Schrödinger's Church of Mushrooms

The Church that Appears, Disappears, and is Always Alive

I’m not going to lie, this one sounds like a scene from Alice in Wonderland but the connection between quantum physics, mycelial growth and the body of Christ is one that I think you’ll find compelling. So, down the rabbit hole we go.

Schrödinger’s Church of Mushrooms

The church that appears, disappears, and is always alive

There is a paradox at the heart of the church that mirrors one of the strangest puzzles in quantum physics: Schrödinger’s cat. In this thought experiment, a cat in a sealed box is said to be both alive and dead—until someone opens the box and observes it. The act of seeing collapses the possibilities into a single outcome.

So it is with the church.

When we look at it—gather in a building, sing, preach, serve—it takes shape. It becomes something real. But when we look away, it does not simply remain unchanged. It changes form. It moves. It disappears and reappears elsewhere. The church, like the cat, resists being pinned down.

The Local Church as Ephemeral Expression

The local church, in this view, is not the entirety of the church, but a momentary manifestation. Like a mushroom emerging after summer rain, the local church springs up visibly in a particular place and time. It is nourishing. Tangible. A gift. But it is not the root system. It is only the fruit.

Beneath the mushroom lies the true organism—the mycelial network. Sprawling, underground, organic. It moves silently beneath the surface, discerning where to bear fruit. The mushroom appears only when the network wills and conditions are ripe. And after it is harvested—eaten, taken in, digested—it disappears again. The nourishment remains, but the form changes.

The danger comes when a mushroom harvest is plentiful, and someone builds a stall, a permanent booth to mark the spot. People begin gathering there not for nourishment, but nostalgia. They say, “This is where the life is,” even though the life has long since moved. They try to preserve the mushroom, but forget the network.

We are not called to the stall. We are called to follow the mushrooms.

The local church is not our destination. It is our nourishment. It is the place where the fruit of the Spirit breaks through into visible form. But it must be eaten, internalized, and carried within us. And we must always be willing to see it sprout up again somewhere else—among other people, in other forms, in soil we did not expect.

The Global Church as Permeating Presence

What we call the “global church” is not global because it is everywhere like a brand or franchise. It is global because it permeates. It is not a position but a presence. The global church is not the collection of all local churches—it is the life that runs through them, the mycelium under the surface, the breath of the Spirit hovering over the waters.

We think of global as wide. But in truth, it is deep.

It moves like wind through trees—we do not see it, but we see what it stirs. It forms like ripples across water, revealing movement even when the cause remains hidden. It maps like constellations, where scattered lights become visible when the lines of love and faith connect them into something more.

Not Doctrinal Alignment, But Righteousness

The visibility of the church is not determined by what people believe in theory, but by the fruit they bear. The Spirit does not manifest as correct theology, but as righteousness, peace, and joy. The church becomes visible where these are made flesh.

“By this all people will know that you are my disciples: if you love one another.” -Jn 13:35 ESV
“Faith without works is dead.” -Jas 2:26 ESV
“The kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power.” -1 Cor 4:20 NIV

We do not recognize the church by signage, polity, or profession. We recognize it by the outward working of inner life—by the healing of wounds, the lifting of burdens, the reconciliation of enemies, the sharing of bread, the tending of the least.

The church is not what we claim; it is what we move. It manifests not in what we build, but in the righteousness that flows from us.

Movement, Leadership, and Mission

If the church is a moving organism, a quantum mystery, a fruiting body of righteousness—then leadership is not about controlling or preserving what has been. Leadership is about perceiving where the life is moving, and helping others notice and respond.

Structure must follow Spirit. Form must follow fruit. Mission is not about expansion, but about attentiveness—about recognizing where love is breaking through and joining it, not manufacturing it.

The goal of the church is not to sustain its visibility, but to participate in its movement. Like disciples who follow a rabbi with no place to lay his head, we are always being invited away from comfort and into responsiveness. Into the next sprouting of mushrooms. Into the next movement of mercy.

The Absence of the Mushroom Police

In the ecosystem of Schrödinger’s Church, no one stands guard over who partakes in the mushrooms. There are no fences, no velvet ropes, no Mushroom Police checking theological credentials or scanning hearts for purity before letting someone taste of the fruit. The mushroom grows where the mycelium wills, and anyone who happens upon it is free to gather, to eat, to be nourished.

This breakdown of surveillance is not an oversight—it is the nature of the network. The righteousness that flowers into fellowship is not administered from above but breaks through the soil from below. It cannot be managed, franchised, or certified, and it will not conform to our self-imposed restrictions on who gets to belong. If someone tastes and is nourished, they belong. They do not belong because they believe the right things or say the right prayers—they belong because they are eating from the same living mycelium that gives rise to righteousness, joy, and peace in the Holy Spirit (Romans 14:17).

This is the undoing of our sectarian impulses. If the mushroom appears in the forest, we do not first ask, “Is it theologically safe?” before we gather. Nor do we vet our companions at the table of wild fruit. If they are nourished, then the Church is there. If love is growing, then Christ is present.

It is not that doctrine is unimportant, but that doctrine is fruitless without the nourishment of the hidden life below. The Kingdom of God is not found in managing access to mushrooms. It is found in watching who has been nourished and following the roots back to their source.

The Church That Is Always Alive

So we return to Schrödinger’s box. The church is not alive or dead based on our observation. It is always alive—but it takes different forms. It lives underground, it breaks through the surface, it disappears again. And all the while, it nourishes those with eyes to see and hearts to receive.

It is never static. It is always personal. It is always moving. And most of all, it is always Christ’s.