Plan a funeral, or pray for resurrection.
For church leaders at this particular moment in the history and life of western Christianity, these are the presenting choices.
Businessman and author Max Depree once posited that it is the job of a leader to “define reality.” A daunting proposition, and crucially important, if so! But, before we presume to take on that job, the first task at hand for leadership (and all too relevant in an age of misinformation, “alternative facts” and algorithmic siloes) is simply to see, and acknowledge reality. And the reality - the plain data, the sociological math of the matter - is that over the course of the last fifty years the American Church has fallen into a state of “irreversible decline”. The numbers are in, and what they demonstrate is, frankly, an ecclesiastical, statistical, extinction curve. Pastoring today is a deathbed ministry.
I understand: this is not a popular observation to make out loud. And, anecdotally - individually and/or on a congregation-by-congregation basis — one may or may not experience or feel this to be true. But, if and when we lift our eyes to consider the whole, the data speaks loudly.
If we’re being honest, we know this. This isn’t particularly new information. Those of us who love the Church and are concerned with her future have been quietly wringing our hands over the Pew and Barna and monthly (nevermind weekly) attendance numbers for years, now. But, it is still striking to actually look at the situation; to acknowledge and name it for what it is.
Here in the U.S., between 1987 and 2022, the seven major denominations which make up the Protestant “mainline” have declined by an average of 50%. Half. Over the course of 35 years. And that “curve” has been steepening. Mathematically, this indicates that well within my lifetime, we can expect that American mainline protestantism - United Methodist, American Baptist, Episcopal, PC USA, etc. - will effectively cease to exist.
“Evangelicals” (a relatively newer movement) have been somewhat slower to reach this statistical drop-off, tempting some within this camp to wax self-righteous about the failings of theological liberalism, perhaps even welcoming its demise. But, we must consider: each of these denominations were at one time born as expressions of great spiritual renewal, revival. These are not objects to mock when they fail, but to grieve. And - “take heed, lest ye fall…” - the “curve” is coming for Evangelicals, too.
Consider just one noteworthy metric: the percentage of high school seniors who report attending religious services at least once a month. In 1976, this stood at roughly 60%, nationally. In 2020, less than 35% of 12th graders could say the same. (Source: “Monitoring the Future” youth study) Note: this is across all religious traditions, denominations, and expressions. Millennials (born 1981-1996) very briefly held the designation of “least churched generation in history”, only to be quickly dethroned by Gen-Z (born 1997-2012); the (new) least scripturally engaged, most traumatized, lonely, depressed and generally mentally unwell generation that our nation has ever seen. The “kids”, as they say, aren’t alright. And, neither is the Church. The task of leadership begins with acknowledging this reality.
To be clear, we haven’t come to find ourselves in this state for lack of trying. Pastor Jon Tyson (Church of the City, NYC) remarks, “In the American Church, we’ve tried everything: better programs, better practices, better personalities. We’ve seen the most polished version of Evangelicalism that man can build… and it’s led us to a place of irreversible decline.”
As I was contemplating these things in prayer recently, I was struck by the profound pastoral implications of this moment. Faced with living and leading amidst the statistical “extinction curve” of American Christianity, I realized that the pastoral vocation essentially bifurcates into a choice between two ways of understanding and approaching our ministry. We are - all of us - either hospice ministers, or revivalists. We are either ministering as a faithful, caring presence alongside the deathbed of the American Church, helping her pass away with as much dignity and grace as possible, or we are hair-on-fire intercessors, beating on the doors of Heaven to cry out for renewal.
We’re either planning a funeral, or praying - fervently, earnestly, continually - for resurrection.
And here is the conviction that has determined my choice in the matter: I know what the math says, but I know what my GOD says, all the more. I know that redemptive history comes to us in waves of renewal, and decline, and renewal. I know that what the math of the last 50 years presents as a path to statistical extinction is simply another valley of vitality, inviting the people of God to meet the spiritual urgency of our moment with the renewed hunger of our hearts, our communities, our regions, in prayer. I know that the Lord will not leave Himself without a witness in this generation, and I am committed to be among them. I know the “If/Then” promises of God, ( “IF my people who are called by my name humble themselves, and pray and seek my face…”) and there is a burning in my bones that we should claim them, in our day.
Tyson continues his observation: “We’ve seen the best (Church) that man can build… but we have yet to see the best that God can build.”
There it is.
I’m not ready to plan a funeral, yet. I’m longing, praying, asking and expecting that God’s best work is yet to come. Revive us, O Lord!