The Church comprises all the people of God, the body of Christ made visible. It transcends all denominations and traditions. The Church is inclusive of all who seek to follow Jesus’ example and teachings, living in love and practicing Jesus’ works of mercy.

The Church is the communal witness to the Resurrection. It embodies the Risen Jesus and presents him to the world.

To fully understand this role as a witness, we must carefully analyze our explanations of the Resurrection. 

Easter homilies often fixate on death’s defeat or the physicality of Jesus’ risen body, proclaiming that the Resurrection guarantees eternal life or hinges on a corpse reanimated. 

Yet, Monday arrives, and death persists. People grieve, empires oppress, and the world seems unchanged. 

This misplaced emphasis distorts the meaning of Easter, reducing it to individual immortality or historical proof rather than the vindication of a transformative way of life. 

The early Christians did not obsess over biological immortality or forensic evidence of Jesus’ body. They saw the Resurrection as God’s vindication of Jesus’ teachings—his way of selfless love, generosity, and solidarity. The Resurrection was lived, not debated, in communities that embodied Christ’s presence through mutual care and Eucharistic fellowship.  

Easter revealed that Empire, with its violence and domination, cannot destroy love. God raised Jesus, and the early Christians preached this by proclaiming, “Come see how we live.”

Easter is not about personal survival but about a community that lives the Kingdom’s values—kenotic love, generosity, and resistance to systemic injustice. The Resurrection is the sign that love is true, stronger than death, and that the Empire’s power is illusory.

This misplaced emphasis disconnects Easter from daily life. Homilies promising eternal life or debating bodily mechanics fail to inspire the radical communal witness of the early Church. Instead, Easter should challenge us to live as if the Kingdom is real: sharing resources, uplifting the marginalized, and rejecting the logic of domination. 

The early Christians’ Easter cry was not “We’ll live forever” but “God has raised Jesus—join our way of life.” 

Reclaiming Easter’s meaning requires shifting focus to the vindication of Jesus’ way. It’s about communities that practice kenotic love, demonstrating the Resurrection through their way of life. 

Empire cannot kill love, and the Kingdom’s reality endures in every act of generosity and solidarity. Easter invites us to live this truth, not theorize it, echoing the early Christians’ witness: God’s love triumphs, and our lives must show it.

Since the Church is the community of the resurrection, it manifests as the visible and present Body of Jesus, a living extension of his incarnate presence in the world.

This understanding views the Church not as a mere institution but as a communal embodiment of the risen Christ, in which His life, death, and resurrection continue to animate human relationships and social realities. 

The Church is the tangible expression of Jesus’ body, broken and restored, as seen in the Eucharistic celebration and the communal life of the Acts of the Apostles (Acts 2:42-47). As a counter-cultural body, it embodies kenotic love in opposition to anything that denigrates human dignity.  

Drawing on the Easter narratives, notably the empty tomb and the Emmaus encounter (Luke 24:13-35), the Church is called to be a space where the risen Lord is recognized, not merely commemorated, fostering a participatory engagement with the divine narrative.

The resurrection, in this view, is not a singular event but an ongoing process, re-enchanting the world through the Church’s witness of counter-narrative to secular individualism, embodying kenotic love—self-emptying for the sake of others.

Practically, this vision calls the Church to embody resurrection life in the present. It demands hospitality at the open table and resistance to imperial powers wherever they may be found, mirroring the early Christians’ refusal to participate in Roman culture, inviting all to join in the ongoing narrative of redemption and renewal.

Our post-Christian, post-secular era demands an approach to spirituality and community that reaches beyond inherited institutional forms and arrangements.

As Christianity has lost its cultural dominance and secularism itself becomes insufficient for deep meaning, both trends open space for new models rooted in pluralism, individual experience, local movements, small groups, home churches, and authentic connection.

This cultural shift means that traditional denominational structures—sometimes rigid, insular, and slow to adapt—may no longer function as default containers for spiritual life.

People increasingly seek resonance and meaning outside those old boundaries, looking for forms of encounter and community that respond to a more diverse and questioning world.

In the post-secular landscape, the challenge and opportunity lie in fostering spiritual practices and relationships that nurture genuine belonging, compassion, and shared purpose—without relying on purely institutional frameworks.

New models must embrace the complexity and plurality of our time, so that Christianity becomes a lifelong, engaged journey alongside others rather than simply adherence to limited traditions.

Significantly, we must transcend the thinking and habit that the church is something we go to.

Changing our minds means shifting from seeing church as a place we go to, to understanding church as something we become. Rather than being passive participants, we are called to embody the Kingdom through intentional relationships.

This transformation requires a change in habits as well. Instead of limiting our Christianity to Sunday attendance, we must weave the values and spirit of the church into how we interact with family, neighbors, and communities—whether in homes, online, or informal settings.

By embracing this active, engaged way of being church, we renew what it means to belong to the body of Christ.

The church thrives not through full pews or grand buildings, but through people committed to embodying love, compassion, and mission every day. This shift invites us to take ownership of our spirituality, living church as a dynamic, ongoing reality rather than a weekly obligation.

To answer this question, I would like to start by referencing a book written by two ministers. 

In "Solus Jesus: A Theology of Resistance" (2018), Emily Swan and Ken Wilson, former Vineyard pastors who left their denomination due to issues of exclusion and inclusion, propose a radical reorientation of the Christian community centered on Jesus’ ministry. 

In the book, they critique evangelical rigidity and advocate for a church defined by Jesus' teachings of love, justice, and resistance to oppression rather than doctrinal boundaries or exclusionary practices. 

In particular, they call for an ecclesiology that resists empire-like church structures and embraces marginalized voices.

Central to their understanding is who belongs in the church. They argue that inclusion is not conditional on creeds, moral purity, or ritual correctness, but on alignment with Jesus' way—encompassing anyone who embodies Jesus' ethic: loving others, feeding the hungry, welcoming strangers, and challenging abusive power. 

They draw from biblical narratives like Jesus dining with tax collectors and prostitutes, positing the church as a "big tent" where diversity strengthens communal witness.

Who isn't in? Those who enforce hierarchies, hoard power, or weaponize scripture to marginalize—echoing Pharisees' legalism. Exclusion arises not from identity but from actions that perpetuate injustice. 

Boundaries in "Solus Jesus" are fluid and relational, not rigid fences. Church edges are porous, inviting dialogue with outsiders, including non-Christians, emphasizing ethical orthopraxy over orthodoxy. 

In the Gospels, Jesus dined with tax collectors, prostitutes, and outcasts, breaking social barriers to welcome the marginalized. He prioritized compassion over purity codes, Sabbath healing, and affirming Samaritans. 

No one seeking Jesus and spiritual growth should face rejection at the door; instead, invite them into dialogue, sacraments, and fellowship.

Jesus shared meals openly, using them to build unity and foster forgiveness, rather than as a means of testing orthodoxy. By shifting focus to spiritual hunger and repentance, the Church could open communion to earnest seekers, promoting healing and ecumenism. 

Adopting such an inclusive stance isn't diluting the truth; rather, it reflects Jesus' invitation: "Come to me, all you who are weary." 

The Church, as the people of God, manifests itself as the communion of saints, a living network of interconnected relationships that spans time and eternity.

The term “saints” here extends beyond canonized individuals to encompass all followers of Jesus—those who embody his teachings of love, justice, and self-giving. 

This communion transcends the present, uniting the people of God across generations: those who have gone before, those in purgatory, and those alive today.

The communion of saints emerges as a graced community where the natural and supernatural interpenetrate, drawing on the Eucharist as a unifying act that links the living, the departed, and those being purified.

The Church as the communion of saints calls for a lived awareness of this unity. It invites the faithful to honor the wisdom of past saints—martyrs, reformers, and everyday disciples—while praying for those in purgatory and fostering solidarity with the living. 

This fellowship, rooted in the resurrection, offers a framework in which meaning emerges from relational participation, inviting all to join the ongoing narrative of God’s love and transforming the Church into a timeless communion.