In the years since COVID, many churches have grown smaller. Attendance has thinned. Longtime members have disappeared. Programs have been scaled back. Leaders have grown anxious.
This thinning is often framed as failure:
a loss of commitment
a loss of discipline
a loss of faith
But that framing may be profoundly mistaken.
What if post-COVID thinning is not God abandoning the church?
What if it is God stripping away what could not carry suffering?
When suffering exposed the limits of our structures
COVID was not just a disruption of routines.
It was a collective trauma.
It brought death into daily conversation.
It isolated the grieving.
It dismantled the illusion that stability was guaranteed.
And suffering has a way of testing what is real.
Churches that were built on:
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momentum
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habit
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performance
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silence around pain
could not hold the weight of that season.
So people began to slip away, not always consciously, not always angrily. Often quietly. Often with sorrow.
This was not rebellion.
It was capacity meeting reality.
Thinning reveals what was being carried invisibly
Much of what made churches feel “strong” before COVID was unseen.
Emotional labor.
Unpaid caregiving.
People who absorbed conflict.
People who stayed quiet to keep peace.
People who served automatically, without being asked how they were doing.
When trauma hit, those people reached the end of what they could carry.
And when they stopped over-functioning, the structure revealed its true strength or lack of it.
God did not remove them.
God stopped asking them to hold up what was never meant to rest on them.
That is not judgment.
That is mercy.
Smaller does not mean weaker
Scripture is remarkably consistent on this point.
God has never equated faithfulness with size.
Again and again, we see God allowing:
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crowds to thin
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temples to fall
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institutions to be humbled
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illusions to collapse
Not because God delights in loss but because truth cannot coexist indefinitely with pretense.
Crowds followed Jesus until suffering was named.
Then many left.
Jesus did not chase them.
He did not soften reality to preserve numbers.
He let the thinning happen.
Because truth always thins illusions before it deepens faith.
What remains after thinning is often quieter and truer
What survives collapse is rarely impressive.
It is:
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less loud
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less certain
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less polished
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more honest
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more human
Post-COVID faith often feels quieter because it has passed through death.
It does not shout.
It listens.
It does not rush to meaning.
It sits with pain.
This is not diminished faith.
It is faith stripped of substitutes.
God is removing substitutes for presence
Before COVID, many churches unknowingly relied on:
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activity instead of care
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teaching instead of accompaniment
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optimism instead of lament
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programs instead of presence
COVID exposed those substitutions.
What could not survive isolation was not essential. It was compensatory.
What endured was quieter:
faith whispered at bedsides
prayer spoken alone
hope carried without language
God stayed close there.
Thinning forces a harder ecclesiology
The church is being confronted with a truth it can no longer avoid:
Belonging cannot be extracted from people who are hurting.
You cannot:
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mobilize the traumatized
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pressure the grieving
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shame the exhausted
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measure faith by visibility alone
Any church that tries will continue to thin.
Not because God has left but because God is protecting people.
Smaller may be truer because it is chosen
What remains now in many churches is more consensual.
People are present not because:
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it is expected
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it is enforced
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it is socially required
But because they have chosen it: carefully, honestly, and with awareness of cost.
This kind of church may never be large.
But it may be safe.
And safety is holy.
The truer church can sit with what doesn’t resolve
Pre-COVID church culture often rushed:
grief toward hope
doubt toward answers
pain toward purpose
Post-COVID faith is learning to say:
“I don’t know yet.”
“This still hurts.”
“God is here, even if I’m not okay.”
This posture does not attract crowds.
But it reflects reality.
And reality is where God dwells.
This thinning is not the end of the church
It is the end of a version of church that depended on unexamined loyalty, invisible labor, and silence around suffering.
What is emerging may be:
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smaller
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slower
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less certain
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less impressive
But it may also be:
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more truthful
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more humane
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more capable of holding grief
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more worthy of trust
God is not pruning the church to punish it.
God is pruning the church to save people.
And sometimes that protection looks like absence.
But absence, in this season, may be grace.
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