There is a great deal of concern among Christians that the younger generation is seemingly disinterested in today’s church. There are a number of theories as to why.

It is widely believed that teens and twenty-somethings have turned away from the church for one or more of the following reasons:

• They find it boring.
• They can’t relate to the preaching.
• They don’t like the music.
• They have short attention spans.
• They feel that they don’t fit in.

While all these things may contribute to the younger generation’s aversion to the church, I believe there is more to it than a desire for relevance, acceptance, and an eight-piece double bass drum set.
​
According to a study I read recently, do you know what it is that the younger generation most wants to see in today’s church? Adults who are real.

You see, young people can spot a fake a mile away. And what they desire most in God's church are adults who are the real deal, who are the same outside of church than they are inside, who are honest about their problems and how they are affected by them.

Especially in today’s world, with the disintegration of the family, young people need a safe haven where they can be themselves; where they can share struggles, ask questions, and admit fears. But for many people—young and old alike—the church is the least safe place to be vulnerable.

In my ministry, I have been blessed to work with a number of recovering addicts, many of whom grew up in the church. Their mantra is the same. They have found more grace, love, and acceptance in 12-step groups than they did in God’s church. 

Some time ago, I came across a guy I had gone to high school with. He was raised in a church-going family, but took a left turn when he entered his teen years. Last I had heard he wasn’t exactly walking close to the Lord. Imagine my surprise when our paths crossed years later and I heard him openly and excitedly sharing his newly-ignited faith. I couldn’t help but acknowledge the difference I saw in him and ask, “What church did you get plugged into?”

I was totally unprepared for his response. He laughed and said, “I didn’t find Christ in the church. I found Him in A.A.!”

As a defender of God’s church, I was initially offended by his response. But after he explained, I became challenged by it.

He viewed A.A. as a safe place, where everyone is on a level playing field; a place where sinners can openly acknowledge their shortcomings without fear of being judged; a place where pretending and pride are not tolerated, where support and encouragement flows freely.

I immediately realized that is not a description of today’s church.

I recognize that there are many congregations out there who are getting it right. If you belong to such a church community, you are blessed. But if your church is not worthy of the adjectives loving, forgiving, grace-filled, and accepting, I pray that change would begin with you.    
 
It’s my hunch that God’s original design for the church was that it more resemble an A.A. meeting than what it has become today. 

The man knelt in the cemetery, his eyes fixed on his father’s gravestone.

I sure miss you, Dad. There are so many times I want to call you just to hear your voice once again. The kids talk about you all the time. You wouldn’t believe how they’ve grown. It’s hard to imagine it’s been a year already. I just want you to know that I thank God for you every day. You were such a good dad. Always had an encouraging word. Always there for me—at every game and band concert, at my side when I was having a bad day. Always knowing just what to say to get me through every situation. You taught me what it means to be a good father. You taught me how to love. I am what I am because of you.

At another cemetery in the same town stood a man, his hands in his pockets, before his father’s gravestone.

I don’t even know why I’m here. My shrink thought it was a good idea. I’m not so sure. You never listened to me when you were alive, why on earth would you listen when you’re dead?

How I wish I could forget you. But every day I’m haunted by the memories. The drinking, the raging, the cursing, the hitting; choosing to spend time with your buddies at the bar instead of coming home to your son. I’ll say this about you, Dad, you devoted time to the things you loved most. And now thanks to you I get to go through life unable to trust. Incapable of getting close to anyone. Paralyzed by fear. Always second-guessing myself. Feeling that no matter what I do it will never be good enough. I have no clue what it means to be a man. And I have you to thank. I am what I am because of you.

We cannot choose the kind of relationship, if any, we had with our fathers. I would never have chosen to be born of an alcoholic dad. It would not have been my choice to have a childhood marked by that kind of abuse, heartache, and disappointment. But, as I became an adult, I was led to realize that there are many things I could choose in life.

So I chose not to be a victim.

I chose not to be defined by my father’s alcoholism.

I chose to rise above my circumstances.

But the single biggest choice that started me on the path to wholeness and healing was this: I chose to pursue a relationship with my Heavenly Father.

Although I couldn’t comprehend why God allowed this burden in my life I made a conscious decision not to turn my back on my Heavenly Father just because my earthly father turned his back on me. I chose to find out the truth about Him. And that truth has led to unimaginable freedom.

• He is a Father I can trust.
• He is a Father I don’t have to be afraid of.
• He is a Father who delights in spending time with me.
• He is a Father who offers to replace my pain with His peace.
• He is a Father who uses heart-wrenching experiences in the lives of His children to strengthen our resolve, to deepen our faith, and to teach us to trust.

I now humbly kneel before my Heavenly Father and say, I am what I am because of You.

I hadn’t seen him since high school. I must admit, the memories dredged from my pool of thought did not inspire me to greet him with warm affection. 

I remembered Ed as a trouble maker. He was big for his age and he used that to his advantage, often pushing late bloomers like me out of his way. Worst of all, he got busted for drugs, an offense made more offensive because we attended a Christian school.

I vaguely remember hearing something about his having family problems. But he didn’t let me or anyone else get close enough to him to find out if it was true. 

And now, here he was, decades later, talking openly about his life-changing encounter with Jesus. It wasn’t just talk. The spiritual change in him was palpable. His whole countenance was changed. Ed was a totally different person.

So stunning was his transformation that I had to ask, “What church did you get plugged into to bring about such a change?”

I will never forget his response. He sneered, reminiscent of the guy I remembered in high school, and said, “I didn’t find Christ in the church. I found Him at A.A.”

I share that story in one of my talks. Church people don’t like it much. But rather than be offended by Ed’s comment, I encourage Christians to be challenged by it.

For those not familiar with A.A., Alcoholics Anonymous is a place where:

• Sinners are safe from judgment, no matter what you’ve done.

• There is no reason to pretend that you have your act together because no one there has their act together.
  
• No one cares how you look or dress or talk or vote--all that matters is that you know that you matter. 
  
• Shame is never used to try to make you conform to a particular standard of behavior.

There are many wounded souls like Ed who would not apply that same definition to today’s church. Many struggling people have turned to the church for acceptance and love, grace and forgiveness, only to leave with an even deeper sense of regret and shame. 

If you asked Christians for the first thought that comes to mind when they hear the word sanctuary, most will make reference to the big room in a church where worship services are held. But there is another definition of the word that we often don’t consider. Sanctuary is also defined as: a safe place; a refuge for the oppressed; a place that provides protection.

Most churches have a sanctuary. But how many churches are a sanctuary? 

For far too many--particularly those who are entangled in sinful behavior--the church is the least safe place for them to be. It is the place where they feel most oppressed. It is the place where they feel least protected.  

In all His encounters with struggling and sinful people, Jesus never once used shame to modify their behavior. Truth is, there was no safer person to be with. Jesus was called Refuge, Fortress, High Tower, Strength and Shield. Jesus met people in the midst of their deepest sin and offered grace, not guilt; serenity, not sermons; healing, not more hurt. Jesus not only took all our sins to the cross to die, but all our shame.

One has to believe that He would want His church looking a lot more like A.A. and a lot less like what it has become for way too many people.