Mission Church is unique. I’m always curious to hear how other people perceive it and what draws them to it.

Such a conversation occurred over coffee today. In this case, I was hearing from a middle-aged dad who is moving out of town soon. We reflected on his time with us and why Mission was a good space for him to connect with God. He started off in a surprising way.

“Your church is not safe…” he said hesitantly. “Well, it is, but it’s unpredictable. It doesn’t always make you feel stable.”

He went on to describe our community meals after church, and how some homeless friends attend our church — while others come late and just join for dinner. He described some friends and church members with special needs, who aren’t always predictable. We talked about the fact that some people who show up at our church have wildly divergent views on faith and life. He noted that the mural in our entryway is pretty up front with the fact that we are all “Broken People, Given Grace.” He clarified that he needed a church to help him break out of his normal patterns and habits.

All of this means you may not get the same experience every week — and some weeks can actually leave you feeling the impact of the brokenness in the world. People sometimes leave unhappy. There are days when a church member ends up bandaging a wound, helping someone out of soiled pants, diffusing an argument, or fielding a complaint.

Then he uttered a familiar maxim — one I had never thought of in connection with our church: “Ships are safest in the harbor, but that’s not what ships are for.”

This is what drew him to our church: he saw it was doing what churches are for. When he came to our church, he could sense the mission of God’s church happening in real time. The poor, the weak, those saying “help my unbelief” were in the room. This feedback is so encouraging to me, as it’s something I have hoped and prayed would be true of us over the years.

In my early years of ministry, I went off to study urban ministry in Chicago. One of my observations was that some churches I encountered were very focused on their worship and doctrine, while others were very focused on the work they did in the community. I asked myself why it couldn’t be both. I came away convinced that you have to do both.

In our denomination, we call our regional body of churches a classis — a term for a fleet of ships that sail together. The most natural work of a classis can often default to decisions about doctrinal application and administrative work. That is all fine. Ships need maintenance and a crew. But that’s not what ships are for.

Mission is far from perfect — recall that we openly declare we are broken people — but I do hope that we are exemplifying that a church can indeed do the work of outreach and ministry parallel to the preaching of the Word and administration of the sacraments.

By parallel, I do not mean that we put on a really great event in which we encourage people to go and be in community, evangelize, and serve later. I mean that we are working out a model in which it all happens at the same time. We are trying to do good works and love our neighbor while we’re all together for worship.

Perhaps this is an important thing to consider doing, as it keeps a church’s time from being skewed in the direction of ship-defining and maintenance — without ever sailing out into the choppy waters of the world. Perhaps it would be good for someone who visits your church to experience it doing what it is for, during the primary time that it gathers together.

What Ships Are For was originally published in Dispatches from the Outpost on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.