Churches on Instagram

My friend was scrolling through my Instagram feed the other day and saw a post from a local church.

Yes, I follow the church in my small town on Instagram. Partly because they just generate quality content I am usually pleased to see. They usually flood my feed with pretty flowers, nice candle arrangements, lots of gorgeous fabric, and, of course, bake sale notifications. Then my friend asked if I am a member of the church. In all honesty, I have never even been to this church. I drive past it frequently (it is on Main Street after all), I buy their cookies during bake sales, but I have never once stopped to pop my head in.

Growing up, people always talked about your “church family”. I was told they were the people you should turn to. They come together to support you and the community. They always greet you with a smile and make you feel all warm and fuzzy. Maybe I have been doing it wrong, but I do not believe I have ever been part of a church family. I have never felt solidarity with other members. I have never felt a closer connection to God because I am in a building with a vaulted ceiling. I have never desired to go to church for comfort. This may have something to do with me being QTPOC, many churches I have been to have made a bigger deal about it than my parents did when I came out (and they were a little less than thrilled at the time).

But when I open Instagram and I get a look at the beautifully decorated altar

But when I open Instagram and I get a look at the decorated altar, or the pastor and her wife in Halloween costumes, I feel calmer. Usually when I look at a church’s Instagram, they feel cold and lonely. They do not come off as inviting. But my local church is different. They put the effort in. Holidays are moments to celebrate, not just dates circled on a calendar. Community outreach manifests as a selfie with the family, not just a “please donate” link. It feels like a community, not a business.

I usually find myself in bed at 10:00 AM on Sundays, when they have service. Instead of rushing out the door, I check Instagram. While I may not get a sermon, I do get my church family. We might only communicate through little red hearts, but I feel more gratitude towards the ideas and vibes the church posts on the internet than I feel a desire to hear scripture read. I can read the Bible at my house. I can analyse the text and derive modern meeting for myself. And I can engage my religious community from the comfort of my home. For once, I feel like I found a church family. Now I just have to go say hi in person.