Practicing Congregational Discernment: When Should We Start Paying Attention?
Why the healthiest churches aren't the ones that avoid decline, but the ones that learn to discern faithfully together
Much of my writing has centered on church closures. That’s where my research began, and it’s a conversation I still believe the Church needs to have. I’ll continue writing about faithful endings, because I remain convinced that how we close churches is an important theological and pastoral question.
Along the way, though, I’ve realized that my questions have been growing broader. What does faithful congregational discernment actually look like?
Every congregation experiences seasons of uncertainty. Sometimes those seasons lead to renewal. Sometimes they lead to significant change, new partnerships, or different ways of participating in God’s mission. Sometimes they lead to a faithful ending. The destination isn’t always the same, and that’s part of the point.
What matters is whether we learn to discern God’s leading together.
So from time to time, I’ll be sharing essays under the heading Practicing Congregational Discernment. They’ll explore the habits, questions, and practices that help congregations listen well to one another, to their communities, and to the Holy Spirit.
A while back, someone asked me a question that has stayed with me ever since.
“How do you know when a church is dying?”
It wasn’t a cynical question. It wasn’t even an especially fearful one. It came from someone who genuinely loved their congregation and wanted to know when concern becomes appropriate. At what point do we stop saying, “This is just a difficult season,” and begin wondering whether something more significant is happening?
For the last several years, much of my work has centered on studying church closures. You might think all of that would leave me with a simple answer. It hasn’t.
In fact, the longer I’ve sat with this question, the less interested I’ve become in predicting which churches will survive.
Some congregations I assumed were nearing the end are still faithfully serving their communities years later. Others appeared stable from the outside until they suddenly weren’t. Looking back, I’m not nearly as confident that churches can be diagnosed as I once thought. Maybe that’s because I’ve been asking the wrong question.
Instead of asking, “When is a church dying?” I find myself asking something different. When should we start paying attention?
Those aren’t quite the same thing.
The first question assumes we’re trying to predict an outcome. The second assumes we’re trying to become more attentive to the work of God. I think that’s a healthier place to begin.
One of the things that has surprised me most is that I don't think the first signs a congregation needs to pay closer attention are usually numerical. Attendance, finances, and demographics matter. They tell us something. But I don’t think they’re the first indicators that God may be inviting a congregation into a season of deeper discernment.
The more I read about and consider church closures, the more I wonder if we’ve been looking for the wrong things all along.
What if one of the earliest signs isn’t found on a financial report at all? What if it’s found in the conversations we’re no longer able to have?
I’ve noticed that healthy congregations have a remarkable capacity to tell the truth. They can acknowledge disappointment without giving up hope. They can name losses without believing that every loss is failure. They can admit uncertainty without assuming God has abandoned them.
That kind of honesty isn’t easy.
In fact, I suspect it’s one of the most courageous things a church can practice.
I’ve been in churches where everyone knew attendance had been declining for years, yet no one quite knew how to begin the conversation. I’ve listened as people carefully talked around the difficult questions because saying them out loud somehow made them feel more real. And I get it.
Most of the time, I don’t think people are avoiding hard conversations because they lack faith. I think they’re avoiding them because they love their church. They remember children filling the hallways, fellowship meals that stretched late into the evening, and pews occupied by people whose funerals they have since attended.
Of course those memories matter. The question is whether memory helps us discern God’s future or becomes the place we hope to return. Hope and denial can look surprisingly similar from a distance. One keeps listening for God. The other refuses to listen to reality.
I am convinced that healthy congregations remain curious. They keep asking questions. What is God doing in our neighborhood? Who are our neighbors now? What gifts has God already placed among us that we haven’t fully recognized?
Curiosity may not seem like a particularly spiritual practice, but I’m beginning to think it is. I love curiosity. Curious churches pay attention. They notice that the community around them is changing. They celebrate new opportunities while also honestly grieving what has been lost. They don’t assume every change is good, but neither do they instinctively resist it.
They simply keep listening. They keep listening to one another, to their neighbors, and perhaps most importantly, to the Holy Spirit.
That brings me to leadership. I’m not simply asking whether a church has a pastor. I’m actually wondering whether the congregation still knows how to discern together. Are new leaders being encouraged? Can people disagree faithfully? Is responsibility shared, or has ministry quietly become the work of a few exhausted volunteers who are carrying far more than anyone realizes?
Those questions have stayed with me because they point toward something deeper than organizational health. They’re questions about trust and hope. About whether we still believe the Holy Spirit has something to say to us.
Perhaps that’s why I no longer think the most important question is whether a church is healthy or unhealthy. I’m becoming more interested in whether it is paying attention. Paying attention to God. Paying attention to one another. Paying attention to the neighborhood. Paying attention to what has been lost. Paying attention to what is being born.
The more I’ve studied congregations, the more convinced I’ve become that discernment isn’t something we practice only when we’re facing a crisis. It’s a way of living together. Healthy churches don’t suddenly become discerning because attendance declines or finances become difficult.
They’ve been practicing discernment all along.
Maybe that’s why I don’t think it’s worth it to try to predict which churches will close. Instead, I wonder whether we’re cultivating the habits that make faithful discernment possible.
Are we telling the truth? Are we remaining curious? Are we listening well? Are we praying honestly? Are we paying attention?
Those questions won’t tell us exactly what the future holds. But I suspect they’re the kinds of questions that prepare us to receive it faithfully, whatever it may be.
Questions for Reflection
Whether you’re a pastor, board member, longtime member, or simply someone who loves your congregation, I wonder what might happen if you spent a few moments sitting with these questions.
Where have we seen signs of God’s faithfulness in our congregation over the past year?
What conversations have we been avoiding because they feel uncomfortable or painful?
When was the last time we intentionally listened to our neighbors and asked what they need today, rather than assuming we already know?
What gifts, leaders, or opportunities might God already be raising up that we’ve overlooked because they don’t look like the past?
Are we making decisions primarily out of fear, nostalgia, hope, or discernment?
If someone visited our board meeting or ministry team, would they see a congregation curious about what God is doing next and what God is currently doing?
What would it look like for us to practice congregational discernment before a crisis forces us to?
Practicing Congregational Discernment: Don’t rush to answer these questions. Let them become part of your congregation’s ongoing conversation.
I really appreciate your thinking.