I’ve been watching something unfold in today’s churches—not on platforms or in pulpits, but in the quiet absences. The disappearing faces. The silent pews. The unanswered questions: Where is Brother So-and-So? What happened to that sister who used to sing with such fire?

And while the choir still sings, and the offering baskets still pass, something feels missing. A cry—not loud, but persistent—is rising beneath the liturgy. A hunger not for songs or sermons, but for shepherding.

And it reminded me.

When Brother James Disappeared

Years ago, I knew a man named Brother James Uddah. A faithful warder in the church. Quiet. Accountable. Always at the door with a respectful nod and a servant’s heart. I made it a point to greet him every Sunday, because some souls deserve to be seen.

Then I left for college. Three months later, I returned—and he was gone.

No explanations. No farewells. Just silence. I asked around. No one had a clear answer. So I followed the trail—to his last known address, where I learned he had been evicted. Jobless. Homeless. Separated from his wife and children. I later found him living in a makeshift hut near the bus terminus.

This same man who once watched over God’s house now had no house of his own.

And I wondered: Where was the Church?

The Church That Remembers

But even in that same congregation, I witnessed something that flickered like light through cracked stone. A sister, abandoned by her husband for her steadfast faith, was cast out into the street at midnight.

But her story didn’t end in shame.

Within a day, the Charismatic Renewal Movement sprang into action. They searched for her husband. They tried to reconcile. When that failed, one sister took her in. Then—together—they rented her an apartment, paid for a full year, and secured her a job through one of their own.

This is what the Church looks like when it remembers its staff and crook. When it embodies the Shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine to find the one (Luke 15:4).

The Shepherd’s Tools Are Not for Show

A shepherd’s staff guides; a crook rescues. They are not decorative. They are functional.

“Be sure you know the condition of your flocks; give careful attention to your herds.” (Proverbs 27:23)

Where is the Church that knows when one of its sheep is missing?

Where is the Church that doesn’t require receipts before it responds—doesn’t ask, “Was he a tither? Was she a registered member?”—but simply responds because they are ours?

Rules or Relationships?

Some say, “He didn’t marry in our church.”
Some add, “His wife wasn’t a member.”
Others whisper, “He stopped giving.”

And so we silently justify neglect.

But this is not the gospel. This is not the early Church.

“There were no needy persons among them.” (Acts 4:34)
“Carry each other’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2)
“Whoever shuts their ears to the cry of the poor will also cry out and not be answered.” (Proverbs 21:13)

The Call to Be Our Brother’s Keeper

If we are merely a crowd, then attendance matters more than presence. But if we are family, then no loss goes ungrieved. No sheep goes unfound.

Let us become:

• The church that sees who’s missing.
• The movement that moves when calamity strikes.
• The shepherds who reach out, not write off.
• The disciples who love in action, not just in word.

And if your church won’t walk this road with you? Find another. Or gather under a tree and build your altar there. Hah! Because where two or more are gathered in His name, He is already there (Matthew 18:20).

So, where is the Church?

Let her be found in the field, not the boardroom. At the bedside, not just the podium. With the broken, not just the brilliant.

Because if we forget our crook, we will lose our credibility.

And if we forget Brother James, we risk forgetting Jesus Himself.

“Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.” (Matthew 25:45)