I saw a viral video recently of an influencer explaining why she was done with the Church, but not with God. She talked about how she still believed in Jesus and still prayed, but had no interest in going back to a church building.
“That part just isn’t for me anymore,” she said.
The comments section made it clear she wasn’t alone. People weren’t just agreeing—they were relieved. It felt like she had put language to something a lot of people had been carrying quietly. Not angry, not rebellious, just… done.
And statistically, she’s right in the middle of a growing trend. More and more young adults, especially Gen Z, are pulling away from church while still holding on to some form of faith.
According to Barna, Gen Z is more likely than any generation before to describe themselves as “spiritual but not religious.” Pew Research reports that over a third of people who identify as Christian now rarely or never go to church. Instead, they “practice their faith in other ways.”
To someone outside the Church, this might not seem like a big deal. But there’s one problem: Jesus never created space between Himself and the Church. And no matter how well-intentioned our reasons, He’s not going to let us separate the two.
In Matthew 16:18, Jesus said, “I will build my Church, and the gates of hell will not overcome it.” From the start, the Church wasn’t just part of the plan—it was the plan. He called it His own, and He tied Himself to it. Not just in metaphor, but in mission.
Throughout the New Testament, the Church is described in deeply relational terms. It’s the Bride of Christ (Revelation 19), the Body of Christ (Romans 12), and the Family of God (2 Corinthians 6). You don’t get to claim closeness to someone while rejecting the people and institutions they call their own. If we love Jesus, we can’t ignore the thing He loves most.
That’s not to say the Church has always gotten it right. It hasn’t. Some have caused harm. Some have been toxic, performative, controlling or painfully out of touch. If you’ve been hurt, dismissed or exhausted by church, you’re not alone. And you’re not wrong to feel it.
But walking away entirely doesn’t fix what’s broken. Disengaging from church doesn’t heal the wounds; it often just isolates them. The New Testament is full of letters to imperfect churches. People were divided, immature, selfish and confused. But instead of encouraging believers to leave and start their own solo journeys, Paul pushed them to grow up together.
“Do not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing,” Hebrews 10:25 says, “but encourage one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.”
There’s something about presence that can’t be replicated. Shared space. Shared rhythms. Shared worship, prayer, and service. These aren’t just nostalgic traditions. They’re part of how we’re formed.
That formation doesn’t happen in isolation. The popular idea that “I am the Church” might sound empowering, but it’s a distortion of the truth. The Greek word for church—ekklesia—means assembly or gathering. It’s a community word. You can’t embody that alone. A body part disconnected from the rest doesn’t thrive. It withers.
Church is where we practice the stuff we like to post about: grace, hospitality, forgiveness, humility, courage, love. It’s where our faith stops being a concept and becomes real. Not just personal, but mutual. Not just internal, but embodied.
And yes, it’s difficult. That’s the point. Faith isn’t formed in comfort. It’s formed in commitment, especially when it’s hard.
If the Church feels disappointing, it might be because it’s missing people like you. Your experiences. Your insight. Your ability to spot what’s broken. What if your disillusionment is a holy invitation not to leave, but to lead?
In Ephesians 4, Paul says the Church grows into maturity when each part does its work. It’s not a spectator sport. The Church isn’t a place where perfect people perform their faith in front of others. It’s a body made up of all kinds of people working out their faith together—with fear, trembling and sometimes a whole lot of baggage.
And while the spiritual-but-not-religious mindset may feel like a gentler version of belief, it eventually stops short. Curiosity is a great place to start, but it’s not where we’re called to stay.
Following Jesus is personal, but it was never meant to be private. When we say yes to Him, we’re also saying yes to His people.
“You are no longer strangers and foreigners,” Paul writes in Ephesians 2:19, “but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of His household.”
That’s your true identity. Not vague or unclear, but purposeful.
So no, the Church won’t always be easy. It won’t always make sense. But it’s the place Jesus chose to dwell. It’s the community He left behind. It’s the people He’s coming back for.
And if you’re committed to Jesus, you can’t ghost His Church. Not because you’re obligated, but because you’re part of it.
