiful.

At its heart, church membership means this: you are no longer alone—you belong.

Paul captures this so simply, and yet so powerfully, when he writes: “Now you are the body of Christ, and individually members of it” (1 Corinthians 12:27).

Just pause on that for a moment. You are part of something living. Something interconnected. Something where your life is intentionally woven into the lives of others.

In that kind of community, the gospel doesn’t just remain something we believe—it becomes something we see and as it were live out.

Now, that cuts across the grain of the culture we live in. We are encouraged, almost instinctively, to build lives that are independent, private, and self-sufficient. But the church speaks a very different word over us.

It says: “You are part of a body.”

Not loosely connected.
Not casually associated.
But genuinely, meaningfully, covenantally joined.

And within that body, relationships begin to take shape in very practical ways. We begin to prefer one another, to care for one another, to pray for one another, and to grow alongside one another. It becomes a shared life, not just a shared space.

Another great privilege is something we might call spiritual care and protection.

And I think this is one we often underestimate.

When Paul speaks to church leaders in Acts 20, he uses very deliberate language. He calls them to “pay careful attention… to all the flock… which he obtained with his own blood.” There’s weight in those words—flock, care, blood-bought.

What that means is that church membership places you in a context where you are not invisible. You are known. You are watched over. You are prayed for. You are cared for.

And that does require humility. It means acknowledging something that doesn’t always come naturally to us: I cannot follow Jesus faithfully on my own.

We need teaching.
We need correction.
We need encouragement.
We need protection.

And one of the primary ways God provides those things is through the local church.

Linked closely to that is another privilege: mutual encouragement and care.

The New Testament is full of those “one another” commands—love one another, carry one another’s burdens, encourage one another, pray for one another. And those aren’t abstract ideals; they’re relational commitments.

Church membership, in a sense, gives those commands a place to land. It says, “These are my people—and I will show up in their lives.”

And that begins to take shape in ordinary but powerful ways—praying for each other in real situations, walking with one another through difficulty, speaking truth when it’s needed, celebrating joy when it comes.

It’s not shallow or surface-level. It’s deep, tangible, shared life.

The Responsibilities of Church Membership

But of course, alongside privilege comes responsibility.

Just like in marriage, there is joy—but there is also commitment. And the two are not in tension; they belong together.

The first responsibility is a commitment to gather regularly.

Hebrews speaks very directly about this: “Do not neglect meeting together…” And the reason is not simply that you need something from the gathering—though you do—but that others need what you bring.

When you show up, you strengthen the body. You encourage people, often in ways you don’t even realise. Your presence matters.

And that requires a shift in thinking, doesn’t it? It means church is not something that is optional, disposable, or built around convenience. It is an expression of belonging.

A second responsibility flows naturally from that: a commitment to the mission.

Church membership means we are not just sitting in the same room—we are going somewhere together. There is a shared purpose.

At its simplest, that mission is this: to treasure Jesus and to make Him known.

And membership says, “I’m not just attending—I’m participating.”

That participation will look different for each person, but it will involve things like serving, praying, inviting others, and giving yourself to the shared life and direction of the church.

It’s not passive. It’s purposeful.

There is also the reality of cost—but it is a joyful cost.

Membership will involve giving your time, your energy, your gifts, and yes your finances. But this isn’t reluctant giving; it’s responsive giving. It flows from what Christ has already done for us.

Because He gave everything, we find ourselves wanting to give ourselves—to Him, and to His people.

Another responsibility that often gets overlooked is prayer.

To belong to a church is to carry others before God. And that does something profound. It deepens relationships, builds unity, and sustains faith.

Sometimes prayer does a quiet work before anything else changes. Hearts soften. Perspectives shift. Love deepens.

And finally, there is a more serious, but deeply important responsibility: helping to guard the gospel.

That might sound heavy, but it’s actually about faithfulness.

It means caring about what we believe and how we live. It means wanting truth to be upheld, sin to be addressed with grace and seriousness, and the life of the church to remain aligned with the gospel.

This is not about being harsh or critical. It’s about being a people who love Jesus enough to take His truth seriously—and who love one another enough to walk faithfully in it.

So, when you put all of that together, you begin to see something quite striking.

Church membership is not simply an idea or a structure. It is a shared life—one that is filled with real privilege, but also real responsibility. And the two together create something that is both demanding and deeply life-giving.

In my next email, promise to get to Yetunde’s questions which I’ve left hanging now for way too long!

For now, thank you both again for leaning into this. These are important conversations.

The Peace of Our Lord,
Adam

Email 6

Dear Robert and Yetunde,

Yetunde, thank you again for your questions and for being so patient waiting for me to get to them! They are thoughtful, honest, and—if I’m honest—the kinds of questions many people are asking, even if they don’t always put them into words. So rather than rush past them, I want to slow down and respond carefully.

What I’ll do here is keep things in a simple Q&A style, but still try to fold in everything we’ve been thinking about in these emails—holiness, covenant, and belonging. My hope is that this helps bring clarity, but also reassurance as you process things.

Is church membership really necessary?

It’s a fair question—and an important one.

When we’ve spoken about church membership, we’ve described it as a lived-out commitment to being a holy people, a covenant people, and, in some sense, an embassy of heaven. That may sound big (because it is!), but it also needs grounding in everyday reality.

One way to think about this is through something more familiar: marriage.

It’s very difficult—perhaps impossible—to imagine a healthy marriage without clear, expressed commitment. Promises matter. Vows matter. The security of knowing, “this person has bound themselves to me, and I to them,” creates the context where love can grow and flourish.

Church life works in a similar way. Without expressed, shared commitment, community becomes fragile. But where there is clarity, promise, and mutual belonging, something far richer can grow.

So membership isn’t an extra layer—it’s part of how the life of the church actually takes shape.

If I’m committed to God, aren’t I automatically committed to the church?

It might feel like the answer should be yes—but the New Testament suggests otherwise.

There are clear warnings, for example, in Hebrews 10:25 about drifting away from gathering with others. And when you begin to notice all the “one another” commands—love one another, encourage one another, bear one another’s burdens—it becomes clear that Christian life is meant to be lived with others, intentionally.

In other words, commitment to God doesn’t automatically translate into meaningful commitment to a people.

That step still needs to be taken.

Just like any meaningful relationship, it requires intention, participation, and a willingness to be known and involved.

Can I belong if I don’t agree with everything?

This is where some careful distinction is needed.

If the disagreement is around something central—like who Jesus is—then that becomes foundational. You can’t meaningfully build shared life on fundamentally different understandings of the core of the gospel.

But there are also areas where Christians, in good faith, arrive at different conclusions—things like baptism, for example. In those situations, there can be room for belonging, provided there is humility, unity of heart, and a willingness to live within the shared direction of this church.

In other words, unity doesn’t mean uniformity—but it does require a shared foundation.

Who decides what membership looks like?

There’s a shared responsibility here.

Leaders—particularly elders—have a role in shaping and guarding the life of the church, helping ensure that what we do aligns with Scripture. But it’s not something imposed in a distant or detached way.

The congregation also plays a part, as together we recognise and affirm what it means to belong.

So, in a healthy church, there is both guidance and shared ownership.

What does someone actually need in order to become a member?

At its simplest, it comes down to a few key things:

A clear and credible profession of faith in Jesus.
Baptism, as the outward sign of that inward reality.
A willingness to commit to the life and mission of the church.
A readiness to sit under the loving leadership of the church.

And, importantly, a desire to participate—not just observe—in the shared life of God’s people.

Is a membership list really necessary?

It might feel a little formal—but it’s actually quite simple.

A membership list just answers the question: who are we committed to living this life with?

Again, the marriage analogy helps. A marriage is clearly defined—it is not vague or open-ended. That clarity doesn’t restrict the relationship; it strengthens it.

In the same way, knowing who belongs helps create accountability, care, and shared responsibility.

Is membership hard work?

Yes—but it’s also deeply rewarding.

Anything meaningful in life holds both of those realities together. Marriage, friendships, family life—they all involve effort and perseverance. But they are also where life becomes richest.

Church membership is no different. There will be moments of difficulty, but also moments of deep joy, growth, and encouragement that simply can’t be experienced in isolation.

How might this look to someone outside the church?

This is an important question.

If done poorly, membership can feel closed-off or even exclusive in an unhelpful way. But if lived well, it should look like something quite different—a community marked by love, care, and self-giving.

Something that feels… different.

And that difference, at its best, becomes compelling. It points beyond itself to Jesus—the one who makes that kind of community possible.

What about roles and serving?

In general, there is often space for people to get involved in practical ways before becoming members. But when it comes to leadership, or roles that shape the spiritual direction of the church, there is naturally a need for those people to be members.

That makes sense, because those roles are not just functional—they are formative.

What if I’m not ready to commit?

That’s okay.

There needs to be space to explore, to ask questions, and to discern whether this is the right place to belong. Rushing that wouldn’t be helpful.

At the same time, if someone settles into a pattern of attending without ever moving towards commitment, it’s worth gently asking why. Because, as we’ve seen, healthy church life is built on expressed, shared belonging.

Is membership a process?

Yes—it’s almost never instant.

It takes time to understand a church, to build relationships, to get a sense of whether you can genuinely belong and contribute. A thoughtful, prayerful approach is a good thing.

Can I belong to more than one church?

In practice, no.

For the same reasons we’ve seen throughout—a covenant relationship carries a certain focus. It’s about committing yourself to a particular people in a particular place.

What happens if someone lives in a way that contradicts the gospel?

This is one of the harder areas.

Membership includes accountability—not in a heavy-handed way, but because we care about one another’s spiritual health. Where there is ongoing, unrepentant sin, there may be the need for loving correction.

And, in rare cases, that can lead to someone no longer being recognised as part of the membership.

But even then, the aim is never punishment—it is always restoration.

Yetunde, as you read through these, I’m very aware that some of this may still feel difficult, especially in light of what you’ve experienced. That’s completely understandable. My hope is that, little by little, you’re beginning to see not just what went wrong in the past, but what God intends to be good.

The Peace of the Lord,

Adam