Seth Godin often asks: Are we connecting the dots, or merely collecting them? In that spirit, I want to connect a few seemingly diverse—but profoundly related—observations about the church today.
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A recent article in The Economist began:
Push open the heavy door and step inside. The sound as it slams behind you will feel loud, almost rude, in the old, cold silence. For St Torney’s Church in Cornwall is very old indeed. The Normans built it. The Tudors enlarged it. The Victorians meddled with it. It has outlasted the Reformation and the civil war. It could not outlast apathy.
In the 20th century, people stopped coming. By the start of COVID-19 it had four worshippers. An 800-year history was over.
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Twentieth-century social ethicist James Luther Adams once gave a lecture on economic systems and their relation to Christian faith. As he talked through the approaches of capitalism, communism, and socialism in light of the teachings of Jesus, he noticed a man in the audience growing increasingly agitated. At the conclusion of the lecture, the man made a beeline for Adams and said bluntly, “I hate your guts!”
Adams stepped back and asked, “Would you like to talk about it?”
“You bet I’d like to talk about it. Do you know what I do every day? I sell tires. I sell hundreds—I sell thousands of tires. Every day. Somebody calls and says, ‘We need tires.’ And I say, ‘Fine, I’ll send you a thousand.’ Then they call me a week later and say they didn’t get the tires, so I send them another thousand. All day long. I just sell tires. And I can buy you, Adams—I can buy you twenty times over. You are nothing. I hate your guts!”
Somehow, Adams managed to ask him, “Why?”
“Because while I sell tires, you get to talk about, think about, read about, and work with the greatest ideas in the history of the world—and all I do is sell these damn tires.”
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Walter Benjamin, nearly a century ago, was already talking about “the diminution of experience in everyday life” for people in Western culture.
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Every interpreter of public-opinion data—Gallup, Pew, Barna, Ryan Burge, and others—points to the same reality: a renewed spiritual yearning, especially among younger generations. And it’s not just vague “spirituality.” Curiosity about Jesus is rising—significantly and steadily—among American teens.
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I subscribe to a lot of ministry email lists. In just one week, I received three emails—one from a ministry network, one from a seminary, one from a denomination—all offering support around “vision for ministry.” Here’s a quick word tally from those messages:
God = 1
Jesus = 0
Holy Spirit = 0
Gospel = 0
Faith = 1
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Over the past few decades, the church has become increasingly unreliable as a delivery system for spiritual values rooted in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Yes, demographic changes, generational shifts, and overdue reckonings around race and economics have shaped the church’s role. But when we connect the dots, the picture is sobering.
There is deep spiritual hunger.
There is growing curiosity about Jesus.
There is cultural anxiety and existential despair.
And there is a church—far too often—mute in proclaiming the central Christian story of hope and new life.
In light of all this, do we really need another strategic plan?
Feel the urgency of this moment.
Listen to the longings of people’s hearts.
Refuse to be distracted.
And love God—so deeply, so tenderly, so fervently—that you, and the churches where we gather, cannot help but connect the dots.
Reflection Questions:
- Can you think of a time in your life when you moved from just collecting dots to connecting them? What helped you to move in that direction?
- In your life (or in your congregation) what is the equivalent of feeling trapped “just selling tires?”
- What are some cultural and theological dots you are noticing in life today and how can you help your faith community connect them?
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