When a Church Becomes a Greenhouse That Blocks the Sun

And why I learned faith can flourish outside the fences

Photo by Nagesh Badu on Unsplash

I used to believe the church was the greenhouse where faith naturally flourished.

Put a seed in the soil of Sunday services, water it with midweek Bible studies, shine a little worship music over it, and — presto — you’d grow.

But then…sometimes the very greenhouse you depend on starts blocking the sun.

I’m not saying there isn’t potential value in attending church. But, assembling yourselves together (Hebrews 10:23–25) can be much different than a typical structured church service.

When the Walls Start Closing In

I discovered, slowly and a bit painfully, that in some ways — many ways actually — the church can prevent you from growing. Not because everyone in it is bad, or because God has abandoned the place…

…but because institutions have a way of drifting from their first love.

Jesus warned the Pharisees about this, didn’t He? “You nullify the word of God for the sake of your tradition” (Matthew 15:6).

What begins as passion too often calcifies into habit. And habits, when unquestioned, become barriers. Before long, you find yourself measuring faith not by whether you love your neighbor, but by whether you checked off attendance and agreed with the doctrines.

A grapevine doesn’t mature just because it sits inside a trellis. It needs air, light, and pruning.

Finding Truth Outside the Gates

Another discovery that rattled me: truth doesn’t only come wrapped in church bulletins. Okay…this is going to be too radical for some, but I believe truth is truth regardless of who says it.

You can hear it from a Muslim neighbor, a Buddhist poet, an atheist scientist, or even the mechanic who says something ordinary yet piercing, almost prophetic.

For years, I thought truth was locked inside the church’s filing cabinet. But Jesus never said that. He said, “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32).

Paul got this when he quoted pagan poets in Athens (Acts 17:28). Truth is truth, wherever it shows up, because all truth belongs to God — even if said by someone of another tradition…or even lack of belief in God.

The freest day of my life was the day I let myself learn from anyone, without checking their doctrinal statement first. Wisdom in a Sufi mystic. Kindness in a secular humanist. Humility in a Buddhist monk.

I couldn’t ignore the irony: some of these folks looked more like Jesus than half the church committees I’d sat through.

Goodness Beyond the Walls

Here’s another shocker: people outside the church can be just as decent and generous as those inside — sometimes more so.

I once believed Christians “love better” because we have the Holy Spirit. Then life introduced me to neighbors who’d never set foot in a sanctuary, yet carried casseroles to the sick, welcomed strangers, and lived with integrity that humbled me.

Meanwhile, I sat in meetings where folks with decades of “walking with the Lord” couldn’t muster basic decency toward each other. Jesus said we’d be known by our love (John 13:35).

The irony was glaring.

Sometimes the Spirit blows through surprising places. Like Jesus said, the wind goes where it pleases.

Faith Without Outsourcing

Here’s the heart of it: I once thought my faith rose and fell on my church membership. Miss a Sunday, and I felt God was disappointed. Skip small group, and suddenly I was “drifting.”

But Jesus never said, “Abide in the church.” He said, “Abide in me” (John 15:4).

That’s a different invitation. He wasn’t calling us to live off borrowed spirituality — sermons, programs, conferences — but to sink our roots deep into His love.

When I loosened my grip on the institution, I was terrified. It felt like stepping off a cliff. But I discovered something unexpected — there’s solid ground when Christ Himself is the foundation.

Faith isn’t the property of churches; it’s the gift of God. You don’t rent it weekly. You carry it in your bones.

A Vineyard Without Fences

Maybe the best picture is this: faith is a vineyard. The church can provide a fence, a trellis, some helpful tools. But confuse the fence for the vineyard, and you’ve missed the point.

Grapes grow because of life flowing through the vine (John 15), not because of the posts holding it up.

And sometimes, when the fence falls down, you realize the vine was stronger than you ever imagined.

I don’t bash the church — I’m grateful for what it gave me: songs, Scriptures, friendships.

But I’ve learned not to mistake the wrapping paper for the gift.

The church can guide, but it can also stunt. It can nurture, but it can also smother. And when that happens, you have to remember: God isn’t bound by walls or bylaws.

The Adventure of Growing Up in Christ

Here’s where the adventure begins: stepping outside the greenhouse, blinking in the sunlight, and realizing growth is still possible — maybe even more possible — when you’re not under constant institutional supervision.

You start to notice God in places you’d overlooked:

• In the laugh of a child.

• In the words of a poet who never claimed Christ.

• In the neighbor who brings soup when you’re sick.

• In the scientist who maps galaxies and somehow whispers of glory.

  
  

And when you realize Jesus is bigger than the church, your faith doesn’t shrink — it expands. You see what Paul meant when he said God’s love is “wider and longer and higher and deeper than we can imagine” (Ephesians 3:18).

That’s the point, isn’t it?

To keep growing. Not to stay in spiritual kindergarten, repeating the same memory verses without ever learning to love better, think deeper, or live freer.

Jesus didn’t come to build a gated community.

He came to set captives free. And sometimes the captives are sitting in pews, unaware the doors are already unlocked.

So What Now?

Maybe faith is less about where you show up on Sunday and more about who you become on Monday.

Maybe maturity is measured not by attendance charts but by how quickly you forgive, how freely you give, how deeply you love.

Those are the questions that keep me growing. And ironically, it took stepping outside the church’s shadow to finally start answering them.

Because the vineyard was always bigger than the fence. And the Spirit, thank God, has never been afraid of open skies.

© Gary L Ellis