The Church-Hospital Analogy

May 11, 2025

I’ve often heard the metaphor of Christian churches as hospitals — places where many, if not most, who attend are broken or in need. It’s a metaphor frequently used in defense of the church when it’s criticized for hypocrisy, especially considering how many have experienced hurt within church communities or church hurt.

Not to mention the common phrase hurt people hurt people, if we view churches through the lens of hospitals, it becomes clear that expecting its members to be flawless misses the point. Just as we don’t expect hospital patients to arrive in good health, we shouldn’t expect churchgoers to be in good health of the spirit.

This analogy is something I can relate to, holding a long history of working at various hospitals as an x-ray/CT tech.

Double-Edged Swords

The analogy, however, can be taken further, revealing deeper questions about the nature of both hospitals and churches — and how both can be double-edged swords.

Both hospitals and churches exist because they clearly serve a purpose — hospitals are designed (or intended) to treat and heal people, while churches are meant to hold together believers in Christ.

But neither hospitals nor churches are perfect. A study from PubMed Central found that 1 in 20 patients in U.S. hospitals experience at least one adverse event unrelated to their original condition, such as hospital-acquired infections or errors. Beyond health risks, both institutions can impose financial strain — hospitals through overwhelming medical bills, and some churches through pressure to give large tithes, which can feel transactional or manipulative rather than freely offered.

Jesus-followers mess up too. We must take into account though that built into the Christian framework is the acknowledgement that we are inherently imperfect and prone to error — hence the need for Christ, who stands in as the perfect being on our behalf.

That said, I maintain that both hospitals and churches continue to hold important roles in society. However, I also acknowledge that certain forms or aspects of each may not be well-suited for those seeking healing — whether physically ill patients or even Christ-followers.

Many people feel disconnected from or skeptical of aspects of the modern medical system, and the same can be said for churches. For instance, some distrust the psychiatric field and its reliance on mental health pharmaceuticals, believing there are more holistic or effective approaches to mental well-being. This skepticism often extends to large institutions — Big Pharma — and similarly, institutions like the Catholic or Orthodox Church can be viewed through the same critical lens as “Big Church.”

Big Church

At Big Church, one is expected to conform to a fixed ritual tradition — a singular, procedural method much like a hospital’s protocol. For example, in the Orthodox tradition, dancing within the church is strictly prohibited, despite numerous positive biblical references to dance as a form of worship (Psalm 149:3, Psalm 150:4, 2 Samuel 6:14).

Big Church often feels more like a museum — something to observe but not engage with. It becomes a “look but don’t touch” environment where the body is subdued, and freedom of physical expression is limited. The experience can feel passive, almost like watching something on a screen, lacking a sense of embodiment and lived participation.

That said, this structured approach may be exactly what some people need in their lives. The order and predictability can offer a sense of stability, and for some, it actually makes prayer more accessible. But as an artist, I find myself needing a space with more freedom of expression such as is witnessed in some black churches throughout the USA.

The Sterilizing Effect

Like hospitals, churches can undergo a kind of sterilizing effect. We witnessed this during the 2020 pandemic, which triggered a response akin to an autoimmune reaction — an aggressive clean/attack approach that, in trying to eliminate all threats, ended up harming even the healthy. In its hyper-cautious measures to eradicate the virus, the pandemic imposed restrictions that affected nearly every aspect of life. One dramatic example: in the U.S., many hospitals postponed cancer treatments in order to keep facilities as empty as possible and reduce viral spread. But in doing so, according to the American Association for Cancer Research, these delays through predictive analysis have shown a potential 30% decrease in 5-year survival rates. These kinds of sacrifices were widespread.

Similarly, Big Church has made their own kinds of sacrifices. For some, the push toward sterility in such spaces feels like it drains the life out of everything. The “my way or the highway” approach often alienates people — and to be clear, this isn’t about straying from Scripture. Rather, there are countless ways to worship that remain faithful to both the Gospels and Paul’s letters.

What then shall we say, brothers and sisters? When you come together, each of you has a hymn, or a word of instruction, a revelation, a tongue or an interpretation. Everything must be done so that the church may be built up. — Paul (1 Corinthians 14:26)

This verse shows that early church worship wasn’t rigid but encouraged creative, spontaneous expression. Instead of a top-down model, Paul describes a gathering like an open mic, with each member contributing to build up the community.

This participatory model of worship reflects a dynamic, responsive approach — one that resonates with those longing for a more personal and less institutionalized faith experience. Just as many turn to alternative medicine for more holistic or culturally-aligned care, others seek house churches or artistic forms of worship for a more embodied, authentic, and spiritually resonant experience.

Ending Thoughts

The church-hospital analogy offers more than a defense against accusations of hypocrisy — it opens discussion regarding the strengths and shortcomings of both institutions. While both serve essential roles in healing — one physical, the other spiritual — they also carry risks when they become overly rigid, impersonal, or sterilized. For some, structure offers comfort; for others, it restricts growth and expression. The early church modeled a participatory, Spirit-led form of worship. In both faith and medicine, we must continually ask not only what is being done, but how — and whether the spaces intended for healing are truly fostering life, connection, and transformation.