17 minute read
LOST AND FOUND: A MILLENNIAL’S RETURN TO THE CHURCH
Kiersten Banks
In their book, Starting a House Church, Kreider and McClung share a study on church attendance completed in 2007. The findings showed that although the U.S. population grew 13.2 percent from 1900 to 2000, church attendance only increased by 3 percent. Based on their findings, they estimated that by 2020, only 14% of Americans would attend church at all, and that by 2050, the percentage would be under 10%.1
A post-pandemic study performed by Gallup explains that “Americans have been less likely to attend religious services over the past three years, and … it does not appear that church attendance will revert to pre-pandemic levels.”2 Though the reasons for this vary from person to person, according to sources like Survey Center on American Life,3 Comfort Tek,4 and the Pew Research Center,5 the reasons people–especially millennials and younger–are leaving the church in droves can be summed up in three categories (in no particular order):
1. Personal harm done by the church.
2. Misalignment with personal values.
3. Feeling a lack of personal contribution.
Most pastors might not have these reasons at the top of their list of why people don’t attend church. And I think that’s because from the inside looking out, it can be hard for many pastors and church leaders to see from the perspective of the “lost sheep.”6 If we’re honest, it’s easier to assume that it has more to do with the non-attendee’s laziness or indifference.
After all, holding that assumption and doing little else is a whole lot easier than sitting across the table from a person and listening to his/her story. Though the desire to fill our churches often comes from a sincere longing to love and serve God’s people, most of us find ourselves at a loss for where to even begin. But what if the solution isn’t figuring out a new and improved program or ministry, but something much more elementary?
A Millennial's Church Story
My father pastored a small Pentecostal church in a rural town in South Carolina. I can still picture the wooden pews and cerulean blue carpet—the best décor the ’90s had to offer. I remember the comforting scent of the sanctuary, reminiscent of an old book. Like all good Pentecostals, we waved hand-sewn flags and never missed an opportunity to play the tambourine loud and offbeat. The high energy of passionate praise and prayer is a familiar feeling to me. But more than any of that, I can still see the faces of the people in our congregation.
My father pastored a small Pentecostal church in a rural town in South Carolina.
I particularly loved when my dad let me join him for home visits. If visiting Brother and Sister Davis was on the day’s agenda, I would count down the hours until school let out and I made sure to bring my baby doll along—Sister Davis would certainly want an update on how my baby was doing. Though housebound, she was often busy with a crochet project and would ask me what my baby might need. Did she need dresses, diapers, hats, or a blanket? Christmas came early the day she gifted me a granny-square blanket she had made just for me. Twenty-five years later, that blanket still lives in my attic.
I remember Sister Davis weakly lifting her hands in worship as we stood by her bedside just days before her passing. At only six years old, it was the first time I witnessed the peace that comes with dependence on Jesus. I felt a deep, unfamiliar sadness at her funeral. The concept of death was blurry to me at that age, but the assurance that she was with Jesus, and that I would see her again, was easy to believe. Years later, when I took up crocheting, I often thought of her. These early experiences shaped my faith and were among the reasons I enjoyed being a pastor’s daughter.
However, I quickly learned that not everyone was like Sister Davis. Just as easily as I can picture that bright blue carpet, I can recall the financial instability of pastoring in a small town, the impossible expectations placed on both my mother and father, and the tension it put on their marriage that ultimately led to divorce. Though my parents did their best to shield me from the challenges that unfolded behind the scenes of ministry, at just ten years old I became acutely aware of the strain of pastoring, with its potential to wreak havoc on a person’s mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being.
Even still, I found myself in ministry early in life. Serving as a worship director in our multi-generational Free Methodist congregation required careful song selection to keep everyone simultaneously satisfied. You could be sure that the less-than satisfied congregants would make their complaints known. Volunteering as a youth pastor and in women’s ministry through my twenties called on the same skills of finding new and improved ways to keep everyone interested and engaged, all while doing my best to navigate the hierarchy and politics of church leadership.
My story is not uncommon, but after experiencing more than one form of abuse inside the walls of the church, I crumbled under the constant pressure to adhere, perform, and produce. By my late twenties, the church seemed to mostly be a place that ruthlessly took from me, with no concern for the damage it left behind. Confused, I was left thinking, “This can’t be what God is really like.” In early 2023, my husband and I started to think that church was not for us.
In the months that followed this revelation, Psalm 23 became the only Scripture I felt able to stomach. My morning routine included making a cup of coffee, lighting a candle next to my favorite chair, and reading the Psalmist’s words again: “Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life.”7 Candles weren’t a part of our church tradition outside of a Christmas Eve service. Though I didn’t fully understand it, lighting that taper candle, morning after morning, felt like one small thing that somehow helped me connect with God.
My story is not uncommon, but after experiencing more than one form of abuse inside the walls of the church, I crumbled under the constant pressure to adhere, perform, and produce.
During this season, I remembered a church in our town that I had been curious about years prior but had never worked up the nerve to visit. It was a Lutheran church, after all—who knows what in the world we’d hear there? Nevertheless, I went to the one place I knew I could find all of the answers – Google. Through minimal research, I found their livestream on Facebook. The idea of attending a brand-new church in person was completely overwhelming, but listening and learning the order of service from the safety of my home felt more accessible. Every Sunday, for several weeks, I tuned in.
At the end of each service, the pastor would quote a portion of Scripture I knew very well: “In the night in which He was betrayed, our Lord took bread, broke, and blessed it…”8 I’d watch from my chair by my candle as he called every single member by name. “The body and blood of Jesus, given and shed for you.” Mysteriously, I would choke back tears. I couldn’t make sense of it, but I knew that I wanted whatever it was that was being given in the exchanges I was witnessing.
Several weeks later, my husband and I walked into Reformation Lutheran Church in Culpeper, Virginia. Our plan was to slip in, hopefully unnoticed, and slip right back out. We’d unknowingly shown up during Sunday School. From the front of the sanctuary, Pastor Brad noticed us in the hallway, clearly lost. He stopped what he was doing and enthusiastically said, “Kiersten, come on in!” Having only had one encounter with the man, I could not believe he remembered my name—much less pronounced it correctly. We stayed through Sunday School until the service began.
As worship started, I watched as the acolyte lit the candles, just as I had done by myself for months. This simple, routine act to the members of this church was, to me, a comforting and sure sign that God was here with me. Every time I felt unsteady or unsure as worship continued, I’d focus my attention on one of the flames.
We chatted with Pastor Brad after the service. Though we told him we were looking around at churches, it wasn’t entirely true. Honestly, we had mustered up all of our courage just to walk through the doors of this one.
“There are so many great churches in Culpeper,” he responded. “Visit all of them! See where the Spirit is leading you!”
We had never been to a Lutheran church, but we had most certainly never had a pastor encourage us to try out other churches while we were standing inside of theirs. The general rule of thumb was that once you got people in the door, you did whatever you could to keep them there. We didn’t know how to respond, but the freedom to go somewhere else ended up being one of the things that made us want to come back.
“There are so many great churches in Culpeper,” he responded. “Visit all of them! See where the Spirit is leading you!”
After attending a month’s worth of Saturday night services, we asked Pastor Brad if we could set up a time to meet with him. A few days later, we sat down at a tiny table in a local restaurant and cautiously shared our story with him over cheeseburgers and fries. Then, like bracing for a punch to the gut, we waited for a lecture full of empty platitudes to come.
“You know, Cody and Kiersten, it sounds like in your experience with church, you’ve had to live under a lot of legalism. Like a lot of it has been up to you.” My husband and I, cutting eyes at each other, nodded our heads in agreement. He went on, “I want you to know, that isn’t the gospel. In the kingdom, we get in on God’s riches at Christ’s expense. It’s through the free gift of faith, not by anything we do.”
I didn’t know it then, but in a few short sentences, the gospel had just been preached to me—not in a pristine sanctuary but while I was dipping my last few fries in ketchup. It was good news that I had never heard before, even though I was no stranger to the church.
A few weeks later, we decided to attend what the church called a “ministry fair.” Each ministry at Reformation set up tables with posters, pictures, and information about what they offered. I was curious, but I was not going to be joining a ministry. That much was certain. Nevertheless, we slowly walked around the room, taking in each of the unique displays. At one of the last tables, an older woman in a wheelchair sat beside a table full of quilt samples, prayer cloths, and crochet projects. She reminded me of Sister Davis. We struck up a conversation, and she explained that she was part of the quilting and crochet ministry. “We’re in desperate need of knitters and crocheters,” she told me. I mentioned that crocheting was one of my favorite hobbies and that I’d love to help, but I didn’t have much time to offer.” Oh, if you were to crochet one prayer shawl this whole year, it would be one more than we have! There is absolutely no pressure.” Somehow, I heard myself joyfully agreeing to help and started on a project the next week. Slowly looping one stitch at a time made me feel like I was a part of something—even as someone who had no idea where, or if, she belonged in the body of Christ.
We continued to attend church, and week after week, I’d take a deep breath as the candles were lit. I’d repeat in my mind, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” I’d confess my sins and receive absolution. I’d rest in the words of each song and hear the preaching of the gospel. I’d memorize a little more of the Apostles’ Creed. I’d hear again, “Kiersten, the body and blood of Jesus, given and shed for you,” and focus on the taste of the wafer and the wine. All the while, without my effort or recognition, faith was growing in me.
As the months went on, without warning, I began to wonder—what if I went to seminary? If it was possible for the church to be anything like what I had experienced in the last year, I wanted to be a part of it. We weren’t coerced to join, pushed into ministries, or guilted into attending. We were simply welcomed—exactly as we were. It was grace that motivated us to stay and become involved, not shame. And now, I find myself encountering that same amazing grace as I study and learn as a student at St. Paul’s.
The Lost Sheep
In Luke 15, Jesus confronted the religious rulers of his day in a way He often challenged those in power—with a story. Knowing that the teachers of the law were frustrated with Him, He offered them a parable about a shepherd and his sheep. It’s important to note that in ancient Jewish society, shepherds were often considered unclean or, at the very least, socially low-status.9 Yet, Jesus asks these men who were most concerned with outward appearances to put themselves in the shoes of a lowly shepherd and consider how they would respond if they were to lose one sheep out of a hundred.
Rabbis at this time believed that God would receive sinners who returned to Him—provided they returned in the right way. But here, Jesus compares sinners to a lost sheep, implying that they are actually incapable of finding their way back to the safety of the flock at all.10 Speaking to men who placed the responsibility of returning on the lost sheep, He reveals that He is the one who seeks and saves the lost. Or, as David Guzik puts it, “God finds the sinner more than the sinner finds God.”11
Jesus’ example in Luke 15 provides a powerful model for pastoral ministry, even in the 21st century. While a New Testament scholar could offer a more in-depth analysis, for the purposes of this discussion, let’s focus on three aspects of Jesus’ actions: His seeking, His carrying, and His rejoicing, found in Luke 15.
A Luke 15 Model
In this chapter, Jesus doesn’t place blame on the sheep for losing its way but instead goes out of His way to seek it out. As pastors, what does it look like to actively seek out the people both within and without our congregations? For example, are there those who have to work on weekends? Could a midweek worship service be offered for them? While the goal isn’t to meet the demands of each individual member, through the guidance of the Holy Spirit, we can seek to be sensitive to the specific needs among our people. Being attentive and creative in how we address the particular needs of those God has entrusted to us is one of the many ways we can faithfully seek like Jesus does.
Second, in this passage we aren’t told what state the lost sheep is in. We’re only told what happens once it’s found: it is carried. I believe Pastor Brad’s response to us when we shared our story of pain is one example of what being carried can look like. When we create safe environments and opportunities for wounded people to share their experiences, we offer them the loving presence of Jesus. In simple things—our body language, eye contact, and the time we give—we are telling the truest story of the body of Christ. We are not called to fix the brokenness in others’ stories but to carry the gospel into those broken places in simple, yet profound, ways.
Lastly, even though the shepherd in the story has ninetynine other sheep, he rejoices over finding the one that was lost. What’s more, he calls others to join him in his joy! When we recognize and celebrate the value of each person, we reflect the love and dignity Jesus bestows on every individual and the unique contribution he or she brings to the whole. This can take the form of celebrating the diverse gifts and talents within our congregations and creating opportunities for those gifts to be used within the church. 1 Corinthians 12:12-27 reminds us that we are one body with many parts. Acknowledging and making room for each part to function— even if that part is a group of women who crochet prayer shawls—is one way we can rejoice alongside our Good Shepherd.
Conclusion
We know that growth within the church is vital and necessary, but what if, in some ways, God is calling us not to get bigger, but smaller? When I was found, carried, and brought back, what I discovered surprised me. Lit candles, a crochet ministry, and a pastor who handed me the gospel over cheeseburgers were not on my radar—but they became tangible expressions of a deeper, spiritual reality.
At times, we’re all guilty of relying on Americanized strategies to build our churches and ministries. Yet, while we're busy perfecting banquet plans, it seems that Jesus is busy multiplying five loaves and two fish.12 Though it may seem counterintuitive to invite small churches to get smaller, it is just as counterintuitive to leave the ninety-nine to find the one. As one millennial who has wandered off more than once, I can assure you—we don’t need new and improved programs that convince us to stay. What we do need is for all of us to keep lighting candles and keep reminding ourselves that the darkness cannot overcome the light. We desperately need to keep handing over the gospel in as many places and ways as we can. We need to seek, carry, and rejoice over one lost sheep at a time, a sinner who is finally coming home. We need to keep breaking the bread and pouring the wine, telling others that it is “for you.” We—and the generations to come—need to be reminded that small stones slay giants and that small lunches feed the multitudes. We need to keep doing small things in our small churches and to never forget that it is most certainly Jesus who is taking those small offerings and multiplying them to feed and find us all.
We need to seek, carry, and rejoice over one lost sheep at a time, a sinner who is finally coming home.
Ms. Kiersten Banks lives and works alongside her husband in Culpeper, VA. A part-time student at St. Paul Lutheran Seminary, she also has the joy of leading the first church plant of the Reformation Lutheran Church House Church Network. When she’s not studying or working, you’ll find her at her pottery wheel, crocheting, or immersed in one of her many home or art projects.
Endnotes:
1Larry Kreider and Floyd McClung, Starting a House Church (Bloomington, Minnesota: Chosen Books, 2007), 32–33.
2“Church Attendance Lower Than Pre-Pandemic,” Gallup News, accessed February 21, 2025, https://news.gallup.com/poll/507692/church-attendance-lower-pre-pandemic.aspx.
3“Young Women Are Leaving Church in Unprecedented Numbers,” American Survey Center, accessed February 21, 2025, https://www.americansurveycenter.org/newsletter/young-womenare-leaving-church-in-unprecedented-numbers/.
4“Why Are People Leaving the Church? Top Reasons,” ComforTek Seating, accessed February 21, 2025, https://churchchairsbycomfortek.com/why-are-people-leaving-the-church-top-reasons/.
5“In U.S., Decline of Christianity Continues at Rapid Pace,” Pew Research Center, accessed February 21, 2025, https://www.pewresearch.org/religion/2019/10/17/in-u-s-decline-of-christianitycontinues-at-rapid-pace/.
6Luke 15:1–7, The Holy Bible, English Standard Version (ESV) (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), All subsequent Bible citations in this article come from the ESV Version.
7Psalm 23:6
81 Corinthians 11:23-26
9“The Shepherd’s Status,” Eternal Perspective Ministries, accessed February 21, 2025, https://www.epm.org/resources/2008/Mar/11/shepherds-status/.
10“Luke 15 Commentary,” Adam Clarke Commentary, StudyLight.org, accessed February 21, 2025, https://www.studylight.org/commentaries/eng/acc/luke-15.html.
11“Luke 15 – Bible Commentary,” Enduring Word, accessed February 21, 2025, https://enduringword.com/bible-commentary/luke-15/.
12Matthew 14:17-19
