If you assume young people disdain anything resembling Grandma’s church, you misunderstand the generational shift. Based on the statistics, Grandma probably didn’t even go to church…Meanwhile, Gen Z is fascinated by the trappings, craving the crumbs that fall from the mysterious church’s table. They want the weird.
A core value of the seeker-sensitive movement of the 1980s and 1990s—and still an underlying principle in many prominent megachurches—was the conviction that the way to reach people was to get rid of the stuffy, old-fashioned elements of church. Worship services were reimagined to help non-Christians feel at home.
Old hymns gave way to contemporary worship anthems (and sometimes secular songs). Big pulpits were replaced by tables or music stands. Stained glass windows in cross-shaped sanctuaries were exchanged for big-box auditoriums with excellent lighting. Choir robes disappeared, and young worship teams took center stage. Careful biblical exposition was often set aside for sermons addressing a listener’s “felt needs.” Anything that felt outdated, uncomfortable, or “weird,” like the strange smell from Grandma’s basement carpet, had to go. Gone too were overt spiritual manifestations like praying all at once or speaking in tongues.
The strategy was clear: to surprise the world by making church feel less like, well, church.
Two Unexpected Trends
Fast forward to today. Two seemingly opposing trends have puzzled me. First, there’s a clear movement among younger generations toward rooted, established forms of worship—often termed “high church”—with a focus on liturgy, sacraments, and ritualistic elements. Stories abound of young men drawn to Eastern Orthodoxy, increased interest in Roman Catholicism among young Brits, and even Baptists rediscovering liturgical worship.
Simultaneously, a different wave is drawing young people toward passionate, exuberant contemporary worship, in multiple denominations that now display elements often associated with charismatic or Pentecostal circles. Luke Simon sees a possible gender divide in these two trends. There’s something to that analysis, and yet statistically, the larger flow in terms of conversion and discipleship for both men and women tends toward these vibrant, less formal “low-church” services.
Until recently, I had a hard time reconciling these countervailing trends: Why would young people flock both to highly traditional liturgical services and lively charismatic worship?
Rediscovering Mystery
The answer became clear recently when my friend Glen Scrivener shared his thoughts on the quiet revival among U.K. youth. Glen identified the common thread connecting the allure of both low-church charismatic services and high-church liturgical experiences: The attraction is precisely their “churchiness.” Although the forms differ, the substance is similar. Both expressions stand radically apart from secular culture by embracing mystery and transcendence. Whether it’s the fervor of Pentecostal worship or the rhythm of sacramental traditions, both resonate deeply in a flattened, disenchanted world.
Pope Leo XIV has said the church’s mission includes introducing people to “mystery as an antidote to spectacle.” Ironically, this quote circulated after the papal conclave, a spectacle if ever there was one!
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