Would Jesus Hang Out at an AA Meeting (Part 2 of 2)
The thought lingers: would Jesus be more at home in an AA meeting than in many of our church small groups? And if so, what does that reveal about us as His followers?
Imagine the scene again. The musty basement room, the circles of mismatched chairs, the steady hum of a tired dehumidifier. A first-timer nervously fidgets, glancing around the room, unsure whether they belong. The meeting begins, and each voice that speaks echoes with raw honesty: addiction, regret, shame, hope. No one flinches. No one pretends. The room is alive with a strange and beautiful paradox: brokenness and belonging, coexisting side by side.
Isn’t this what Jesus invites us into? A community where masks come off, burdens are shared, and grace meets us in our weakness? Yet, as much as this vision resonates with the gospel, many Christians find it easier to be vulnerable in a support group meeting than in a church group. Why?
Why do people go outside the church to find a safe place to share their personal struggles?
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that 35% of Christians feel that churches are not safe places to be vulnerable about personal struggles, citing concerns about gossip, judgment, or lack of understanding.
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that 66% of churchgoers feel pressured to present a "perfect image" at church, creating barriers to authenticity.
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that 44% of Christians fear being judged if they admit struggles within their church. Among women and Millennials, this percentage rises to over 50%.
These statistics reveal a troubling pattern: the very people who should feel safest in the body of Christ often feel the most afraid.
One man’s story illustrates this tension vividly. After a recent Unbound Grace support group meeting, a gentleman who struggles with alcohol misuse and faithfully attends both his church and small group commented on how real and authentic the meeting felt. He admitted, “I didn’t realize how refreshing and encouraging this environment was.” When asked if he had ever shared his struggles in his church small group, his response was heartbreaking: “Absolutely not. They would eat me alive and probably kick me out of the group.”
What a devastating testimony. Here was a man who longed for grace but feared condemnation from the very people called to embody it.
So, what do we do? How can we reclaim this space within the church for grace and authentic community?
Consider this challenge: if no one in your group is sharing raw, messy struggles—the kind that makes you pause and ask, “What do I say now?”—it may not be the safe space you think it is. It’s easy to mistake “checking in” for deep care, or shaming someone into silence for “holding them accountable.” If people in your group only share struggles that feel manageable, it may be because the real battles—the addictions, the doubts, the painful failures—don’t feel safe to bring into the light.
What if instead, someone confessed, “I’m drowning in _________” or “I’m not sure I believe in God anymore,” and their words were met, not with judgment or platitudes, but with love that said, “You’re not alone. We’re here, no matter what”?
Emmanuel—God With Us
Would Jesus go to a support group meeting? Absolutely. He wouldn’t sit on the sidelines but in the circle—as Emmanuel, God with us. He’d listen, encourage, and remind everyone there that their brokenness doesn’t define them. And, in true Jesus fashion, He’d probably invite the group to dinner afterward (at someone else’s house).
This is the Jesus we follow—the one who steps into the mess of our lives, who meets us in our weakness and transforms it through His grace. So, let’s ask ourselves: are we willing to follow Him there?
Paul’s words in Galatians 6:2 call us to “bear one another’s burdens.” This doesn’t mean fixing people or shaming them into better behavior. It means carrying the weight with them, saying, “Your weakness doesn’t exclude you—it’s why you belong.”
Consider this truth: “Hi, my name is John, and I’m a sinner and a saint.” In Christ, brokenness isn’t the end of the story—it’s the beginning of redemption. God’s power is made perfect in weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9), especially in spaces where weakness can be shared without fear.