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(OPINION) Somebody asked recently whether I ever “recycle” old newspaper columns and sermons by using them again. I think that was a tactful way of asking if I ever find myself repeating myself like the proverbial stuck record (if you’re old enough to remember what a record player was).

Yes, I admitted. I do repeat myself.

Sometimes I repeat myself intentionally, because I’ve previously dealt with an issue I think is worth revisiting. Other times I repeat myself because I’ve preached and written so much I forget I’ve already said exactly the same thing a dozen times. (Just ask my wife.)

Frankly, after 45 years of preaching and 35 years of newspaper writing, I find it impossible not to repeat myself. Nobody knows enough stuff to keep offering something brand new every week for that long. Or at least I don’t know enough.

I’m telling you this because I’m about to repeat myself. Intentionally, in this case.

A couple of months ago, I wrote about the precipitous decline in U.S. churchgoing. It’s such a monumental decline that it’s probably the most important religious development of this century.

It has implications not just for organized religion, but for our whole society, because despite their faults — and they are legion — houses of worship really do help undergird society’s charitable and moral mindset. They remind us that the poor and sick matter. They show us that right differs from wrong. At their best, they guide us toward a deeper relationship with our maker.

Among other things, I focused before on a Washington Post report that examined current churchgoing numbers.

Although 21% to 24% of us say we attend services regularly, research tracking people’s actual behavior shows that, in fact, the number may be as small as 5%, or 1 person in 20. Worse, the 5% statistic is based on research conducted before the COVID-19 pandemic devastated religious attendance even further. So, Lord knows what the real numbers would be now.

A growing number of people describe themselves as “spiritual but not religious,” meaning they believe in God or a higher power but generally don’t follow an organized religion. Pew Research says that describes 22% of U.S. adults — roughly four times the number who regularly go to church, given that 5% statistic.

But as I’ve argued for years, being spiritual on your own isn’t enough. I located a column I wrote in 2015 — speaking of repeating myself — that outlined a half-dozen arguments for why believers need to join a congregation of like-minded pilgrims.

Here’s a lightly edited version of that. You’re welcome.

— Faith is as much horizontal as vertical. It’s not all about you. It’s not even all about you and God. It’s equally about God, you and others.

We don't join a religion only for what we get from the experience (although we get a great deal) but also for what we can bring. We go to church to worship, yes. But we also go to share our gifts, insights and money with others — and to benefit from their gifts.

— Your fellow parishioners will infuriate and disappoint you. This is an important perquisite of being in a church — encountering the tacky humanity of your fellow saints. They’ll fail morally. They’ll sing off-key. They’ll act petulantly. Some will even smell bad.

Glory to God! This is wonderful — if you stick around. Guess what? It’ll turn out that you’ll fail them, too. You may even reek on occasion.

Over time, all this irritation will help you grow into a spiritually mature adult. You’ll learn to forgive others’ foibles and admit your own. You’ll learn to depend on the Lord for help.

— Your fellow parishioners will teach and inspire you. While it’s true that some of the most spiteful, vainglorious people you’ll ever meet are in church, the finest people you’ll meet are there, too.

As you learn your brothers’ and sisters’ stories, you’ll discover new friends who’ve conquered addiction, prison, bankruptcy, divorce and illnesses, and come out the other side redeemed. Damaged, but wiser and kinder.

—  You can do more as part of a group than you can alone. Whatever the benevolent works you’d like to perform — feeding the hungry, let’s say — you can accomplish 50 or 100 times greater as part of a congregation.

Plus, there's something eye-opening, even humbling, about working for the greater good as part of a team, whether you’re renovating a house for a widow or distributing shoes to the barefoot.

— You’ll meet some hypocrites. Personally, I find the “I don’t go to church because it’s full of hypocrites” excuse the lamest of them all. Of course the church is full of hypocrites —  because it’s full of human beings.

It's a rare person who never says one thing and does another, who never criticizes his neighbor for a vice of which he’s equally guilty. That’s how humans act, within or without the church.

I’m willing to lay money you’re a hypocrite. At church you’ll find lots of kindred spirits. You’ll even meet a few hypocrites who are doing their dangedest to reform.

— You’ll discover grace. The longer and more intensely you participate in a congregation, the more convinced you’ll become of two truths: First, we’re all hopeless. Second, God loves, accepts and uses hopeless people.

Paul Prather has been a rural Pentecostal pastor in Kentucky for more than 40 years. Also a journalist, he was The Lexington Herald-Leader’s staff religion writer in the 1990s, before leaving to devote his full time to the ministry. He now writes a regular column about faith and religion for the Herald-Leader, where this column first appeared. Prather’s written four books. You can email him at pratpd@yahoo.com.