Why The Church Misses The Change It Seeks

It Worked. That Was The Problem.

I spent years planting and pastoring what has been labeled “church,” hitting goals and earning applause. By every external metric, it worked.

But the more successful things became, the more I wrestled with a simple question: What difference are we actually making?

Sure, the church was growing—but rarely with people who had no interest in Jesus or church. Growth mostly came from Christians looking for a better church, or those returning after a long hiatus—in the wake of a personal crisis.

And it turns out, this isn’t an isolated experience.

According to national church trend analyses, only about 3% of church growth in the U.S. comes from people who are new believers in Jesus.

Around that time, I began reading a wave of so-called “missional thinkers.” Many of them centered their work around a line from the late Richard Niebuhr:

“The great Christian transformations didn’t come from the discovery of something new, but from taking radically something that was always there.”

As I pressed in, the conversation consistently narrowed around the need to rethink discipleship through a single biblical text—Ephesians 4—where Paul names apostles, prophets, evangelists, shepherds, and teachers.

The argument was compelling: the modern church had overemphasized teachers and shepherds (pastors), while neglecting apostles, prophets, and evangelists. If we wanted momentum and mission again, we needed to reorganize the Church around all five.

So I ran with it.

And it worked—really well.

In just three years, I helped start fifty missional communities that eventually became three new church plants across the city of Chicago. Word spread quickly. Church leaders called for advice. Conferences invited me to speak.

But there was one problem: we were still growing primarily through Christians leaving their church for ours.  

Something had to give. Because this isn’t what the Church exists for. And it certainly wasn’t what I wanted to give my life to.

When Growth Stops Feeling Like Change

That frustration sent me deeper into what Richard Niebuhr could’ve meant by “taking radically something that was always there.” And contrary to what has become popular in the name of Christianity—I discovered the issue wasn’t a misunderstanding of one verse in Ephesians 4.

It was a much quieter problem. One that doesn’t show up in sermons, mission statements, or strategy decks—but shows up everywhere else.

Because when you step back and look honestly at how the modern idea of church actually functions, a pattern emerges from mega to micro expressions. It’s incredibly organized around things we can manage—services, programs, content, outcomes.

But freedom is learned in places we can’t control. 
In open-ended conversations that wander.
In friendships that are messy and inconvenient.
At tables where nothing is being sold, fixed, or managed.

This is where a movement of relief meets a weary world—because this is where humans actually learn to live free.

That kind of life is rare today. Not because people don’t want it, but because, like me, they were formed by a version of faith that quietly placed pressure on everything to produce results.

A pressure that quietly suffocates the very freedom we say we’re offering.

The Problem We Never Meant to Learn

Perhaps this is what Niebuhr was pointing toward.

Not a new structure, or a forgotten leadership role. But a recovery of “something that’s always been there”—and almost always been missed:

The news of the God who has already made His home in us all.  

That good news, unveiled by Jesus, was the foundation for everything the early Church did. But over time, it was buried—first under Greek ideas about a distant and demanding God, then under Roman instincts for order, hierarchy, and control (see: This Is Not That: Backstory).

The result?

Grace became a concept we believe instead of a reality we live. Faith became effort aimed at change instead of trust in who Jesus is for us. And the Church became something we attend—rather than something we already are.

And so, here we are today, operating out of that formation. 

We talk to people about freedom—while forming them through pressure.

We preach grace—while organizing life around performance.

We push mission—while remaining too guarded, or agenda-driven to love people where they are.

And without realizing it, we offer the world a version of Christianity that talks endlessly about healing—while quietly training people to hide.

That’s the tragedy.

Not that we lack sincerity—but that we have sincere faith in a conditional God who puts the burden of belonging on humans.

The Way Forward

The way forward isn’t a new structure or strategy. It’s a new way of seeing. Or more accurately, seeing again.

Seeing God the way Jesus does.

Because when we do—everything else begins to realign.

People don’t have to perform to belong.
They don’t have to hide to stay included.
They don’t have to fix themselves before showing up.

They can be present.
Honest.
Hospitable without an agenda.

This is why the work of renewal doesn’t happen on stages or in systems. It begins when we put the Church back where Jesus placed it—around tables of grace—where people are free to tell the truth, learn to trust, and redirect their resources toward real needs.

This is the life that unfolds when we take “radically” the simple, scandalous news of who God is—and the freedom that follows.

If you want to explore that story more deeply, All A Lark is a good place to start. Use the link below to learn more.