Dan Duckworth is the founder and host of LeaderQuest, an elite leadership program that transforms managers and executives into dynamic changemakers. He speaks, teaches, and writes on leadership and leadership development, and provides one-on-one coaching to leaders aiming to drive transformational change. Dan has served as a board member for Leading Saints since 2019. To learn more, visit idylli.co or find Dan on LinkedIn.
What is Church?
While we understand “the Church” in terms of its structures, buildings, and protocols, church is nothing more than what we individually experience as we come together. So often, what we experience isn’t what we need.
This morning, in the scriptures, I came across a glorious vision of what church could be—indeed, should be.
In 3 Nephi 11:1-2, the people gathered at the temple. They had just endured storms, earthquakes, and fires, followed by three days of darkness filled with sorrowful cries for lost loved ones. Then, they heard the voice of Christ calling to them. The darkness lifted, and their grief turned to joy.
Paraphrasing the scripture, “a great multitude gathered, marveling and wondering and showing one another the great change that had taken place, and conversing about Jesus Christ and the sign of his death.”
In this moment of transformation, they gathered—not out of obligation, but because of an innate human need for connection. We are social creatures, and our lives are socially constructed. We need others to help us make sense of our experiences.
This is why we gather. This is why we do church. They came to the temple, a physical representation of God’s presence among them, to marvel and share their awe and wonder at the profound experiences they’d witnessed. Without procedures or rules, they came to share stories, seek understanding, and collectively determine the meaning of it all. It was so natural.
As they all had witnessed the sign of Christ’s death and heard his voice in the darkness, their discussions naturally revolved around Jesus. They sought to comprehend his significance in the unfolding events, grappling with the profound transformation they had collectively undergone when they had accepted Jesus’s invitation to come unto Him—their overwhelming grief becoming inexplicable joy. Their gathering was not mandated or habitual, but a response to a personal invitation from Jesus himself and the redemption he rendered in them. It was spontaneous and unscripted.
What It Means to Do Church
“Church”, it turns out, is a natural phenomenon, a collective experience that occurs without pastors, priests, and teachers, without bells to gather the people or pews to corral them. In its purest form, church is simply gathering in Christ.
Any structure we introduce into the organic experience of church should directly support and edify the natural gathering and integration of the body of Christ (see Ephesians 4:11-12). Conversely, any structure that detracts from it should be eschewed and discarded.
Unfortunately, church, as we experience it today, has become a rigid institution that reduces individuals to passive recipients rather than active participants—objects instead of agents (see 2 Nephi 2:26). Therefore, it is incumbent upon our pastors and teachers—at least those who grasp the essence of communal worship—to diligently dismantle unnecessary barriers to the natural phenomenon of gathering in Christ.
What is needed is not lectures, presentations, gimmicks, or refreshments. What is needed is an environment and culture that fosters open, adaptive conversations centered on Christ, a space that naturally beckons the people—
“Gather to marvel and wonder at the power and judgments and mercies of Christ.
“Gather to show one another the great and marvelous changes taking place in your lives.
“Gather to converse about Jesus Christ and the signs of his reality and imminent return.
“Gather to fast and pray with sympathetic others, and speak with one another concerning the welfare of your souls. (see Moroni 6:5)
“Gather—amidst your busy, distracting, and sometimes overwhelming world—to remember and reconnect with Jesus Christ. Come partake of the fruit of the tree of life, and freely eat and drink of the bread and water of life, even symbolically through the sacrament. (see Alma 5:34 and Moroni 6:5)
“Gather to mourn the travesties and injustices you experience, seeking comfort not in an abstract portrayal of God or a dogmatic recitation of his gospel, but in the warm embrace and comforting words of those around you; and give comfort to those who likewise need you. (see Mosiah 18:9)
“Gather where friends preach or exhort or pray or supplicate or sing as the Holy Ghost guides them to, where we worship in spirit and in truth because what we do is always congruent with our ever-changing needs—never scripted, never stale. (see Moroni 6:9 and John 4:24)
“Gather where the law—the structures and the rules—is dead to us and our gatherings are alive in Christ because of our faith; where we freely and fluidly talk of Christ, rejoice in Christ, preach of Christ, and prophesy of Christ as the source of our redemption and joy.” (see 2 Nephi 25:25-26)
We don’t need the Church to tell us how to do church. It’s in our bones. As 3 Nephi 11 proves, if there were no Church, there would still be church. The faithful would still gather in Christ to marvel and wonder and collectively make sense of their lives.
Regrettably, though, this is not the church experience we encounter on most Sundays in most congregations. While we may glimpse it in isolated moments or to varying degrees, such instances are exceptional rather than normal.
Justice Demands That We Restore the Natural Order
Yesterday, my heart was heavy as I mourned for my neighbors, Jason and Amanda. Just days ago, they lost their second child in a tragic motorcycle accident. As my wife Jolene and I gathered around Amanda in her home, we witnessed profound grief—weeping and howling that rivals that found in 3 Nephi 8-10. Guided by the Spirit, we mourned and comforted, prayed and encouraged. There was no script, only the Holy Ghost to guide us.
As we were preparing to leave, Amanda unexpectedly said, “I think I’d like to come back to church when things settle down.” Newfound hope lifted her voice and expression. Jesus was doing His thing.
In her heart, Amanda heard the gentle voice of the Messiah, saying to her, “You whom I have spared, how oft will I gather you as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, if ye will repent and return unto me with full purpose of heart.” (see 3 Nephi 10:6)
Naturally and instinctively, she felt drawn to gather beneath the protecting wing of Christ to find meaning in the tragedy—to mourn, marvel, wonder, and discuss the changes she’s experiencing, as well as the future made possible through Jesus—and to do it with likeminded others. Upon hearing God’s voice, her natural instinct was to gather with God’s people.
And then yesterday, as I drove, I pictured Amanda at church, going through the motions with us all, sitting quietly in our seats, dutifully playing our roles. Can you imagine? Amanda, sitting there with her heavy heart, grappling with unimaginable pain, questions swirling in her mind, being led through a structured, predetermined lesson, listening to abstract discussions completely disconnected from her lived reality? That’s not what she came for. It’s not what she needs.
In Original Grace, Adam Miller defines justice as doing what is needed. He says Christ is just in that He always does for us what we need. Shouldn’t His Church do likewise?
Amanda doesn’t need to sit in a classroom, passively listening to others discuss their worldviews and interpretations of the gospel. What she needs is a space to mourn, marvel, and ponder the profound changes taking place in her life. She needs to engage with others who are also grappling openly and authentically with both tragedy and triumph, seeking to make sense of their experiences. She needs a place where conversations flow freely and dynamically—where she can openly discuss the signs in her life, and in others’ lives, that affirm Jesus truly died for her, rose again, and is shepherding her towards healing and redemption. Anything less would be unjust.
Aligning How We Gather with Why We Gather
In my current role as stake Sunday School president, combined with my professional background as a leadership mentor, I spend a lot of time observing teaching and learning in classroom settings, deeply reflecting on and experimenting with ways to enhance spiritual development.
I’ve concluded that within the Church, we’ve evolved into a structured pattern of worship that often runs counter to natural rhythms. It’s rigid rather than fluid, confining rather than uplifting. Far from being inspired by the Holy Ghost, church is performed each week according to a well-worn script.
In many ways, church is canceling church—the methods we’ve adopted contradict the very reasons we gather. The means are destroying the ends.
Today, reflecting on 3 Nephi 11:1-2, I’ve realized that my efforts to encourage Sunday School teachers toward a transformational mindset and teaching approach are fundamentally about restoring the natural order in our approach to church. I’m trying to help them reclaim the dynamism and fluidity, the marveling and wondering, and the community and meaningful conversation that our people crave—and need.
Pastors and teachers don’t need to work magic; they need only to create the space for the people to gather—whether two or three, or twenty or thirty—in the name of Christ. Then Christ will come into their midst, as He did with those at the Nephite temple, and minister to them (see Matt 18:20). That’s what the people need. That’s justice
What my soul yearns for—for myself, for Amanda, for all of our children—is a restoration of the church experience to its natural state.
There is a monumental need to align how we gather with why we gather. Church leadership has repeatedly acknowledged this need by dismantling old blueprints over the past decade. And yet, they can’t really change the patterns, because they are culturally ingrained in our everyweek worship. Local leaders (both called and otherwise) must take the initiative to bring about meaningful change in their stakes and wards, but few have. Thus systematic change in how we gather is unlikely to occur in the near future
In the meantime, what can each of us do?
Lift where we stand. Teachers, especially, can create microcosms—small, localized instances where positive and innovative practices diverge from the traditional approach. Teachers can learn to create environments that foster the authentic church experience we all earnestly yearn for.
Restoring the natural order in a context so rigidly set in an artificial mold is challenging, as I’ve experienced firsthand. However, I’ve done it and seen it done. It requires focus, energy, and above all, personal transformation to attune yourself to the natural order of things and relinquish your dependency on and reverence for the traditions of our fathers.
