On-point and well-articulated. Thank you. One factor you don't mention is (our) liberal/progressive Christianity's self-affirming, self-perpetuating and careerist ethos. In 3+ decades of pastoral ministry and 2 decades teaching and advising students at a preeminent liberal seminary, I've found that the liberal approach puts almost no energy or creativity (let alone an expectant trust in God) into grappling with people's genuine longing for spiritual depth/relevance in today's world. Instead, my experience from inside liberal/progressive Christianity is that again and again we confuse the symptom(s) of an encounter with the Divine with the thing itself. The result is an ever-shrinking echo-chamber inside of which the primary goal is attaching one's name (and brand) to the "correct" stance on one or more social issues. These issues are important to me and many others, to be sure, but because it violates our self-interest, we have not only failed to recognize--we've refused to accept--that they're not enough at the hospice bedside, the delivery room, or (increasingly) in the pews.
Reading this piece stirred in me a deep ache and a quiet affirmation. As someone who has walked alongside individuals at the very edges of society—young people from child welfare systems, adults facing homelessness, and workers trying to rebuild after loss—I’ve seen firsthand the gap between rich theological reflection and meaningful, transformative community. The article captures this paradox well: the seminaries and sanctuaries may be emptying, but the theological presses are still running hot.
The diagnosis is compelling. A "perfect storm" indeed: liberalism’s emphasis on individual freedom, Christianity’s call to communal life, and consumer capitalism’s corrosive pull on both. The evidence is visible—aging congregations, shrinking budgets, disconnection from broader culture. And yet I wonder: are we asking the right questions about what we are truly losing? And what we still might yet find?
Is liberal Christianity dying? Perhaps it is. But maybe the more important question is: What form of faith is being born?
From my perspective, the issue is not merely institutional viability or branding. It is spiritual credibility. For all its intellectual rigour, liberal theology often seems to lack the capacity to generate awe, transformation, or belonging. It thins out the mysteries. It hedges its proclamations. In doing so, it sometimes becomes indistinguishable from secular activism or polite moralism. And people, especially those living with deep wounds or seeking deep healing, rarely come to church seeking a well-qualified nuance. They come looking for presence.
Is this a crisis of belief or a crisis of belonging? In many cases, I think it’s the latter. Humans are relational beings—we are wired for connection, for meaning that arises in communion. In my work and life, I've seen how people flourish not from clarity alone, but from accompaniment, from others walking beside them without judgment or agenda.
I once experienced this when I was at my lowest—having lost a child, my ministry, and almost everything else I thought defined me. Theology couldn’t fix me. But someone simply sat with me in silence. That encounter has shaped my understanding of the sacred more than any sermon. If our churches cannot be places of deep, patient presence, then no theological framework—liberal or otherwise—will save them.
Is liberal theology too late? Only if it continues trying to preserve what was. I believe there is still a future for a faith that is honest, humble, and engaged. But that future will not look like the past. It may not be built around traditional congregations. It might be small, scattered, rooted in kitchens and cafés more than cathedrals. It might require us to listen more than we speak, to walk with rather than stand above.
What’s worth preserving? The courage to question. The insistence that justice and mercy belong together. The refusal to retreat into anti-intellectualism. But also—perhaps most importantly—a commitment to spiritual depth, to practices that form character and community, not just opinions. We must not forget that transformation is not merely cognitive. People long to be part of something that matters, that helps them become more loving, more human, more whole.
What would I hope for? That we stop asking how to save liberal Christianity and start asking what it means to bear witness in our time. That we learn to gather, even in small ways, around tables of grace and truth. That we rebuild trust, not through doctrinal certainty, but through faithful presence. That we become communities not of answers, but of love that listens, grieves, celebrates, and stays.
As the article closes with Whitehead’s metaphor of letting the dove out of the ark, I find myself wondering: Have we confused the ark for the journey? Maybe it's time to step off the boat, onto unfamiliar land, and build again—not for preservation, but for the sake of those still searching the horizon for signs of life.
So well said. I am not a pastor but a layperson. An unchurched atheist for most of my life. I struggle, and am tired of struggling, inside my liberal church around what you have articulated here. I became a Christian through a presence I didn’t understand. The mystery. The tears I shed that I didn’t understand.
I want those small tables, and to bring this healing to others. My church is just not interested. They are looking backwards. They are timid.
How do I help build and be a part of this new thing that maybe is being born? What is my role? That is my question.
As someone who straddles many "worlds," one thing I find most frustrating is that fundamentalism is present in almost all of those worlds. The attitude that fundamentalism is simply a right-wing conservative ideology obscures the truth that fundamentalism infects almost all parts of our current moment in history. (At least in the US) We have lost the ability to engage with diverse and challenging ideas and have become poorer for that.
The very fact that embodied communities of faith are optional for the entire spectrum of faith is a symptom of the larger problem. Modernism removed the mystery of transformative communities and, regardless of attempts, I am afraid we may have lost the ability to articulate communal imagination in discourse and in life itself.
You highlight the moment well. I just wonder if we have the imagination to find a way out of it.
I really appreciate you bringing all of these factors together — I feel like I've stumbled onto most of them before, but hadn't been able to see them as a whole.
I've only been seriously following your work for a little while, so forgive me if this is obvious, but: have you written anything like a parallel exploration of how liberal churches might fix this? (I think a lot of us might benefit, for example, from an examination of some of the more common things that progressive congregations are trying, matched up with which of these problems they address.)
But it would be fun to discuss more and maybe get input from people trying stuff. I’m not optimistic about existing congregations given the incentive structures. I’m also generally hopeful about the gospel.
Listened to it, and — does it need to be said? — loved it! (Though this is coming from an agnostic, so, consider the source?) I particularly appreciated the care you both take to the difficulties of integrating mythic and modern ways of understanding.
What I was thinking about before, though, was something different — an expansive look at the sorts of practical experiments that progressive churches have been trying to stay... "relevant"? (Not sure that's the best word, but.) I'm thinking things like agape dinners, interfaith dialogues, social-justice-aligned preaching, labyrinth walks, Enneagram workshops... It strikes me that, armed with your categorization of the crises facing the movement, it'd be possible to get some immediate intuitions on which of these activities might be the most promising for exploration, and which might be well-meaning time sucks. (But again: this is coming from an agnostic! Consider the source.)
Thank you. This analysis explains some of my own uneasiness in the writing world and propensity not to attend church unless I'm called in for consulting. I watch evangelical social activists and it seems they can bridge the gap in ways I've not understood in the past.
Well, golly. I could submit this to the church (of which I'm still a member, albeit at a distance) as an analysis from an expert with a briefcase and shined shoes from a distance of greater than a hundred miles away, and it would be completely on target, again and again; and,
I'd be paid, thanked for the effort and presentation, shown the door, and my cell number'd be blocked, never to be contacted again. The 'Organ Endowment' bit would really sting in that presentation, because at present, the actual endowment is carrying half the operating expense, and ALL of the capital maintenance and repair expense. When one raises the question of the cost of preservation of the physical plant (it's gorgeous, and 175 years old) being $4K a week, and the entire outreach budget is maybe just four times that, feet get fidgity. Folks get quiet, look at their shoes and change the subject (which was my experience as Treasurer). The total cost, all in, is $12K a week, and short of volunteers removing snow and ice, mowing the grounds and maintaining a worship schedule and services, there's no living within pledge income to be had. Plus we're most of us too old and tired to maintain our own homes AND pitch in to that degree. And your point about congregation numbers? The demographics of the upper Midwest (and the States, for that matter) are pointing clearly enough to demise of the way we were: the Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Minnesota told us last year that "Jesus is coming back; the 1950's aren't" The economics for young adults are such that NOBODY'S up to managing an annual, per household pledge of $6,000 that's needed to make the whole thing go 'round without the endowment income. I think there's a whole different question, and whole different set of answers to be looked at rising from this fine analysis and assessment. So, Thanks. And someone will walk you to your car....
Quite the helpful, well-written, and thought-provoking analysis! Thanks for posting, Tripp. As a pastor in a conservative, evangelical tradition, I often wonder if Liberalism, at least in non-academic venues has strayed from its foundational commitments (that you mention) and has drifted, ironically, into its own settled and walled-in form of fundamentalism. I minister in a very progressive/secular suburb and find younger "progressives" increasingly curious about our tradition precisely because they find the mainline churches to be parroting the rigid dogmatism they seem to be suffocating under in the cultural institutions they are forced to inhabit. I'm not so sure the Fundamentalists are cornering the market these days on condemning inquiry and curiosity. The mainline churches seem to be upholding our unfortunate practice quite well, albeit with a different set of dogmas guarded under lock and key. And...I can't help but wonder if those churches feel emboldened in their practice precisely because of how the liberal theological academy is engaging (more, not carefully engaging) outside traditions, especially those of my own.
I think u r right in a number of ways. Practicing radical welcome does not equal making cultural/identitarian concerns tantamount to the gospel. Also, evangelicals and more historic traditions are better at giving strong takes about the reality of God and God’s desire for one’s life. I have former youth who joined the Catholic Church and when I asked they said, “it’s old, there are no rainbow or MAGA bumper stickers, they love Jesus, & they feed/care/empower people.” When we discussed theology it was clear they still thought like a liberal Protestant but found more grounding in the tradition.
I’ve been thinking about this problem from a different angle, but it’s the same issue. I come to theology as a non-religious person, and though there are some people who resent that I am as ostensibly secular as I am, I’ve always felt grateful for the fact that the institutions created by liberal theology have made space for me anyhow. I think the academic spaces that exist because of liberal theology are messy, and weird and interesting, and compelling for that reason (because they are odd). And esoteric though they may be, I know that there are people who are drawn to them for especially that reason; odd spaces harbor lots of creative potential. I’ve always imagined, or maybe just hoped, that theology as an intellectual space could become more diverse and pluralistic. But without the structures (the institutions) created by the liberal church, that space just doesn’t exist at all in the US.
I love the ability for the theologian in the academy to cross disciplines. It makes it a never-ending space of exploration. I do wonder if the space liberal theology created was in part sustained by the culture dominance of Protestantism in America, and part of the crisis in theology a result of the decline’s impact on its institutions. Loved your peice at the Other journal.
I think it absolutely is the problem. Protestantism created these institutions, and also created space in the institutions for internal critique. Whatever academic theology is exists because of that….
This is an excellent essay Tripp. Pointing out this sober reality is needed, and the clarion call to alter it, awaits those of us for whom Christian spirituality is still meaningful. Tripp, would you be willing to come on my podcast, the Iconoclast, and discuss this essay? I would love to have you. I've been a fan for a number of years and have been marked by your thoughts and moves. ~dmp
That generalization might apply to many “liberal” churches—whatever that is—but not at the church I attend. We have a family and children’s table in the sanctuary. Children color, do other crafts, laugh, and be present while they are immersed in worship. They also take communion which we observe every Sunday. To be liberal is to be free but church belongs to Christ who has freed all who believe from the shackles and constructions of mindless rule following rather than sacred worship. I would not characterize churches as liberal or conservative rather more on a continuum of how much they value and adhere to rules and traditions and how much they welcome and respond creatively to new circumstances.
Important talk, thank you Tripp. The factor that I missed was issues of language. God is always spoken of as Almighty, Father, Lord, King, for example, representing past thinking. This language is such a barrier to younger people. 'Our Father which art in Heaven' says it all. We have to use new translations and new words to express modern concepts of God, the concepts that you expressed so well in your talk about Process theology.
Thank you so much for pulling all this together and this wonderful essay. I really appreciate and must say I got a few chuckles along the way. I really love reading your essays.
On-point and well-articulated. Thank you. One factor you don't mention is (our) liberal/progressive Christianity's self-affirming, self-perpetuating and careerist ethos. In 3+ decades of pastoral ministry and 2 decades teaching and advising students at a preeminent liberal seminary, I've found that the liberal approach puts almost no energy or creativity (let alone an expectant trust in God) into grappling with people's genuine longing for spiritual depth/relevance in today's world. Instead, my experience from inside liberal/progressive Christianity is that again and again we confuse the symptom(s) of an encounter with the Divine with the thing itself. The result is an ever-shrinking echo-chamber inside of which the primary goal is attaching one's name (and brand) to the "correct" stance on one or more social issues. These issues are important to me and many others, to be sure, but because it violates our self-interest, we have not only failed to recognize--we've refused to accept--that they're not enough at the hospice bedside, the delivery room, or (increasingly) in the pews.
amen!
Reading this piece stirred in me a deep ache and a quiet affirmation. As someone who has walked alongside individuals at the very edges of society—young people from child welfare systems, adults facing homelessness, and workers trying to rebuild after loss—I’ve seen firsthand the gap between rich theological reflection and meaningful, transformative community. The article captures this paradox well: the seminaries and sanctuaries may be emptying, but the theological presses are still running hot.
The diagnosis is compelling. A "perfect storm" indeed: liberalism’s emphasis on individual freedom, Christianity’s call to communal life, and consumer capitalism’s corrosive pull on both. The evidence is visible—aging congregations, shrinking budgets, disconnection from broader culture. And yet I wonder: are we asking the right questions about what we are truly losing? And what we still might yet find?
Is liberal Christianity dying? Perhaps it is. But maybe the more important question is: What form of faith is being born?
From my perspective, the issue is not merely institutional viability or branding. It is spiritual credibility. For all its intellectual rigour, liberal theology often seems to lack the capacity to generate awe, transformation, or belonging. It thins out the mysteries. It hedges its proclamations. In doing so, it sometimes becomes indistinguishable from secular activism or polite moralism. And people, especially those living with deep wounds or seeking deep healing, rarely come to church seeking a well-qualified nuance. They come looking for presence.
Is this a crisis of belief or a crisis of belonging? In many cases, I think it’s the latter. Humans are relational beings—we are wired for connection, for meaning that arises in communion. In my work and life, I've seen how people flourish not from clarity alone, but from accompaniment, from others walking beside them without judgment or agenda.
I once experienced this when I was at my lowest—having lost a child, my ministry, and almost everything else I thought defined me. Theology couldn’t fix me. But someone simply sat with me in silence. That encounter has shaped my understanding of the sacred more than any sermon. If our churches cannot be places of deep, patient presence, then no theological framework—liberal or otherwise—will save them.
Is liberal theology too late? Only if it continues trying to preserve what was. I believe there is still a future for a faith that is honest, humble, and engaged. But that future will not look like the past. It may not be built around traditional congregations. It might be small, scattered, rooted in kitchens and cafés more than cathedrals. It might require us to listen more than we speak, to walk with rather than stand above.
What’s worth preserving? The courage to question. The insistence that justice and mercy belong together. The refusal to retreat into anti-intellectualism. But also—perhaps most importantly—a commitment to spiritual depth, to practices that form character and community, not just opinions. We must not forget that transformation is not merely cognitive. People long to be part of something that matters, that helps them become more loving, more human, more whole.
What would I hope for? That we stop asking how to save liberal Christianity and start asking what it means to bear witness in our time. That we learn to gather, even in small ways, around tables of grace and truth. That we rebuild trust, not through doctrinal certainty, but through faithful presence. That we become communities not of answers, but of love that listens, grieves, celebrates, and stays.
As the article closes with Whitehead’s metaphor of letting the dove out of the ark, I find myself wondering: Have we confused the ark for the journey? Maybe it's time to step off the boat, onto unfamiliar land, and build again—not for preservation, but for the sake of those still searching the horizon for signs of life.
So well said. I am not a pastor but a layperson. An unchurched atheist for most of my life. I struggle, and am tired of struggling, inside my liberal church around what you have articulated here. I became a Christian through a presence I didn’t understand. The mystery. The tears I shed that I didn’t understand.
I want those small tables, and to bring this healing to others. My church is just not interested. They are looking backwards. They are timid.
How do I help build and be a part of this new thing that maybe is being born? What is my role? That is my question.
As someone who straddles many "worlds," one thing I find most frustrating is that fundamentalism is present in almost all of those worlds. The attitude that fundamentalism is simply a right-wing conservative ideology obscures the truth that fundamentalism infects almost all parts of our current moment in history. (At least in the US) We have lost the ability to engage with diverse and challenging ideas and have become poorer for that.
The very fact that embodied communities of faith are optional for the entire spectrum of faith is a symptom of the larger problem. Modernism removed the mystery of transformative communities and, regardless of attempts, I am afraid we may have lost the ability to articulate communal imagination in discourse and in life itself.
You highlight the moment well. I just wonder if we have the imagination to find a way out of it.
great point
I really appreciate you bringing all of these factors together — I feel like I've stumbled onto most of them before, but hadn't been able to see them as a whole.
I've only been seriously following your work for a little while, so forgive me if this is obvious, but: have you written anything like a parallel exploration of how liberal churches might fix this? (I think a lot of us might benefit, for example, from an examination of some of the more common things that progressive congregations are trying, matched up with which of these problems they address.)
Bo and I discussed it on TNT here: https://pca.st/episode/3ffe0e3a-3da9-445b-8dee-930cb064ea65
But it would be fun to discuss more and maybe get input from people trying stuff. I’m not optimistic about existing congregations given the incentive structures. I’m also generally hopeful about the gospel.
Listened to it, and — does it need to be said? — loved it! (Though this is coming from an agnostic, so, consider the source?) I particularly appreciated the care you both take to the difficulties of integrating mythic and modern ways of understanding.
What I was thinking about before, though, was something different — an expansive look at the sorts of practical experiments that progressive churches have been trying to stay... "relevant"? (Not sure that's the best word, but.) I'm thinking things like agape dinners, interfaith dialogues, social-justice-aligned preaching, labyrinth walks, Enneagram workshops... It strikes me that, armed with your categorization of the crises facing the movement, it'd be possible to get some immediate intuitions on which of these activities might be the most promising for exploration, and which might be well-meaning time sucks. (But again: this is coming from an agnostic! Consider the source.)
Thanks! I'll give it a listen.
Thank you. This analysis explains some of my own uneasiness in the writing world and propensity not to attend church unless I'm called in for consulting. I watch evangelical social activists and it seems they can bridge the gap in ways I've not understood in the past.
You are not alone
Well, golly. I could submit this to the church (of which I'm still a member, albeit at a distance) as an analysis from an expert with a briefcase and shined shoes from a distance of greater than a hundred miles away, and it would be completely on target, again and again; and,
I'd be paid, thanked for the effort and presentation, shown the door, and my cell number'd be blocked, never to be contacted again. The 'Organ Endowment' bit would really sting in that presentation, because at present, the actual endowment is carrying half the operating expense, and ALL of the capital maintenance and repair expense. When one raises the question of the cost of preservation of the physical plant (it's gorgeous, and 175 years old) being $4K a week, and the entire outreach budget is maybe just four times that, feet get fidgity. Folks get quiet, look at their shoes and change the subject (which was my experience as Treasurer). The total cost, all in, is $12K a week, and short of volunteers removing snow and ice, mowing the grounds and maintaining a worship schedule and services, there's no living within pledge income to be had. Plus we're most of us too old and tired to maintain our own homes AND pitch in to that degree. And your point about congregation numbers? The demographics of the upper Midwest (and the States, for that matter) are pointing clearly enough to demise of the way we were: the Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Minnesota told us last year that "Jesus is coming back; the 1950's aren't" The economics for young adults are such that NOBODY'S up to managing an annual, per household pledge of $6,000 that's needed to make the whole thing go 'round without the endowment income. I think there's a whole different question, and whole different set of answers to be looked at rising from this fine analysis and assessment. So, Thanks. And someone will walk you to your car....
I know the feeling.
Quite the helpful, well-written, and thought-provoking analysis! Thanks for posting, Tripp. As a pastor in a conservative, evangelical tradition, I often wonder if Liberalism, at least in non-academic venues has strayed from its foundational commitments (that you mention) and has drifted, ironically, into its own settled and walled-in form of fundamentalism. I minister in a very progressive/secular suburb and find younger "progressives" increasingly curious about our tradition precisely because they find the mainline churches to be parroting the rigid dogmatism they seem to be suffocating under in the cultural institutions they are forced to inhabit. I'm not so sure the Fundamentalists are cornering the market these days on condemning inquiry and curiosity. The mainline churches seem to be upholding our unfortunate practice quite well, albeit with a different set of dogmas guarded under lock and key. And...I can't help but wonder if those churches feel emboldened in their practice precisely because of how the liberal theological academy is engaging (more, not carefully engaging) outside traditions, especially those of my own.
I think u r right in a number of ways. Practicing radical welcome does not equal making cultural/identitarian concerns tantamount to the gospel. Also, evangelicals and more historic traditions are better at giving strong takes about the reality of God and God’s desire for one’s life. I have former youth who joined the Catholic Church and when I asked they said, “it’s old, there are no rainbow or MAGA bumper stickers, they love Jesus, & they feed/care/empower people.” When we discussed theology it was clear they still thought like a liberal Protestant but found more grounding in the tradition.
Wow, I'm tempted to say "Incisive as hell!" but I'll just say, "Very incisive." I can sure see that I am part of the problem.
I felt very similar writing it.
I’ve been thinking about this problem from a different angle, but it’s the same issue. I come to theology as a non-religious person, and though there are some people who resent that I am as ostensibly secular as I am, I’ve always felt grateful for the fact that the institutions created by liberal theology have made space for me anyhow. I think the academic spaces that exist because of liberal theology are messy, and weird and interesting, and compelling for that reason (because they are odd). And esoteric though they may be, I know that there are people who are drawn to them for especially that reason; odd spaces harbor lots of creative potential. I’ve always imagined, or maybe just hoped, that theology as an intellectual space could become more diverse and pluralistic. But without the structures (the institutions) created by the liberal church, that space just doesn’t exist at all in the US.
I love the ability for the theologian in the academy to cross disciplines. It makes it a never-ending space of exploration. I do wonder if the space liberal theology created was in part sustained by the culture dominance of Protestantism in America, and part of the crisis in theology a result of the decline’s impact on its institutions. Loved your peice at the Other journal.
Check it out here: https://theotherjournal.com/2025/06/is-theology-dying/
I think it absolutely is the problem. Protestantism created these institutions, and also created space in the institutions for internal critique. Whatever academic theology is exists because of that….
This is an excellent essay Tripp. Pointing out this sober reality is needed, and the clarion call to alter it, awaits those of us for whom Christian spirituality is still meaningful. Tripp, would you be willing to come on my podcast, the Iconoclast, and discuss this essay? I would love to have you. I've been a fan for a number of years and have been marked by your thoughts and moves. ~dmp
sure. i get back from a big trip July 10 so after that I am flexible.
Wonderful Tripp. Thats good timing for me as well. I’ll find you then and I look forward to it.
That generalization might apply to many “liberal” churches—whatever that is—but not at the church I attend. We have a family and children’s table in the sanctuary. Children color, do other crafts, laugh, and be present while they are immersed in worship. They also take communion which we observe every Sunday. To be liberal is to be free but church belongs to Christ who has freed all who believe from the shackles and constructions of mindless rule following rather than sacred worship. I would not characterize churches as liberal or conservative rather more on a continuum of how much they value and adhere to rules and traditions and how much they welcome and respond creatively to new circumstances.
i am sure I am not the only one jealous about your community!
Important talk, thank you Tripp. The factor that I missed was issues of language. God is always spoken of as Almighty, Father, Lord, King, for example, representing past thinking. This language is such a barrier to younger people. 'Our Father which art in Heaven' says it all. We have to use new translations and new words to express modern concepts of God, the concepts that you expressed so well in your talk about Process theology.
amen!
Dr Wilda Gafney is a great resource in this regards.
Thank you so much for pulling all this together and this wonderful essay. I really appreciate and must say I got a few chuckles along the way. I really love reading your essays.
thanks Michelle:)
Thoughtful, convicting, and a piece to revisit to find a way to move forward. Thank you, Tripp.
Thanks!
Great commentary Tripp!
Thanks Lori
You have summed this up perfectly. Thank you!
Thank You