“Where is everybody?!”
Buella’s dismay was as unmistakable as her thick New York accent—untouched by sixty years of Florida sunshine. At 101 years old, she still drove herself to church, the grocery store, and the beauty parlor. Frankly, she was livelier than almost anyone else in the sanctuary.
“This is terrible,” she said, looking around the nearly empty church. “This place used to be packed!”
It hadn’t been packed during the month I’d been preaching there. The modest building easily swallowed up what remained of the once-thriving congregation. How Buella could only now be shocked was a mystery—surely she had seen the slow unraveling.
She remembered the good days—kids in the pews, young families, laughter in the halls. But those days had faded. The church hadn’t had a pastor in over two years. Before that, pastors came and went like Florida thunderstorms. Feuds, splits, and drama filled the gaps. At 62, Gloria was the “baby” of the church. She had worshiped there since its founding fifty years earlier and led the hymns—always her way.
In eight Sundays, I saw almost no one under forty. The church declined outside help, unwilling to give up even a fraction of their cherished autonomy. After some honest conversations, I told the local denominational leaders that, in my opinion, the church’s prospects were dim. A pastor friend of mine bravely stepped in anyway. Eight months later, he reached the same conclusion: unless the church changed--and it wasn't going to--it would die.
Sadly, it wasn’t the only church I saw following this path. Another nearby pastor told me, “Nobody wants to go to church anymore.” I understood his frustration, but I also understood why many wouldn’t want to go to his church.
Weeks later, near Grand Rapids, Michigan, I asked another declining church’s leadership what had happened. The answer was familiar: people had drifted away, gradually at first, then rapidly. Family followed family. Friends followed friends. But the why remained a mystery to them.
They’re not alone.
A Widespread Crisis
Search the internet for terms like “church decline” or “church closures,” and you’ll find no shortage of heartbreaking data. This isn’t an isolated issue—it’s happening all over America, across denominations. The Southern Baptist Convention—America’s largest Protestant denomination—admits that about 900 churches close every year. Despite planting new churches and receiving some from other fellowships, the SBC still sees a net loss of 250–300 churches annually.
If similar trends apply across American evangelicalism (and I believe they do), we’re looking at 3,500–4,000 churches closing each year without replacement.
Most of these were neighborhood churches—small, accessible, and once vibrant. But many stopped functioning as Gospel lighthouses long before their final Sunday. Instead of being revitalized or repurposed, these buildings often become strip malls or gas stations—no longer Kingdom outposts.
The Favorite Scapegoats
When churches admit there’s a problem, they often point fingers. The first culprit? The nearest megachurch.
I understand. When I stepped into my first pastorate—already nearing fifty—I heard it too: “Pastor, we love you, but we’re going to Up-the-Road MegaChurch because we need a church with programs for our kids.” It was hard to blame them.
Megachurches, contrary to popular belief, aren’t necessarily watering down doctrine. Most I know are committed to biblical preaching and community outreach. Their pastors are dynamic, yes—but not ear-ticklers. Many megachurch attendees are not religious consumers but spiritual refugees fleeing lifeless congregations.
Megachurches are growing—or at least holding steady—because they are intentional about the Great Commission. They reach their neighborhoods. They preach hope. They equip and empower leaders.
And no, they’re not perfect. But to paraphrase D.L. Moody: I prefer their way of doing evangelism to your way of not doing it.
Another common scapegoat? The culture. “We haven’t changed,” some dying churches insist, “but the neighborhood sure has!” In truth, they haven’t changed—and that’s the problem.
The Death of Cultural Christianity—and the Opportunity It Brings
The numbers are undeniable: fewer Americans identify as Christian. The COVID-19 pandemic accelerated an already rapid decline. Many churchgoers never returned. Others only “attend” online, if at all. Still others now worship in glory.
But there’s hope in this: as cultural Christianity dies, authentic Christianity can rise. The days of attending church to impress your boss or neighbors are gone. The U.S. is becoming a mission field—and that’s not all bad.
Churches now have the opportunity to be the Church again. To be the hands and feet of Jesus. To stop assuming people will show up and start living as sent ones.
The Heart of the Problem—and the Path Forward
The Church grows when it obeys the Great Commission. Period. The Book of Acts shows us this. So does every church that has ever experienced genuine revival.
Growing churches are outward-focused. Dying churches turn inward. Evangelism fades. Outreach stops. And the church stops resembling its community—especially in age. When a congregation’s median age is twice that of the neighborhood, the clock is ticking.
The absence of younger generations isn’t just a demographic concern—it’s a death knell. Without generational handoff, the church cannot sustain itself. That’s why raising up next-generation leaders isn’t optional—it’s essential.
What This Book Is About
This blog post is the starting point for a larger conversation—a book focused on raising up next-generation leaders for church revitalization. Not just leadership theory. Not a treatise on revitalization models. But practical, biblically grounded help for pastors trying to develop under-40 leaders who will help turn the tide.
Based on my own ministry and doctoral research—interviews with eleven revitalizing pastors—this book distills what I learned into something actionable. These pastors shared their stories, their struggles, their victories, and their hard-won wisdom. I hope their experiences will inspire and guide you.
I’m not here to run off older saints—far from it. We need them. But time is short. The revitalizing pastor must recruit and empower leaders now—without compromising on spiritual maturity. The task is immense. The burden is heavy. But we do not bear it alone.
A Spiritual Battle
Church revitalization is not just strategy—it’s spiritual warfare. If you’ve led a revitalization effort, you already know this. If you haven’t led revitalization, but are about to, this reality will hit home soon.
Before ministry, I spent nearly three decades in the U.S. Navy as a submariner and surface warfare officer. The military taught me leadership under fire, and how to train and empower young leaders. Oddly enough, it also gave me insight into spiritual combat.
I’m not saying military experience is a requirement for ministry—far from it. Some of the pastors I interviewed had been teachers, postal workers, or corporate professionals. But all of us had learned this: leadership development must be intentional, and it must be biblical.
The Church Across Denominations
The trends I uncovered are shockingly consistent across traditions and regions: North or South, urban or rural, Calvinist or Arminian, Pentecostal or Reformed. Churches are aging, declining, and unsure how to reach a post-Christian culture that views the Gospel with suspicion—or even hostility.
But I believe God is not done with His Church.
A Final Word
I don’t claim to have all the answers. But I know the One who does. I believe God can revive your church—and He alone can breathe new life into dry bones.
He still loves His bride. He still calls pastors to serve. And He still empowers leaders to rise.
If you’re walking the hard road of revitalization, know this: you are not alone. You are my hero. I’m praying for you. I’m rooting for you. And I believe you are right where God wants you—for such a time as this.
About the Author
Dr. Bart L. Denny is a former U.S. Navy officer turned church revitalization pastor, author, and adjunct seminary professor. He serves as the lead pastor of Pathway — A Wesleyan Church in Saranac, Michigan, where he is passionate about raising up next-generation leaders and seeing struggling churches experience renewed life. Bart holds a Ph.D. in Christian Leadership and has taught graduate-level courses in ministry and leadership. He and his wife Jennifer have three adult children and a heart for seeing the Church thrive in every generation.
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