Not that long ago, National Public Radio came to my backyard. The headline on the resulting GetReligion post summed up what happened: “NPR comes to hills of Tennessee and sees exactly the religion trends that you would expect.”
This was another one of those post-coronavirus pieces that talked about the challenges to the mainline churches that are dear to the heart of spiritual seekers in prestigious newsrooms. The NPR team headed straight to progressive East Tennessee churches — many already in decline — in which the pews are full of people who have NPR as the main pre-set on their car radios.
The result was valid, but so, so, so incomplete. As I wrote at the time:
It’s absolutely true that there are declining churches here in the mountains of East Tennessee, especially during COVID-tide. That’s an important story. The problem is that there are also growing churches in the region (yes, including my own Orthodox parish, which has grown at least 25% in the past three years) and that’s a detail that makes this story more complex.
Well, I am happy (sort of) to note that NPR journalists have now discovered (or rediscovered) two major trends that began back in the 1970s and, maybe, they see some new connections. The headline on this feature: “Megachurches are getting even bigger as churches close across the country.”
The two old trends: (1) Megachurches are real and growing and (2) much of this is linked to the stunning growth of nondenominational evangelical and charismatic Protestantism in American life (and around the world).
I will stress, once again, that this is a valid story. I am less convinced that this is somehow linked to life after the COVID-wave, although it is certainly important that entrepreneurial megachurches were already wired for online worship, while most denominational churches were not.
Anyway, here is the long overture, which includes several themes:
Something clicked for Marlena Bhame when she first stepped into Liquid Church about four years ago. She'd been searching for something more spiritually dynamic and meaningful than the faith tradition she'd grown up in, or the various others she had tried out over the years.
When Bhame, who was raised in the evangelical Christian and Missionary Alliance tradition, arrived at the church in Parsippany, N.J., she was immediately struck by a feeling of belonging. The congregation mostly looked like her — a lot of millennials and Gen Z — and everyone seemed enthusiastic about being there.
"I was blown away by the amount of young people," she says.
Liquid Church has helped Bhame, 28, and others like her find meaning even as many in her generation have turned away from organized religion. It is one of about 1,800 "megachurches" in the United States — defined as having 2,000 or more members. At a time when empty pews are forcing churches across the country to shutter, these mostly nondenominational houses of worship are largely bucking that trend — attracting younger, more vibrant and more diverse congregations.
The average Christian congregation in the U.S. is in precipitous decline, with just 65 members, about a third of whom are age 65 or older, according to a 2020 pre-pandemic survey. By contrast, a separate 2020 study found that three-quarters of megachurches were growing, many at a rapid clip.
Experts say these trends have continued since the start of the pandemic. Liquid Church claims 6,000 members, 84% of whom are under the age of 55, with most younger than 35. About a quarter of members are Hispanic/Latino, 13% Asian and 8% Black.
It is certainly important that (a) growing megachurches tend to make converts, (b) draw people from churches that have less sizzle, (c) pull in young adults, (d) welcome families with children and (e) blur over a few doctrinal differences (#DUH, #nondenominationalism).
I, of course, want to know what some of these nondenominational superstars (if you don’t have a great preacher, you don’t have a megachurch) have to say about, you know, that icky doctrinal stuff of old-school Christian faith down the ages. If people are converting, or switching churches, what is the message that is accomplishing that?
For NPR, that turns into:
The Liquid Church's core beliefs, "Grace wins" and "Truth is relevant," are capped by a less theological component: "Church is fun."
"It's one of the pillars," says Katherine. "That's just the culture in the church. So everyone's kind of onboard with that."
Church barbecues, pizza and movie nights are all part of the mix. On Sundays, "it's loud. ... it's casual. People can wear flip-flops and drink coffee," says Pastor Tim Lucas, who founded Liquid Church in 2007.
Oh, and this has to be a key point:
Liquid Church also steers clear of politics, [Lucas] says. That's common in most megachurches because they are more diverse, according to Scott Thumma, a professor of sociology of religion at the Hartford Institute for Religion Research. "The vast majority of them have nothing to do with politics," he says.
Ah, but is “politics” the same thing as “doctrine,” or even “moral theology” in this tense, divided age?
Several important issues pop into view during this long story — all of them valid.
Is someone a “pastor” if you are viewing them on a big-screen at the front of a church? What happens to ethics, when an independent church has zero accountability to a larger denomination? Is it acceptable for a hot new church to simply ignore the needs of older, maybe less hip, church members?
That question about old folks is linked to what I thought was the story’s most important new angle. Thus, back to the NPR text:
For the last several years, Liquid Church has been one of the fastest-growing churches in the nation, and a big part of its success has come through assimilating smaller, more traditional congregations. Four of its seven campuses — all in New Jersey — have come through these mergers.
This "multisite" model has been adopted by about 70% of megachurches across the country, according to Lifeway Research, a church consultancy. In it, the main church beams its Sunday sermon to branch campuses, where it is projected onto huge LED screens. Each of the satellite churches has its own pastor, live music and worship services.
"It's like a marriage," explains Lucas. "An older congregation with a rich history but a declining population joins forces with a younger church like Liquid, with fresh energy and vision and volunteers. You basically bring them together and rebirth the church."
Beam-me-up worship is, of course, ready-made for screen culture and most other forms of online life. That was crucial during COVID-tide.
In conclusion, let’s look at another important block of material here:
Typically, the mergers are with a church in decline or a pastor ready to retire, according to Jim Tomberlin, a member of The Unstuck Group, a consulting organization that offers a service to support church mergers. It's a case of "you need a building, we need a pastor," he says.
Tomberlin sees it as a win-win. The larger church grows its membership. The smaller congregation gets "a great communicator," in the form of a dynamic pastor, but also a local pastor "who's not consumed or distracted by preparing sermons 10 or 20 hours a week, every week," he says. "That gives them time to serve that congregation."
While megachurches currently represent only a tiny portion of all U.S. churches, the size of their congregations puts them in an "elite class," Thumma says.
He compares megachurches to more traditional churches in the same way that Walmart posed a challenge to mom and pop shops.
OK, I will ask: What declining denominations are providing the satellite campuses for these multi-media, multi-pastor operations? What seminaries are training preachers with this skill set?
I have been under the impression that the nation’s most rapidly declining flocks — the oldline liberal denominations of the “Seven Sisters” — tend to simply merge their fading congregations into others, sell the old facilities to fight red ink and then move on.
At some point, aging and dying liberal DENOMINATIONS may start to merge. Check out the history of the progressive United Church of Canada for a roadmap on that. Are mainline Methodists and Presbyterians predestined to merge?
But where are the merged churches coming from? To be blunt: What corpses are being dissected and sewn into these multi-site operations?
Maybe that’s the next angle in this important story.
FIRST IMAGE: “Unstuck Church” book graphic, from the LeadingSmart.com website.