The Covid Fatigued Church: Have We Missed the Moment?

It feels like since I have been a child, the world has been headed towards an eventual worldwide catastrophe in one form or the other. Wars and rumours of wars, natural disasters, the rise and fall of political regimes—these have all contributed to an inescapable sense that “something bad is gonna happen.” And then. It happened. For what feels like an eternity, the world has been ravaged by a pandemic. Every human life has in some way been impacted by COVID-19. I remember right at the start of it, sitting in a room filled with friends listening to the announcement from our Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern over the radio. Hearing her well-crafted and reassuring words boom across the speakers I vividly remember the feeling in the room. There was a mixture of shock and bewilderment in each of our faces. The emotion was palpable. We all knew our lives would never be the same. 

Fast-forward more than two years and here we are. I do not wish to write about all the things that have happened since—I wouldn’t want to re-live it if I am honest. Instead, I simply want to pause and ask a question. Specifically, it is a question for the churches of Aotearoa New Zealand. It is a question my own congregation asked early on amidst the many practical questions. It is a theological question. The question is this:

In light of the pandemic, who are we as a church?

And what might God be leading us to change in our being and doing?  

This was a very brave question asked by church leadership, and one that I heard repeated on online discussions and when chatting to other pastors. Unexpectedly, I found hope arising as churches began to talk about this question and to actively seek answers. Sunday services were re-thought through online platforms. Pastoral care was rejigged so that the Body of Christ was looking after each other in ways that creatively addressed social distances rules. Prayer and Scripture were engaged with in exciting new ways that empowered laity. As a result, clergy re-visioned their roles in this new reality.  

My hope grew more and more throughout the pandemic! It seemed to me that the age-old phrase “never waste a good crisis” was being heeded by the Bride of Christ. It seemed to me that the Spirit was breathing anew on the Church as we sought wisdom on how to be disciples participating in the mission of God in a time of crisis. Yet now, we have all generally stopped thinking in terms of “survival mode” and have returned to either the same thing we were doing pre-covid or to a similar thing but this time with a zoom live feed.  

And to be honest, this grieves me deeply. I cannot help but think that we have by and large missed the boat. I would desperately love to be wrong. Maybe we can still salvage from the wreaking heap of the pandemic something of the opportunity it presented to us. To aid in this process, I wish to raise three observations for the Covid-fatigued Church as critique. This is not as an outsider but rather as an insider, someone who loves the Church and desires to see Her flourish in her mission to make God’s Kingdom known here as in heaven. 

1. Our discipleship processes are broken

In our congregation’s journey through the pandemic, we realised this reality very early. We expected people to lean on faith in ways that were rich and fulfilling to themselves while also offering that gift to others in their bubbles. Overall, this did not happen. Despite small pockets of discipleship occurring, the main response was more about survival. As we returned to meeting in-person we noticed no real marked change amongst our congregation in spiritual growth. If anything, people were just happy to see each other again and go back to normal. 

For others, we noticed that the structures we had abided by for years were contributing to this situation. We saw more clearly that our Sunday-centric model of “being” the church together (peppered of course with a small number of home groups, age-specific ministries i.e. youth group, and if we were lucky a church camp), was designed in ways that disempowered people from owning their faith-in-community. For too long people have relied on a spiritual top-up on faith, feeding on an unhealthy diet of a 3-point sermon, sung worship, and a cuppa tea after the service. 

Most churches have gone back to business as usual. Which is a real shame considering that the product we are selling or having sold to us is in many respects contributing to the decreasing sense of discipleship amongst our churches! I think we have missed opportunities to ask deeper questions. What would our gathering look like if we de-centred our Sundays? If we re-centred Monday to Saturday? What could the impact be on our wider communities? Our cities? Our society? Such penetrating questions are needed still. 

2. Our connections as the family of God are not deep enough

The thing we desperately craved whilst in lockdown was deep connection with others. This time showed us how much we valued human relationship. So tell me: Have you experienced deeper relating amongst your church whanau post-pandemic? Is the impetus to “do life” together more “intentionally” a reality?

Our church experimented by way of home church-based groups to mixed results. Personally, it was an enriching time getting to know people in ways that I never would have at church service. Our group was intentionally mixed with different ages and stages. Overwhelmingly, those of us in these mixed groups reported positive and uplifting times together. 

It left me thinking: What if this is how we did church? Why do we meet in such large groups expecting depth like what many of us have only experienced in smaller groups? It made me realise that our large group gatherings leave lots of spaces for people to hide in the crowd. Such hiding does not engender growth but rather encourages anonymity. It breeds shallow relating. And yet Paul’s metaphor of the Body speaks to a living and dynamic state in which diverse people relate to each other in deep ways. Ways that not just inspire but irk each other—ultimately so that we live more like Christ than not. 

3. Our engagement with our communities need focus

Many of us had buildings that normally teemed with life (at least on Sundays). During the pandemic they lay vacant. All of a sudden we realised: do we even need our buildings? Or can we reimagine how we use it to the benefit of our wider community?  

I heard wonderful stories of churches re-purposing their buildings as makeshift food banks and distribution centres. Amazing! I heard of churches—inspired by the excellent example of Curate Church in Tauranga—wonder aloud what it would look like to partner with mana whenua in giving land back (although to be frank I have not heard any in my denomination). 

In our church, a few asked “if we have global missionaries, what then of our need for local missionaries?” What would our finances look like to reflect local people being sent into our communities to be intentional witnesses to the Gospel? Others have heard this and said in response “why not us?” They have started to research and imagine existing models of being the church in intentional community – sharing lives in close proximity with each other and with their neighbours. The impact of such a movement I believe will bear much fruit for years to come. 

These three observations, I believe, show us that God is at work still amongst the world and even with God’s people! Covid-19 was a literal spanner that was thrown in the works of the church and its systems. I think if seen through the right lens, the spanner is more of an opportunity than it is a detriment, an opportunity to think afresh.  I invite you to ask the questions yourself and of your own congregation.

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Caleb Tangaroa Haurua is coordinator of Intermission as Carey Baptist College, a one year formational discipleship experience.