In contrast to the homeschooling endeavor I have pursued for more than a decade—where we are able to take the good parts of education and create a whole that far exceeds its constitutive parts—home-churching has proven to have quite the opposite result: Most of the parts are present, and yet they fail miserably to create a superior whole.

It has been six long weeks since my family and I have been able to worship on Sunday morning with our church family. In our state, gatherings of more than 10 to 15 people have been banned and stay-at-home orders have been in place for several weeks. As such, every Lord’s Day morning, we have dutifully printed off the worship bulletin from the church website, set up our computer in our library, and sat around my children’s school table to stream the service.

In contrast to the homeschooling endeavor I have pursued for more than a decade—where we are able to take the good parts of education and create a whole that far exceeds its constitutive parts—home-churching has proven to have quite the opposite result: Most of the parts are present, and yet they fail miserably to create a superior whole.

Here are six reasons why:

1. Digital cannot replace incarnational.

Protestants, Orthodox, and Catholics all agree something divinely appointed is happening when the Body of Christ gathers. This is lost when we are gathering at home, even if (in my case) I am worshipping alongside five other covenant members—my husband and four children. As a member of a PCA church, I believe the divinely appointed pastor is exhorting, encouraging, and shepherding God’s people as he preaches the Word of God. That preaching still happens via live-stream, and I thank God for such redemptive uses of technology, but it simply cannot happen in the same way. I have listened to sermons from various pastors I will never meet in person, via podcast, for 15 years now as a means of spiritual growth and edification. . . . but never once have I confused that with me attending their church or being part of the flock under the care of those pastors.

2. The absence of the Lord’s Supper.

Again, my Orthodox, Lutheran, and Catholic friends all place spiritual priority upon partaking of the elements, albeit in different ways. I am squarely in the Reformed camp and affirm Calvin’s understanding of the sacrament as the visible word of God, from which my union with Christ is strengthened, so the absence of the bread and wine have been a significant loss for each member of our family. In the irony of all ironies, I happen to bake all our church’s communion bread, so in the most technical (but certainly not spiritual) sense, I could make communion happen right in our kitchen. And yet, that is inconceivable because my kitchen table is not, in fact, the same as the Lord’s Table.

3. The immediate and jarring transition back into family life.

The moment the benediction is given, we stand up, shut down the computer, pet the dog, and walk back into the kitchen. What a letdown. Setting aside all of spiritual nourishment that happens on a Sunday morning, what cannot be replicated at home are the once-a-week opportunities for a series of quick hugs, brief check-ins, and all the rest of the physical hubbub that happens only in a large family gathering in the local church. Staring at the same screen as my fellow parishioners who live across town is simply not the same as sitting next to them in the sanctuary. Anyone who tries to dispute that need only ask a married couple with one spouse deployed overseas whether Facetime across time zones is equivalent to dinner together in the dining room.

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