For the first seven years of my life, we lived in a small town on the Mississippi River, and most Sundays included a family gathering. After church, we’d gather at my grandma’s house. My dad, one of six siblings, was part of an extended family with more cousins than I could count. The kitchen soon filled with casseroles, chicken, pies, and Jell-O while the sound of football played in the background. Laughter echoed as we played at a nearby park, and the sense of belonging was palpable.

As years passed and family members moved away, our gatherings became less common. When my grandma died, it felt like the end of an era, but the bonds we made have remained strong—much like the unbreakable ties that God gives his people. Though I have moved to Chicago to embrace new surroundings, I still miss those gatherings at times.

When I go back to that small town today, it’s often for funerals, and yet as our family members gather again, it feels as if no time has passed. We pick up familiar conversations, share stories, and laugh, just as God’s family does when gathered in his presence.

“Family” should be a verb. It’s about gathering, sharing meals, talking, praying together, and supporting one another. God's people are called to “family,” actively living in community and love.