It’s the Lord’s Day, Not the Lord’s Hour

Some phrases are so common that we stop hearing what they are actually saying. One of those

phrases is this one: I went to church this week. It rolls off the tongue easily, and feels normal, and harmless. But the more I sit with it, the more convinced I am that it quietly shapes how we think about the Christian life in ways the New Testament never intended.

If church is something I go to, then church is a place.

If church is something I attend, then church is an event.

If church is something that lasts from the first song to the final prayer, then church is a product I consume and evaluate.

That way of thinking does not come from Scripture. It comes from habit. It comes from history. And it comes with baggage.

The Lord did not give His people an hour to endure. He gave them a day to inhabit.

The problem is not that we gather on the Lord’s Day. The problem is that we have shrunk the meaning of the church down to a narrow slice of time when a sermon is preached and songs are sung. We have taken something living and breathing and covenantal and turned it into a scheduled religious service that fits neatly between breakfast and lunch. And then we wonder why our churches feel thin. Why community feels optional. Why the one another passages sound aspirational instead of necessary. Why people can attend faithfully for years and still remain largely unknown.

This is not a small issue. It reaches into how we understand the gospel, the nature of the church, and what obedience actually looks like in ordinary Christian life.

The New Testament never calls a sermon church. It never calls singing church. It never calls the sacraments church. Those are God prescribed elements that belong to the gathering of the church on the Lord’s Day. They matter deeply and they are non negotiable. But they are not the church itself.

The church is a people.

The Greek word ekklesia does not describe a worship service. It describes an assembly. A people called out and gathered together. Not merely gathered into a room, but gathered into a shared life. A people bound together by covenant under the lordship of Christ.

When Paul writes to the church, he is not writing to a time slot. He is writing to men and women who belong to one another. When Luke describes the early church in Acts, he does not highlight a well run service. He highlights a shared life.

“They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers” (Acts 2:42).

“All who believed were together and had all things in common” (Acts 2:44).

“Day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes” (Acts 2:46).

“They were together day by day” (Acts 2:46).

That is not an hour. That is a way of life.

Now let me be clear. I am not arguing against the Lord’s Day gathering. I am arguing for it. But I am arguing for it as Scripture presents it. The gathering is for the church. It is not the church. On the Lord’s Day, the saints assemble to hear the Word preached (2 Timothy 4:2), to sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs to one another (Colossians 3:16), to read the Word publicly (1 Timothy 4:13), to pray (Acts 2:42), to witness baptisms (Matthew 28:19), and to partake of the Lord’s Supper (1 Corinthians 11:23–26). These are gifts. These are means of grace. These are commanded. But if we reduce obedience to showing up, sitting quietly, shaking a few hands, and then heading to Cracker Barrel, something has gone wrong. You did not go to church. You attended a service.

Church happens when the people of God live as the people of God.

Fellowship is not a side dish. Community is not an optional program. The one another commands are not suggestions for especially extroverted Christians. They are a central and binding outworking of the fruit of the Spirit being manifested among God’s people.

“Love one another” (John 13:34).

“Bear one another’s burdens” (Galatians 6:2).

“Encourage one another” (1 Thessalonians 5:11).

“Exhort one another every day” (Hebrews 3:13).

“Confess your sins to one another” (James 5:16).

“Pray for one another” (James 5:16).

“Forgive one another” (Ephesians 4:32).

These commands cannot be obeyed in rows of detached people who are merely consuming information for an hour. They require proximity. They require time. They require shared life.

I would argue they require a reformation of how we think about the Lord’s Day and the church as a whole. Protestants inherited a view of the gathering that we never fully stopped to examine. While the Reformers rightly rejected Rome’s sacramental system, some of the habits and instincts remained. The gathering was still treated as the pinnacle. The central religious act. The thing you attended in order to receive grace.

Rome turned the gathering into a sacrament, with the Eucharist as the apex. Grace flowed downward through the priesthood in a moment at an altar. The Reformers tore down that theology, praise God. They restored the centrality of the Word. They insisted on justification by faith alone (Romans 5:1). They rejected the idea that grace was dispensed mechanically through the mass.

And yet in practice, the gathering often retained an almost sacramental weight. The sermon replaced the supper and became the pinnacle of the service. As long as you attended and heard a good sermon, you were doing fine.

Over time, church became something you went to rather than a people you belonged to.

The New Testament knows nothing of that separation.

The early church did not structure their lives around an hour long event. They structured their week around the Lord’s Day as a whole. It was a day set apart. A day of rest. A day of joy. A day of embodied life together. The Lord’s Day is not merely a time slot for religious activity. It is a gift of rest rooted in Christ Himself. “There remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God” (Hebrews 4:9). Christ has finished the work. Christ has entered His rest. And in Him, the saints are invited to rest as well.

That rest is not inactivity. It is reorientation. We cease from our ordinary labors not because work is bad, but because our identity is not built on productivity. The Lord’s Day reminds us that we are not saved by what we accomplish. We are saved by what Christ has accomplished (John 19:30). That rest creates space. Space for worship, the Word, prayer, fellowship, long conversations, shared meals, and unhurried encouragement.

Historically, the Lord’s Day was just that. A day. The saints gathered in the morning and then they stayed together. They ate together. They walked together. They spoke of the things of the Lord to one another. They practiced hospitality. They lingered.

The agape feast was not an add on. It was an expression of their unity. “When you come together, it is not the Lord’s supper that you eat” Paul rebukes, not because they were eating, but because they were eating without love for one another (1 Corinthians 11:20–22). Rich and poor, slave and free, Jew and Gentile shared the same table (Galatians 3:28). This was not sentimental. It was theological. It proclaimed that Christ had made them one body (1 Corinthians 10:17).

You cannot replicate that with a handshake and a bulletin. When the Lord’s Day is reduced to an hour, the church becomes thin. Relationships remain shallow. Accountability feels awkward. Discipline feels unthinkable. Membership becomes a formality rather than a lived reality.

But when the Lord’s Day is reclaimed as a shared day of rest and fellowship, the church thickens. People are known. Needs surface. Joys are shared. Sins are confessed. Burdens are carried.

The New Testament vision of the church is not a crowd watching professionals perform religious duties. It is a body, fitted together, each part doing its work (Ephesians 4:16). When one member suffers, all suffer. When one rejoices, all rejoice (1 Corinthians 12:26).

That kind of life cannot be microwaved. It takes time, and presence.

It takes a willingness to rearrange our schedules and expectations.

We need to repent of treating the church like a service provider. We need to repent of thinking that attendance equals faithfulness. We need to repent of shrinking the Lord’s Day down to something manageable and convenient.

The Lord’s Day is not primarily about you getting something. It is about the church being who she is. Yes, you will be fed, encouraged, and receive grace through the Word and the sacraments. But you will also be called to give yourself away.

To share a table.

To listen.

To pray.

To encourage.

To challenge.

To use your gifts.

To fellowship.

To linger.

This is where the one another passages come alive. Not in theory, but in practice.

If your entire experience of church can be completed without anyone knowing your name, your struggles, your joys, or your story, something is off. If you can disappear for weeks without being missed, the problem is not merely organizational. It is theological.

Church is not an event you attend. It is a body you belong to. You and I are not the body. We are parts of the body. “The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I have no need of you’” (1 Corinthians 12:21).

What happens when a part of the body decides to be a spectator only. Or worse, decides not to show up. It leaves the rest of the body weakened. It deprives the church of healthy functioning.

A Word of Encouragement and Practice

By God’s grace, we have sought to address these convictions in a practical and intentional way at Twelve 5 Church.

Our Lord’s Day gathering affirms the regulative principle of worship. We seek to preach the Word (2 Timothy 4:2), see the Word in the ordinances (Romans 6:3–4; 1 Corinthians 11:26), read the Word (1 Timothy 4:13), sing the Word (Colossians 3:16), and pray the Word (Acts 2:42).

At the same time, we have intentionally woven fellowship into the very fabric of our Lord’s Day liturgy through what we call the Koinonia (Greek for fellowship) Feast. This is a shared meal connected to the Lord’s Supper. Food fosters fellowship, which is why the early church utilized this regularly. “They broke bread in their homes and received their food with glad and generous hearts” (Acts 2:46).

This meal allows community to be built and relationships to be deepened. It creates space for conversation, encouragement, and care. It slows us down.

Following the meal, we gather again for sermon discussion. This is an opportunity for the entire church to use their gifts. Saints ask detailed questions about the sermon text. Others add insight into the passage. Many times, believers point out the theological richness of Scripture to one another. Some share how God is using His truth in their lives to convict, comfort, or strengthen them.

It has been deeply fruitful. It has reinforced that the Word does not belong to the preacher alone. It belongs to the church.

We spend the bulk of the Lord’s Day together in community.

Beyond Sunday, we also offer other avenues for carrying out the one another commands. Wednesday nights are devoted to doctrinal training. Saints intentionally gather in one another’s homes throughout the week. Hospitality is practiced. Relationships are cultivated.

Much of this flows from the intentionality of the Lord’s Day itself. We are seeing how God uses it to mold the minds and hearts of His people through His truth and His grace.

The Lord’s Day gathering is precious. It is commanded. It is central. But it is not sufficient on its own to fulfill the New Testament vision of the church.

The gathering is the heartbeat. The shared life is the circulation. Remove either one and the body suffers.

So no, you did not go to church because you sang some songs, listened to a sermon, shook a few hands, and went to lunch. You attended the gathering of the church. And that matters. But it is only part of the picture.

The call of Scripture is deeper and richer and more demanding. It calls us into covenant life with one another. A life shaped by the gospel. A life ordered around Christ. A life that cannot be contained within an hour.

It is the Lord’s Day. Not the Lord’s hour.

And reclaiming that truth may be one of the most needed reforms in our time.