“Hasten, Heavenly Father, the coming of your kingdom.”

I have been attending an Anglican church since being here in Kolkata. The pace of the service is different than any I have ever attended, and I have found something beautifully stable within the large, stain-glassed walls.

Sunday was a very bright, clear day, which is unusual because there is most often a layer of smog covering this city even when it’s sunny outside. As we walked toward the church, it was difficult to look at because it was so bright—the white of the outside shone. This is so contrary to every other building in Kolkata (besides the Victoria Memorial, of course).

Since I have been there for multiple Sundays, I am now getting to know the order of the service. Each week, there are more words in the liturgy that have resounded strongly with my heart.

Pausing for a brief moment after the service, I stared at the walls and paintings and windows inside the church. It’s beautiful and restful. I didn’t hear horns; I just heard the little birds that were inside. There were no crows. The wood of the pews, although dusty, is beautiful and old. I cherished the moment, and thought, this reminds me of the beauty and awesomeness of God. Not like the mountains do, but there is a sacredness within the church that reminds me God is sovereign and good.

And then the suffering and sights I see every day came pouring into my mind. A question rose in me: how can I relish this beauty when it seems so superficial to what is really happening outside?

But as my heart fluttered for a brief moment at the restlessness that wanted to stay, an answer came:

I can’t know God from going to church, singing hymns and reciting liturgy. I can only know God in as much as I know my neighbors in the world around me. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. I cannot love God without loving my neighbor.

But the beauty I see in the church is not superficial and being there at the church is not something I should feel guilty about. It’s not an avoidance of reality, which is what the lies going through my head wanted me to believe. As I sit in this beautiful cathedral in the midst of a city of poverty and suffering, I can for a brief moment hear a voice different than the world’s screaming voice.

If I know God only from inside a church, from simply sitting through sermon and liturgy for a lifetime, my knowledge and understanding of him will be thin and will bear no weight. But, these practices will teach me about God—what is right and true and good. Living outside the church building introduces me to a physical reality contrary to what God originally intended for his creation.

It’s the collision of truth about God and the physical day-to-day living that allows me to truly know God.

In church I can know about God's character; in the world I can see God's character. If I only am told his character from inside a safe place, no one who is in the dangerous places will believe me. If I only see the world without knowledge of God, I will have a very difficult time finding the true character of God. However, once I am told his character and can see him at work in the world, then I can truly know God.

The beauty of hymns and liturgy is that they have stood the test of time. What was true when the Nicene Creed was written is still true today. Over the centuries, the church as a whole has seen more injustice and inhumanity, whether outside its walls or within, than I will ever see in my lifetime, yet the words of the Nicene Creed have not changed. God has not changed.

Church is a beautiful place to go and remind myself of God’s character and goodness, especially when all throughout the week I am struggling not to believe what “reality” is trying to teach about God. Church is absolutely necessary; it anchors me in truth. In reciting words together with the body of believers here in Kolkata and, inevitably, with those around the world, I find strength.

On Sunday, I was reminded that God is with me in church. He is also with me in the metro. He is with me walking the streets. He is with the boys playing soccer and the girls going to school. He is with our beautiful women who work at Sari Bari. He is with our women who are still working the line. He is with the little girl who just got trafficked. He is with the men who buy our women. He is with the madams and pimps and crooked officials who perpetuate mercilessness.

When I walk in a world where there is no mercy, it is not only good but it is necessary for me to be reminded that the God I serve, He whose nature is to always have mercy, is everywhere.