Why Do You Go to Church?

This was a question I got asked often, especially ever since I started my freshman year at Rice.  When my friends first learned that my entire Friday evenings and Sunday mornings were dedicated to church activities, their initial reaction was disbelief—shock, even. To them, it seemed like an excessive amount of time to devote to something non-obligatory. Their curiosity usually led to the next question: “Are you religious?”. I answer honestly, admitting that I don’t consider myself Christian. I had grown up in church, following my parents as they attended service and bible study every Sunday. But I never considered myself a Christian. I never understood why out of all the other religions, Christianity was the only valid one. However, instead of using these doubts as a reason to stop going to church, I complied with the religious activities. It had become ingrained in my routine, a lifestyle norm, and deviating from it felt almost wrong—like breaking an unspoken commitment.

To many of my friends, this answer, however, doesn’t satisfy them, and they press further, “Why do you go to church if you’re not really Christian?” To this question, I give them my two main reasons. First, even though I don’t consider myself a believer in the Christian context, I still attend church because at least in my church, I feel comfortable exploring my questions about religion. Looking back now, I see that another fear lied in my compliance with church attendance. I suppressed my doubts about Christianity and never let myself consider taking time off church because questioning Christianity felt like a setback in my faith, like pulling at a thread that could undo my religious “progress” I had been striving towards my whole life. Even though I wasn’t Christian, the idea of at least having some sort of faith to rely on, felt reassuring, and I didn’t want to lose my only connection to it – even if it wasn’t entirely genuine. 

Once again, however, my friends are usually not satisfied with this answer, arguing that I could explore my doubts about Christianity on my own, outside of church. To this, I answer with a non-religious reason I attend – community – which in all honesty, is the main reason I keep going to church. When people hear “church,” they picture hymnals, sermons, and quiet meditation. And sure, those things exist. But at least in the church I go to, church feels more like a time to connect with my friends on a deeper level. The best way I can describe it to my friends at Rice University is through something they understand: O-Week families. Each residential college has these close-knit groups that share meals, support one another, and create a sense of belonging in a vast and overwhelming campus. My church functions the same way. Similar to O-Week families, we have smaller “house churches” that gather every Friday for dinner, conversation, and a kind of emotional check-in that feels more like group therapy than a religious ritual. Every Friday, we sit down and share how our week went—not just a list of the specific activities or schedule we had that week, but a focus on our emotions, including both the highlights and the struggles. I often compare this sharing time to o-week candlelight conversations, but instead of having them only during o-week, here at church, it’s on a weekly basis, it’s the norm. And in a world where it’s easy to feel like you’re always performing, always guarding yourself, that kind of openness is rare. I don’t fear judgment here. I don’t have to filter my words or worry about saying the “right” thing. In this space, I feel seen. 

And surprisingly, this reason usually satisfies my friends’ curiosity and some even ask if they can try my church out to experience this safespace for themselves. But ultimately, I don’t attend church to justify my choices to others. My reasons for going are clear to me, and they only grow stronger the longer I stay. Now, in college, I have the choice to walk away. No one is making me go to church anymore, yet I still find myself there. So why do I go to church? Not because I have unwavering faith, and not because I’m trying to convince myself of something I don’t truly believe. I go because it’s where I can wrestle with my uncertainties without shame. I go because it’s where I find belonging in a way I haven’t found anywhere else and feel comfortable fully expressing myself without judgement. 

Maybe one day I’ll land on a definitive belief. Maybe I won’t. But in the meantime, I’ll keep showing up, asking questions, and finding comfort in the community that embraces me, the version of me that’s a work-in-progress.