There is a decline in spending from a peak in late 2003 to less construction from roughly mid-2010 to late 2023.
Spending is back up since 2022.
I can guess at a big reason for the decline in construction. Real estate crisis. Uncertainty. Not the time to start large building projects, especially if funded by congregations.
The uptick in construction is more interesting. Coming out of the COVID-19 pandemic, what is driving more religious construction spending? New congregations? Growing religious traditions? A lot of repairs to religious buildings that had been put off since the late 2000s?
Part of the reason I ask is I have seen construction spending figures cited to help show the growth of religious activity in the United States after World War Two. After the war ended and the population started growing amid prosperity, religious construction spending went up. Numerous religious buildings were constructed as religious activity increased.
What story will be told in a decade or two about the spending graph above? What data will it be put alongside to describe and explain religious activity in the United States?
What Wagner experienced with her shrinking congregation is arguably the most urgent challenge facing churches across America. Experts project an estimated 100,000 churches in the US will close or be repurposed over the next decade. Many churches will be unable to escape this “tsunami” of closings — a grim trajectory one pastor described as, “Every year the pews are getting emptier and the collection plates getting lighter.”
This is the challenge that “Christianity at a Crossroads,” a new TV documentary series, examines. The comprehensive four-part series, which premieres Thursday on PBS stations, features heart-wrenching scenes like the last days of Belding United Methodist Church. It also shows how mass church closures will hurt communities across America — including people who don’t attend church or care nothing for organized religion…
The shadow that hangs over the entire series, though, is the perilous future of the church. Christian leaders have been warning about the decline of American churches for decades. What’s new about the PBS series is that it presents portraits of the people and congregations behind this decline, along with specific numbers and a timeframe for the expected church closings.
As the documentary series shows some shared traits — accessible parking, lively music, powerful preaching and efforts to shower visitors with hospitality — seem mundane. But they are non-negotiable elements for growth. The film also spotlights the Church of the Nativity in suburban Baltimore, Maryland, which has learned another key to expansion: make church fun for young people. It draws about 800 kids and youths for its Sunday services.
A number of people have made such predictions in the last decade or two. The typical American church is small with roughly half having fewer than 70 or so people. Some church buildings are old and are expensive to maintain. An increasing number of Americans claim no religious affiliation. The decline of numerous denominations.
What would be interesting to see in the series (episode 1 is on Youtube) is the discussion of the impacts of closures. What happens to religious communities, both as collectives and the individuals within them? What happens to neighborhoods and communities when churches are no longer using those buildings or providing services? What might the American landscape look like with fewer religious congregations overall and perhaps fewer occupying prominent locations and buildings?
Robert Brenneman and I found in Building Faith: A Sociology of Religious Structures that some closed religious buildings were used by other religious groups. Newer congregations who did not have many resources could find older religious buildings that an older congregation needed to sell. The younger congregation might adapt that older structure to their own needs. My guess is that this will continue to happen, particularly in parts of the United States where populations are growing.
But if a tsunami of church closures comes and the rates of closures significantly increases, this could have cascading effects. Instead of a church or two disappearing, it could be 5 or 10 in a neighborhood or community. Are there enough ways that such buildings or properties could still benefit the community?
Sociologist Katie Gaddini argues in Esther’s Army: The Christian Women Who Power the American Rightthat conservative women in the suburbs helped Donald Trump become president twice. Here is how she describes “the white suburbanites” (the title for Chapter 6 in the book):
The debate Rebekah had with her Bible study group exemplifies how American suburbia has emerged as a political battleground for the Left and Right. Poised between the Republican-dominated rural areas and the Democratic stronghold of many American cities, the suburbs have been up for grabs since the Republicans lost their dominance there in the 1990s. The partisan nature of suburbia means that when political polarization ripples across the nation, it often feels acute there. This heightened sense of division was especially pronounced during the peak of the pandemic. (136)
But that’s where the commonality between my story and that of the women I researched ends. I moved to Boston in 2008 and continued to hop from one city to another over the next fifteen years: from Boston to Johannesburg to San Francisco, Madrid, London, and then, finally, returning to the American suburban sprawl of my childhood. Along the way, I left evangelicalism, and the Republican party. Meeting women like Rebekah, around my age, who shared a similar background, help up a mirror of what my life might have looked like if i had never left. Maybe I, too, would have taken up the mantle alongside other White middle-class Christian women to defend the suburbs from outsiders. (139)
“I wept when I heard him say that he would protect us,” a wealthy Christian suburban woman told me after hearing Trump at a rally in Coachella, a city in California. Among the diverse groups of people who brought Trump back to the White House in 2024, White Christian suburban women were some of his most enthusiastic supporters. His message of preserving the version of suburbia they knew and loved resonated with them. A solid 60 percent voted for him, Rebekah and Aimee included. (150)
In this sense, Trump endorses suburban women’s role. When he vows to protect the suburbs through strict immigration and housing policies, he is promising to maintain the racial and class homogeneity that has long defined American suburbia. His message validates White Christian women’s decision to live there, framing it as a moral reward. (154)
When Americans started moving to the suburbs in large numbers, first at the end of the 1800s and early 1900s and then more so in the postwar era, commentators expected the suburbs to be conservative. These were suburban residents with means, homeowners, people who emphasized family life away from the big city. (This addressed broader patterns but did not consider the broad range of people and communities across suburbia).
As Gaddini notes, the suburbs have changed as they are more diverse now in terms of race and ethnicity, social class, and religion. This has intersected with politics as plenty of suburbanites vote for Democrats and some suburban communities pursue what might be perceived as more liberal policies.
By considering gender among conservative voters, this book contributes to understanding the American suburbs. Gaddini argues conservative suburban women saw their suburban life and communities as under threat, whether from political liberals and their policies or responses to the pandemic or discussions and actions related to race. The suburban communities to which they had moved – and they would often see as having done so by their own efforts – could decline and they did not want to see this happen. They wanted to hear a national leader push back and say that the idealized suburban life would be defended.
What happens to these more conservative suburban pockets and communities will be interesting to see in coming years. Part of the history of the American suburbs includes exclusion and this will likely continue by a variety of means, including by politics and religion.
Some suburban street names are more unusual than others. I recently noted a neighborhood I occasionally drive past has religious street names. Here are several of them:
When many suburban subdivisions have bland names that invoke landscapes or desirable historical connections, why would this neighborhood invoke religious ideas?
I wonder how many suburban subdivisions have clearly religious street names. Given the number of religious congregations and groups in the United States, this might not be unexpected. However, I suspect this is quite unusual as developers want to appeal to a broad audience of possible homeowners and they want to connect certain ideas with the housing units.
(This would not often be a street name in newer subdivisions but would Church St/Ave/Rd/Ln be the most common “religious” street name in American suburbs?)
Elevation Church announced that the new institution would offer two associate and eight bachelor’s programs, including ministerial leadership, biblical studies and digital media and design. Classes, a combination of regular SEU courses and those exclusive to Elevation students, will be delivered in online and hybrid formats.
However, students will be required to live in Charlotte, N.C., to participate in the programs and to complete “practicum experiences” at the megachurch…
Historically, a huge number of U.S. colleges and universities were founded in partnership with churches or began as seminaries. In recent years, a handful of megachurches—a relatively modern term referring to churches with particularly large buildings and weekly attendance of 2,000 people or more—have dipped their toes into education. For example, Highlands College, which was created by the Church of the Highlands, the largest church in Alabama, opened its doors in fall 2023. While the college was originally founded to train ministers for the Church of the Highlands, the institution has since branched out, announcing this year that it would launch a business school.
Celebration Church, a megachurch in Texas, launched a small institution called Austin Christian University in 2023 with just two dozen students. But the university, which is focused on Christian business education, has grown to enroll 63 students this past spring. Megachurches are also opening K–12 schools, such as Dream City Christian Academy, a school with nearly 800 students operated by Dream City Church in Phoenix.
The article mentions three megachurches that have opened colleges in recent years. Does this make a pattern or trend? Consider:
There are lots of megachurches in the United States. See a list here.
This is not exactly a boom time for colleges in the United States. These difficulties include a decrease in potential students in the coming years and lower public sentiment about a college education.
It takes time to set up a college, attract students, run successful programs, and build a name.
The main advantage a megachurch might have is a built in audience and brand. If it already has thousands of attendees plus those people (and others) trust the name, this could provide a certain number of interested students.
If this is a growing trend, it is a small one (if there are indeed 3 new colleges).
Another interesting matter from the article above: what curriculum would such a college offer? The theology and ministry degrees make sense given the church connections. And then add on digital media and design? A business school? As they look to establish themselves, they probably have some sense of what programs could serve the church as well as attract students. And these degrees would be marketed as alternatives to what typical colleges and universities offer.
I recently drove down a local road and saw signs on a traffic light pole pointing different directions to nearby religious congregations. Several of the congregations are active but one has been closed for a while now. If a driver were to follow these signs, they would find the building put to another use after it was purchased by a local governmental body.
This closed congregation is not alone: even as churches and congregations close, they can be found in numerous local and online spots. Here are a few other regular places to find or hear about closed congregations.
Buildings present that may now be used by another religious congregation or are put to other uses. Some are demolished but many are transformed and some observation and research can find the previous congregation(s) that occupied that building.
Online listings. There are numerous websites that continue to list congregations that closed years before. Some of them will tell you that they are closed, others will not.
Obituaries. They can mention congregations people were connected to. Harder to find local print options for reading these; they can now be found online.
Local history accounts. This might be particularly true for older congregations that date back the early days of a community. My experience is that congregations founded later are mentioned less in these accounts.
Newspaper databases. Go back some decades and newspapers regularly ran lists of congregational services and activity and/or stories about existing congregations. Fewer local newspapers means less coverage of more recent years.
Conversations with residents who have local experiences and memories.
While these are possible sources, it can be hard to look at a landscape and see what past churches and congregations might have been there. There may be some hints but there is also work to do to look further than the current built environment.
I recently was in the suburbs of a major city on a Sunday morning and looking for somewhere to go to church. I used this megachurch database, searched a few congregational websites, and ended up in a satellite congregation. It was a newer building amid newer subdivisions and green spaces. The local pastor and band led worship: there were lights, fog, and people moving to the worship music. The sermon came from the home church with a charismatic pastor who shared from personal experience and a number of Bible passages on how to counter social and cultural pressures and instead follow God. People were friendly. I could text to give or to ask for more information.
Even as the median congregation size in the United States is around 70, there are many satellite church locations in the United States. Researcher Warren Bird recently shared this:
The congregation I went to was part of the 416 mentioned above: numerous campuses scattered throughout a portion of a metropolitan region. In the service, they shared Easter Sunday figures across their locations. They had big crowds – possibly several multiples of normal Sunday attendance – and a number of baptisms. They want to reach their communities for Jesus. There are regular connections to a main campus but also a good amount going on at each satellite.
It is helpful to keep this in mind when considering the large number of evangelicals or conservative Protestants in the United States. Some of those folks go to small congregations. Others go to big churches or to satellites of those big churches who have lots of attendees, lots of programs, and numerous locations throughout regions. The big church with satellites is not the only model of congregational life but it is a popular and visible one.
Dayspring’s journey is a tale of three homes, a decades-old contact and a generous gift. And it’s led them to the long-abandoned CF Industries corporate headquarters adjacent to the Heron Creek Forest Preserve near Route 22 and Old McHenry Road.
Empty and vandalized over 18 years, the 120,000-square-foot, brick-faced concrete and steel “miracle” building will be revived, revamped and modernized with an expected move in fall 2027…
That will allow the college of about 80 students to accommodate twice as many, double the current square footage and be closer to the Quentin Road Baptist Church in Lake Zurich, where the college found a home in its early years…
Church leaders met with residents in neighboring subdivisions to discuss the vision and hosted an open house and barbecue before making the case to the village’s advisory plan commission and zoning board of appeals. Approval was unanimous and the village board followed suit…
Long Grove also is benefiting from the move. For the college’s soon-to-be neighbors, having an academic institution with a 24/7 presence will eliminate trespassing and vandalism concerns and greatly reduce calls for service to the Lake County sheriff’s office, said Long Grove Village Manager Chris Sparkman.
Having studied religious buildings, I find this story interesting on multiple levels.
First, suburban communities tend not to want to have vacant buildings. Structures should be productive, preferably producing tax revenue and/or contributing to day to day life in the community. A former headquarters building is an opportunity for another business to make it their own.
Second, having a vacant suburban building for 18 years in a wealthier suburb is a long time of vacancy. Even if a suburb might have wanted a corporate taker for this building, they might be happier after 18 years to have any productive use. As the story suggests, the community is glad someone will be taking care of the property and the approvals process went smoothly.
Third, religious groups are often willing to use all sorts of buildings and properties if they can adapt it. This is not a religious congregation – though it is a school connected to a particular congregation – but they are taking a corporate headquarters, cleaning it up, and plan to make it a religious school. Also noted in the story: acquiring the corporate headquarters required Hobby Lobby purchasing it and giving it to the congregation/school.
In the end, the suburb has a tenant for a long empty building, the former property owner was able to sell the property that sat for a long time, and a religious congregation/school has a new suburban home.
Expressed as a ratio, these figures mean that there are six former Christians for every convert to Christianity in the United States. The balance is especially lopsided for Catholicism (which loses 8.4 people through religious switching for every convert to the religion). But Protestants also lose more people than they gain through switching, by a ratio of 1.8 to one.
In stark contrast, the religiously unaffiliated gain nearly six people for every person they lose through religious switching. That is, there are about six times as many Americans who say they were raised in a religion and no longer identify with a religion than there are who say they were raised in no religion but now identify with one.
This is an interesting way to consider the data. Rather than focus on absolute numbers or percentages, the ratios compare those who join a religious tradition versus those who leave. Additionally, because some American religious groups see evangelism and/or conversions as part an important part of their mission, this helps highlight whether more people are coming to the Christian faith or not. (Keep in mind that this applies to the 35% of American adults who have switched religion between
The ratios suggest this is a one-sided affair. Of those who switch, more leave Christianity compared to those who join. And more switchers are becoming religiously unaffiliated compared to the religious unaffiliated joining a religious tradition.
What does this mean for the efforts of religious groups? Is this more about a powerful pattern of more people becoming religiously unaffiliated or the limited effectiveness of religious groups to gain converts?
In 2008, Loma Linda rocketed to the national stage when it was dubbed a “Blue Zone,” the term coined by author Dan Buettner to describe a place where people not only live longer but also live healthier lives. Nearly 20 years later, the California town of around 25,000 people still stands out rather oddly in its peer group, which includes beautiful international destinations like Okinawa, Japan; Sardinia, Italy; Nicoya Peninsula, Costa Rica; and Ikaria, Greece. All of them are set against mountains or sea, with residents who live a more traditional lifestyle…
The Blue Zone designation actually makes him a bit nervous, he said, and he doesn’t tout it often, since the data that the designation was based on is now rather old and was based solely on the Seventh-day Adventist part of the community. He said it’s been brought up among city officials as a way to promote the city, but members are often divided.
Even Dr. Gary Fraser, whose research was the base for much of the Blue Zone status designation, told SFGATE that “the Loma Linda experience is totally irrelevant.” The research done was important, and the designation is significant, he said, but the overall study of longer living is more complicated and technical than it’s often presented, and it has more to do with Adventists than Loma Linda.
He said that when he began his research more than 40 years ago, it was helpful to be able to study Adventists because it helped level the playing field. Since most don’t smoke or drink and participate in similar, healthier lifestyle activities, researchers could analyze their diets more effectively and understand how that affected longevity. Fraser said, if anything, it points to the importance of studying how people eat, something he’s continuing to do today.
Another possible way to frame this story: American suburbs are often assumed to be similar. They are based around single-family homes, driving, and a particular lifestyle.
But leaders and residents within a community can often describe what makes their suburb different from other suburbs. We have this particular trait. There is this historical event that shapes who we are today. We are different from neighboring suburbs because of this.
So what helps distinguish Loma Linda from other suburbs near Riverside and Los Angeles? A concentration of particular Christians that is linked to longer life expectancy.
