Newsflash…Young adults are leaving the church. Ok, it’s not really news to anyone familiar with church attendance trends. For generations we have seen young people raised within the church depart during their later teens and twenties. But most returned once they married and had children. It’s sometimes called the “driver’s license to marriage license hiatus.”

What is new is the mountain of recent research by respected groups like Barna, Lifeway, and Pew indicating young people who leave are no longer returning. The hiatus has become an exodus. Why? David Kinnaman at Barna outlines six reasons in his research. And others have pointed out that young people are waiting much longer to get married than in the past, thereby delaying the felt-need to return to church. (Al Mohler’s solution to declining church attendance is to convince young people to get married sooner despite the much higher rate of divorce among young marriages. Kinda like motivating people to get a physical by breaking their legs.)

Books and blogs are filled with recommendations about how to reverse the exodus of young adults, and I have no silver bullet solution to offer here. But I do want to explore one area I believe many churches have overlooked- vocation.

I just watched the Pentecostal preacher Jim Cymbala give an altar call and about 400 Baptist pastors came forward for prayer. Here's what happened.

Cymbala told a moving story about his young grandson, an adopted child from Ethiopia named Levi. When Levi was two-years old, Cymbala loved holding him in his lap. They didn't have to do anything; they just sat together. Sometimes they rocked in a chair and watched SpongeBob Squarepants. But the point wasn't to do something with Levi; the point was to be with Levi.

Cymbala used this story (and his preaching text) to make a simple point: Jesus invites us to be with him--and sometimes that's the only "agenda" for our spiritual lives. Cymbala called it "sitting in his presence and listening to him." There's a big implications to this for pastoral leaders: we can't give to people what we haven't received from Jesus. So if we're not regularly listening to Jesus, just being with Jesus, receiving from Jesus, then we won't have much to give away to others.

Then Cymbala invited pastors and anyone else to come forward if we need to start spending more time being with and listening to Jesus. And that’s when about half of the 800 people started streaming forward. Cymbala didn't have to cajole anyone; people came quickly and willingly. Based on this experience I'd conclude that evangelicals--especially leaders and pastors--are hungry to be with Jesus.

I wonder, though, if we can actually sustain this practice--this commitment to carve out time and space to be with Jesus on a regular basis—in the midst of our present evangelical milieu. I've been to two large, important evangelical conferences lately and they were very different but they had something in common: they were both stuffed with busyness, noise, and information--lots of information. Both conferences had so many incredible speakers on the schedule, so many new books to read, so many products to check out, and so much noise in the worship times that we just didn't have time to be with Jesus (although we did have time to talk about being with Jesus).

Don't get me wrong. I liked the content. I thought the messages were spectacular. But after awhile I felt like I need to detox from the noise and hype by checking into a Benedictine monastery for a few days? It’s almost like we can’t believe that God can actually do something unless we’re talking about God doing something. Do we have such great faith in the power of words and information that we can't trust God to speak in our silence?

For the past few days I’ve been hanging out with hundreds of Southern Baptists and I have to say that I like these guys. (And I use “guys” because they only have guys in pastoral ministry.). I sure appreciated their passion for God’s Word. It's great to see people actually carry their Bibles into worship services and then keep them open during sermons. (And most of the Bibles look really old and beat up—like they’ve actually been read and reread for decades.) I love their passion for evangelism. I love the way people nod their heads and talk back during sermons. Where else can you hear “Amen,” and “Preach it,” and “That’s right,” and “Yes!” sprinkled throughout a message? I mean, these folks actually know how to listen to a sermon! In some ways, I think Southern Baptists do their part to keey this country from plunging over the edge.

Having said all of that, I honestly have to say that I couldn't join the SBC. For me it feels like becoming a Greek Orthodox Christian: parts of it intrigue me but there are too many theological differences (like the complete absence of women in leadership for one) and then the cultural barriers are also huge. You know, I love Souvlaki and Gyros and Mediterranean cruises but I’m just not Greek. In a similar way, I also love SEC football (go Georgia Dawgs!), year-round warm weather, and sweet tea but the inculturation process would take a while.

I realize that Americans move around a lot these days, but I'd still argue that there are some key regional differences in this country--just as I discovered that Long Island has cultural distinctives that differ from the culture of my home state of Minnesota. For one thing, a lot of people in Jacksonville, unlike former New Yorkers like me, are actually nice. Really nice. But even if I lived in the South for a decade I’d probably still feel a bit like a displaced Midwesterner.

So here’s a friendly suggestion from a long time Midwest guy: consider changing your name. Keep the "Baptist” part but drop the “Southern” part. I know it’s a big hassle switching all the letterhead, but I think it will be worth it. For starters, we need more "Southern Baptists" in our neighborhoods in the Midwest or the Northeast. (Although I wouldn’t recommend sending too many lifelong southerners to plant churches in places like Newark, Boston, or Long Island--unless you train them like you'd train someone going to Bangladesh or Tanzania.) I’m not sure where the name-changing discussion is at these days, but as just one lifelong northerner, I hope you start the discussion again sometime soon.

I'm blogging semi-live live from the Jacksonville Pastor's Conference and it's the first time I've heard Tullian Tchividjian speak. Here's one thing for certain about Tullian: he's passionate and clear about one thing—the gospel. And for Tullian the good news isn't first and foremost about what we do; it's about what Christ has already done for us. It's not about trying harder and doing more; it’s about trusting Jesus who already told us, "It is finished!"

It's easy to track with Tullian because he leads the major leagues of preaching with more tweetable quotes per minute than any other preacher. (That’s not a criticism or a compliment; it's just the way Tullian communicates. On the plus side, it sure makes his messages comprehensible and memorable.) For instance, consider these quotable, tweetable Tullian-statements:

• “The fire to do for Jesus comes from being soaked in the fuel of what's been done [by Christ].”
• “The only way to set our people free is if we [the preachers] have already been set free.”
• “For far too long preachers have been addicted to moral renovation.”
• “Based on a lot of American preaching you'd think God's primary goal is not worship but behavior modification.”
• “Antinomianism doesn't flow from too much grace, but from too little grace.”
• “The evangelical church is filled with a ton of Christless Christianity.”
•And my favorite: “Preachers have become prodigious in providing practical to-do lists instead of lifting up Christ's finished work.”

I was personally stirred by Tullian's clear focus on grace. Like Tullian, I could go back through my sermon archives and find example after depressing example of graceless, moralistic, try-harder-you-spiritual-sluggard messages. I get tired just thinking about all the pressure I put on people, including myself! Tullian is right about this: if we really get grace, if we really preach grace, it will revolutionize our own lives and our churches. Grace is dangerous and intoxicating, but it will always set you free.

But having said that, I did miss something in his message—and by “miss” I mean that I was left longing and thirsting for something. I wanted to know this: okay, I see what I’m set free from (the Law, judgment, insecurity, condemnation), but what am I set free for? I agree that preachers are way too addicted to moral renovation. But on the other hand, I still want and need Jesus to do a work of moral renovation in my heart. I also want Jesus to do a work of cultural, social renovation in my neighborhood and in the world around me. How does grace lead to all of that? I know Tullian wants all that stuff too; I just wanted him to spell it out (or at least drop some clues)—even in one 40 minute talk.

And I know that I’m set free from the crushing demands of the Law, but I still long for that “Old Covenant” delight in God’s Law. I mean, in Psalm 119 those guys pant, and yearn, and get up seven times in the middle of the night because they’ve been pierced with longing for God’s Law. To them, at least one aspect of the Law represented something beautiful about God’s presence. I want to know how that dimension of the Law fits into my desperate need for grace.

This video was produced by This Is Our City, a project of Christianity Today exploring how Christians are working for the flourishing of their cities. Here McKinley talks about the activism of Portland's culture and how the church can't just talk about activism, but vocation.

Read Part 1 and Part 2.

This past semester my students and I have been educating each other. I’ve been introducing them—at warp speed—to the major world religions. They’ve been candidly expressing their perspectives on faith, religious practice, and what any of that might have to do with their daily lives. In two previous posts, I summarized a few common themes—some surprising, some not—that emerged from their written reflections. Below I comment on the implications of their responses for those ministering to the enigmatic twenty-something.

Know why they’re coming.
Even though we know we shouldn’t, many of us still consider attendance a victory. If they show up at church, we think, it’s because they’re looking for something only the church can offer. Maybe. My students’ responses make me think we need to find out why people come to church. The reasons might surprise us.

For example, many of my students expressed an interest in having their children in church (or temple or synagogue), even though they themselves are not “believers” of any sort. For them, religious service and education are a great means of instilling a sense of tradition and a moral foundation in kids. In other words—and this is the important point—adults may not be attending our churches because they believe they’ll find something of value there for them. They may be attending only for their children’s sake. And not because they want their kids to come to saving faith in Jesus or learn to hear God speak; rather, they want them to be nice people, good citizens. And they figure church isn’t a bad place to start.

I visited a number of Asian countries in 2011 and was amazed at the dynamism and commitment of the young Jesus followers.

One network, in a country that I will not mention, stuck out to me as an outstanding example. They have started almost a thousand new communities, many of them multiplying into the second and third generation. And like many new movements in the non-Western world, a Sunday worship service as an evangelistic entry point for potential members, has not been part of their ministry portfolio. Which was the subject of my somewhat provocative post a few days ago, 9 Reasons NOT to plant a church in 2012.

So if they didn't start worship services, how did they start a replicating movement of Christian communities and how do they maintain such a high level of spiritual growth?

Of course it's hard and a little presumptuous to claim which elements of their ministry are the most important but . . . here are 11 practices that I think have contributed to their success:

"Church planting is the most effective form of evangelism under heaven," said C.Peter Wagner. I know he said that. I was there. I was a young [and good looking] Seminary student sitting in his classroom when he said it.

It was a welcomed idea, proven scientifically more effective than trying to expand older church structures. Back then, there was little argument against it and the idea was embraced by mission societies and church denominations who played it out in their strategies all through the 90's and also during the noughties when the thinking became mainstream rather than rebellious. I was part of that movement the whole time.

But now it's 2012 and while some young, enthusiastic people are out there planting churches like its 1997, others are focusing on launching more sustainable, more holistic, more measurably transformational Kingdom solutions.

One of the biggest trends in church planting that I observed in my recent 30+ country trek is the SHIFT AWAY FROM planting churches towards NOT planting a church at all but focusing on a wider range of transforming Kingdom activities. Some church planters are delaying the worship service piece of the pioneer missional ministry for as long as possible and sometimes indefinitely.

In a previous post, I described a few trends I noticed in responses of my students in a community college world religions course to prompts about the role of religion in their lives. In that post, I listed the responses that came as no surprise to me. Here I list a few recurring things I did find surprising.

Tradition and morality are valued more than belief.
Regardless of their religious background, a majority of my students expressed that they plan to take their own children to church (synagogue, temple, etc.) or have them attend religious education. This was true even of students who do not consider themselves religious. They liked the traditions, they said. Or they want their children to have a strong moral foundation. Or they want their children to be baptized or bar mitzvah. These students weren’t concerned, necessarily, that the content of the faith be true; it seems they simply want their kids to share memories and a heritage they themselves were raised with.

Let's be honest for a minute. Most churches expend the vast majority of their resources on weekend worship gatherings. It's when facilities are most utilized, when programming is most robust, when volunteers are most required, and what many pastors spend the majority of their time preparing for. This great emphasis on Sunday is often justified because it's when people gather to meet with God.

But new research released this week from Barna reveals that most churchgoers rarely experience God in worship services. While most people surveyed can recall a "real and personal connection" with God while at church (66%), they also reported that these connections are "rare." Among those who attend church every week, less than half (44%) say they experience God's presence. And one-third of those who have attended church report never feeling God's presence in a worship gathering.

Tim Tebow represents America’s two great religions: Christianity and Football. But the way the young Denver Broncos’ quarterback intertwines the two has made some followers of each faith uncomfortable. His post-game interviews always begin with “I’d like to thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ,” and he frequently drops to one knee on the field and bows his head in prayer--a posture now called Tebowing. (Check out the website featuring photos of others Tebowing in public places.)

But Tim Tebow’s behavior on the field does raise important questions about prayer and how Christians ought to practice it. Andrew Sullivan criticized Tim Tebow saying his public prayers violate Jesus’ teaching in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7) where he taught his followers to pray in private:

"And when you pray, you must not be like the hypocrites. For they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, that they may be seen by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.” (Matthew 6:5-6)

Referencing Tebow’s habit of praying during NFL games before millions of spectators, Sullivan asks “Why does a Christian publicly repudiate the God he worships?” Is Sullivan right? Is Tim Tebow actually violating the teachings of Christ with his behavior on the field? The answer is more complicated than critics of publicly practiced religion may prefer.

Last semester I assigned the students in the community college World Religions course I teach a series of writing exercises that (I hoped) would help them personalize and internalize the subject matter we were reading about and discussing in class. There were four assignments total, one every four weeks or so. And each was a little more probing. My goal was simply to get these students from diverse religious backgrounds thinking about their experience with religion, assumptions about religious claims, how they understand the role religion plays in their lives.

The projects were enlightening for many of them. Several told me they’d never thought about these things before, and they’re glad they did. What I hadn’t expected was how enlightening their responses would be for me.

Discussions about why young folk leave the faith and how to get them back continue to generate a lot of heat. My observations here are anecdotal, not scientific. But I found it useful to reflect on the general trends that emerged from my students’ reports. They have a lot to say about this ever elusive demographic.

First some trends I did not find surprising.

Spiritual but not religious.
Consistent with the conventional wisdom about young people—and maybe even older people—in America, the vast majority of my students were quick to identify as spiritual—as believing in something out there bigger than themselves—but were hesitant to identify as religious.