Rethinking Church: What Intentional Communities Can Teach Us

by Rev. Bill Utke

About a decade ago, following twenty years of ordained ministry, I was given a rare gift: time. With the support of my congregation and a grant from the Lilly Foundation’s Clergy Renewal Program, I entered a three-month sabbatical season of rest, reflection, and renewal.

As part of that journey, I spent three weeks living at La’akea, an intentional community on the Big Island of Hawai‘i. Although the course I had planned to attend was canceled just before I arrived, the community still welcomed me as a guest. I lived alongside full members, trial members, and work traders, sharing in the rhythms of their daily life.

What I encountered did not look like church.

And yet, it revealed something essential about what church has been—and what we might aspire to become in today’s world.

Let me be clear: I am not suggesting that congregations adopt every aspect of life at La’akea. The community differs from most churches in significant ways—there is no shared theology, no formal leadership structure, and it embraces lifestyles many congregations would find outside their tradition.

And yet, beneath those differences are practices that echo something deeply biblical: shared life, mutual care, honest speech, and communal discernment. In that sense, La’akea did not challenge my understanding of church as much as it brought me back to the church’s roots.

Shared Values as Covenant

At La’akea, community is grounded in a clearly articulated set of shared values. These are not abstract ideals but lived commitments that guide decisions, relationships, and responsibilities. Everyone who joins the community agrees to uphold them.

This functions much like covenant. It recalls the early church in Acts, where believers ordered their lives around shared commitments, not simply shared beliefs.

Churches often assume belief is enough to hold us together. But belief does not always translate into shared life. What if we were more explicit—not only about what we believe, but how we live together?

Discernment Over Decision-Making

Perhaps the most transformative practice I encountered was consensus decision-making.

Rather than relying on majority vote, La’akea practices communal discernment. A proposal is offered, discussed, and refined by the group. Disagreement is not seen as obstruction, but as engagement.

When it is time to decide, each person responds in one of three ways: agree, step aside, or block. A “block” is rare and signals a serious concern that the proposal violates the community’s core values.  On member said, “one only uses a ‘block’ when they are ready to leave the community over the difference of opinion.”

This process echoes Acts 15, where the early church gathers, listens, debates, and ultimately declares what “seems good to the Holy Spirit and to us.”

Consensus takes time. But it also builds trust, deepens commitment, and often leads to stronger outcomes. The decision belongs to the whole community—not just the majority.

Practices That Form Community

What struck me most was that community at La’akea was not left to chance. It was practiced.

Each morning began with a conch shell calling the community together. At breakfast, each person briefly checked in—sharing how they were doing physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

It was simple, but powerful. A daily practice of presence.

Evenings brought shared meals, prepared collaboratively, beginning with a moment of silence, breath, or gratitude. Weekly gatherings called “HeartShare” created space for deeper listening. One person could speak openly while others listened and, with permission, asked questions—without judgment or the need to fix.

These rhythms felt deeply familiar. They echoed the practices of the early church: breaking bread, sharing life, bearing one another’s burdens.

Churches often rely on programs to build community. But programs alone cannot sustain it. Community is formed through repeated practices of presence, listening, and care.

A Culture of Mutual Responsibility

At La’akea, everyone contributed to the life of the community—cooking, cleaning, tending the land. Care was also shared. When someone had a need, they named it, and others responded.

Needs were not hidden. They were spoken.

This reflects the vision of the Body of Christ in 1 Corinthians: if one member suffers, all suffer together. Community depends on both honesty and responsiveness.

Leadership was shared as well. Roles rotated. People were encouraged to step into leadership and grow through experience.

The church speaks of “equipping the saints,” but too often leadership remains concentrated in a few. What if leadership development were better woven into the fabric of congregational life?

Space as Sacred Commons

One of the more eye-opening insights for me was the community’s understanding of space.

The Main House at La’akea—its central gathering place—was held in common. No one could claim it. It belonged to everyone.

In churches, buildings, or certain spaces, can gradually become associated with particular groups or individuals. While understandable, this can create barriers.

What if we reclaimed our buildings as sacred commons—not just for members, but for the wider community? Not as something to protect, but as something to offer?

What Might Church Become?

La’akea does not look like church.

But it embodies something the church has always been called to be: a people shaped not only by belief, but by shared life. A people who listen deeply, speak honestly, care for one another, and trust that wisdom can emerge from the whole.

The invitation is not to abandon our traditions, but to rediscover their heart.

Perhaps the future of the church is not something entirely new, but something deeply ancient: a community where discernment matters more than winning, where leadership is shared and nurtured, where needs are spoken and met with compassion, and where daily life itself becomes a kind of liturgy.

The question is not whether such a church is possible.

The question is whether we are willing to practice our way into it.

Since September 2021, Rev. Bill Utke has been senior pastor of Desert Garden UCC, Sun City West, AZ. Beginning in 1993 he has served churches in Southern Illinois, Michigan and Wisconsin.

The Art of Eldering

by Amos Smith

The entire Christian tradition can be seen in terms of eldering. The witnesses in the Bible are our ancient elders, whose words mentor disciples through the ages. The early Christian community deferred to its elders, preserved their writings, learned and grew from their example.

When I attended Quaker Meetings for Worship during college days, the community clearly identified its elders. Quaker elders were also known as “Seasoned Friends.” The elders, who had been in the community a long time, had gathered around many crackling beach fires. They knew the life-giving stories. They’d been pummeled by life and survived to speak carefully chosen words of truth, sometimes as sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel. Elders were sought for council. The most wizened engaged in the delicate and humble art of puncturing peoples’ inflated egos in order to restore their souls.

A tragedy of America that is echoed throughout Hollywood and mass media is the supremacy of the teenager and young adult. Our culture reveres teens. We celebrate their vitality, enthusiasm, and beauty. There are many praiseworthy qualities of young adulthood, yet for a society to revere teens is backward. Teen role models would never go over in traditional societies found in Asia, South America, and elsewhere. In these societies the wizened elders are appropriately revered.

The sage, not the teen heartthrob, deserves the highest honor.

Restacking the Stones: one prophet’s lessons for revitalization

by Rev. Dr. William M. Lyons, Designated Conference Minister

Preached February 14, 2016 at Congregational Church of the Valley, Scottsdale, AZ

“On the tenth of Tevet, 425 BCE, Nebuchadnezzar [King of Babylon] began the siege of Jerusalem.

“Thirty months later, in the month of Tammuz, after a long siege during which hunger and epidemics ravaged the city, the city walls were breached.

“On the seventh day of Av, the chief of Nebuchadnezzar’s army, Nebuzaradan, began the destruction of Jerusalem. The walls of the city were torn down, and the royal palace and other structures in the city were set on fire.

“On the ninth day of Av, toward evening, the Holy Temple was set on fire and destroyed. The fire burned for 24 hours.

[Jewish] “Sages taught: When the first Holy Temple was destroyed, groups of young priests gathered with the keys to the Sanctuary in their hands. They ascended the roof and declared: “Master of the World! Since we have not merited to be trustworthy custodians, let the keys be given back to You.” They then threw the keys toward Heaven. A hand emerged and received them, and the priests threw themselves into the fire (Talmud, Ta’anit 29b).

Everything of gold and silver that still remained was carried off as loot by the Babylonian soldiers. All the beautiful works of art with which King Solomon had once decorated and ornamented the holy edifice … [t]he holy vessels of the Temple that could be found… The high priest Seraiah and many other high officials and priests were executed. … Many thousands of the people that had escaped the sword were taken prisoner and led into captivity in Babylon, where some of their best had already preceded them. Only the poorest of the residents of Jerusalem were permitted to stay on to plant the vineyards and work in the fields.

“Jeremiah, [who prophesied the destruction of Jerusalem], also promised that the Jewish people would return to Jerusalem and rebuild the Temple.”

Today’s reading from Ezra 1:1-4, 3:1-4, 10-13 is the beginning of that story.

“Thus says King Cyrus of Persia: The Lord, the God of heaven, has given me all the kingdoms of the earth, and he has charged me to build him a house at Jerusalem in Judah. Any of those among you who are of his people—may their God be with them!—are now permitted to go up to Jerusalem in Judah, and rebuild

God works in and through people not like me.

I notice first in today’s text that God speaks to people of different political and religious and ethnic and cultural heritages than the ones described in Scripture as Israel. God’s speaking isn’t limited to me, or people like me, or my religion, or my country, or my friends.

God has a long history of transforming people once enemies into friends. God has a long history of speaking through people and nations that appear on the list of ‘not God’s people,’ people we may have placed on the list of ‘not friends’ or even ‘enemies.’ God is at work in people not like me, in nations, cultures, and religions not our own, in circumstances apart from the expected!

Ezra 2:59ff tells the story of a group of people who wanted to go with the Jews to Jerusalem – people whose spirit God had stirred for the endeavor – but who could not prove that they were Jewish. These people, too, became part of the most important resource in accomplishing God’s tasks: people. Think of it, the all-powerful God who spoke into being the universe, the earth and everything in her, repeatedly chooses to work through people to accomplish the divine will rather than to speak it into being. And God was willing that any person who responded to the Spirit’s stirring should be included in the work of rebuilding the Temple.

What a powerful lesson for us in today’s world! In this time of hate and discrimination disguised as religious freedom, in this time of anti-Muslim vitriol, God’s speaking isn’t limited to us – to Christians, to evangelical Christians, to Americans.

In Ezra’s day, God proved that God is not limited to the religion or the followers of the religion revealed in the Judeo-Christian sacred texts. What would have happened if Ezra had taken the position that God could only speak through him, or people like him, or people of his cultural, religious, or national heritage? God’s activity in the world to bring us Jesus, divine activity that we celebrate this Advent season would have been halted in its tracks!

Essentials need immediate tending; everything else can wait awhile.

In the second year after their arrival at the house of God at Jerusalem, …10 When the builders laid the foundation of the temple of the Lord,

In the second year, not the first, not immediately. Later. After a time for adjustment. Lesson #2: Essentials need tending to immediately. Everything else can wait awhile. Sacrifices burned on the altar from the very beginning; in fact, sacrifices by ones who remained in Jerusalem probably never stopped. But the extras, like maintaining the building that was the Temple itself, could wait. 70 years it waited. And 2 more years it waited. Finally, after folks had established themselves in the new land, the new culture, the new religion, in their homes with their families, then they began work on the structure that was the Temple.

The first thing the returned exiles [did was] rebuild their own lives. They [did] not go straight to the task at hand. This is significant because it implies that God is interested in re-establishing people’s homes before God’s own temple. The priority is not to focus on the bricks and mortar of our faith, but in the re-establishing of right relationships with each other. [Families and the] community come first.

There is always a debate in doing mission work as to whether to fix people’s relationships with each other, with the land, with health or with justice before doing any work reconnecting people with God and faith. This story of Ezra seems to suggest that grounding ourselves in good relationships with each other comes before whatever the task at hand might be.[1]

The future isn’t supposed to be like the past.

The future cannot be like the past; it’s not supposed to be. Most of the people who had been taken into exile by the Babylonians had long died. Their children had children. And those children had children. While some of the exiles returning had seen Jerusalem in its last days, the majority of the people returning with Ezra were one or two-generations-removed from the Jerusalem and the Temple they were hoping to rebuild. Most of them had never lived in Jerusalem or sacrificed at the Temple or even seen the house of God they were commissioned to rebuild! It had been 70 years!! In terms of the Exodus story, that’s twice as long as it took the generation whom Moses led out of Egypt to die in the wilderness.

In that 70 years, without access to the Temple or the Altar, the Israelites had become the Jews. New traditions that weren’t in their Bible had developed. New theology and interpretations of Scripture had arisen. Judaism had been conceived. Of course the future was going to be different.

But that didn’t stop some people from grieving a past they couldn’t recreate instead of celebrating the future that they had the chance to birth.

10 When the builders laid the foundation of the temple of the Lord, the priests in their vestments were stationed to praise the Lord with trumpets, and the Levites…with cymbals, …11 and they sang responsively, “For [God] is good, for [God’s] steadfast love endures forever toward Israel.”

And all the people responded with a great shout when they praised the Lord, 12 But many of the priests and Levites and heads of families, old people who had seen the first house on its foundations, wept with a loud voice when they saw this house, though many shouted aloud for joy, 13 so that the people could not distinguish the sound of the joyful shout from the sound of the people’s weeping, for the people shouted so loudly that the sound was heard far away.

Ones who were grieving their inability to return to the past forgot that rebuilding is never about returning things to exactly the way they were. Rebuilding is about being sure the best of how it was shapes how it will be. And in our text the author says the ability to make that distinction is what separates ‘old people’ from ones who remain ‘young at heart’ forever.

The Jews in Ezra’s day were called to determine what it meant to live into a new future that God was actively creating in their midst. But what that future would look like was only beginning to emerge when the exiles returned, and with mixed results. The former glory of God’s presence and of the temple was lacking in this new iteration of the temple according to some. The new temple, moreover, was to be under the patronage of a foreign ruler (Cyrus), not an autochthonous ruler like Solomon or David. And finally, whereas Solomon’s temple was built while his kingdom was militarily strong (2 Chronicles 1:14-17), the new altar was established while this small band of Jews was still under threat (Ezra 3:3). The future, indeed, would not be the past. What gives continuity to the past, present, and future, however, is the faithfulness of God.

To be vital, to be faithful to the person and work of God, Ezra and the exiles had to see themselves and the events in their lives as God at work in their midst for their day.

Rebuilding is resource-intensive.

Rebuilding is a resource-demanding endeavor. Vv. 2-3 list people as the most important of those resources; v. 4 reminds us that rebuilding takes money and goods. Cyrus’s decree is honest about the investment rebuilding requires:

and let all survivors, in whatever place they reside, be assisted by the people of their place with silver and gold, with goods and with animals, besides freewill offerings for the house of God in Jerusalem.”

…everyone whose spirit God had stirred—got ready to go up and rebuild the house of the Lord in Jerusalem. All their neighbors aided them with silver vessels, with gold, with goods, with animals, and with valuable gifts, besides all that was freely offered. King Cyrus himself brought out the vessels of the house of the Lord that Nebuchadnezzar had carried away from Jerusalem and placed in the house of his gods. King Cyrus of Persia had them released into the charge of Mithredath the treasurer, who counted them out to Sheshbazzar …All these Sheshbazzar brought up, when the exiles were brought up from Babylonia to Jerusalem.

Churches evolve over time. People who are a church mature and die, and join as new members and move away. Children grow up. Pastors leave and pastors arrive. With those events, the ways in which a congregation relates to one another and relates to God evolve too. And every so often a decree comes forth, a door open for a church, in a big way, to be reconsidered, revalued, repurposed, reorganized, revitalized, re-resourced, rebuilt, and yes, sometimes even reposed. Every so often God stirs spirits for a new work. People are called to make choices about how they will, or if they will, participate in the make-over. Choices need to be made with intention and with prayerful discernment about what parts of the past and its traditions are so important they will be carried into the new future, and what parts of the past are ready to be laid to rest in order to realize that new future.  The question, then, is if and how you will be a resource for what God is actively doing among you.

God is at work in people not like me, in nations, cultures, and religions not our own, and in circumstances apart from the expected!

Essentials need immediate tending; everything else can wait awhile.

The future cannot be like the past; it’s not supposed to be.

Rebuilding is a resource-demanding; it takes everything all of us bring to the table.

How are these lessons from Ezra playing out in your life? In the life of your church? How can these lessons empower us to do new ministry that leads people to life-transforming experiences?  Will you be a contributor or a complication to the rebuilding effort? Amen.

 

[1] Spill the Beans. Issue 17, p. 23