This week I found myself deep in conversation with a friend, discussing yet another article he had seen that suggested that decline in the Church of England is somehow God’s way of judging the church… and the age old question (argument) arose of why some churches seem to grow whilst others don’t reared it’s ugly head. I remember some years ago listening to a one local minister explaining why ‘the blessing’ had been removed from a particular church (not theirs of course), and rather like Revelation’s letters to the churches, they went through each church in their local area explaining what was wrong with them; sadly that is all too familiar. So I thought I’d look at Revelation and the letters to the churches and, reflecting on my very rich conversation, perhaps offer something that may encourage us!

The letters to the seven churches in Revelation 2–3 give us a remarkably important lens. Christ is pictured as walking among the lampstands, intimately present with his churches. He knows them, commends them, confronts them and, in the case of Ephesus, warns that their lampstand may be removed if they do not repent. Heady stuff. Some have understood this as a genuine warning that a local congregation can cease to exist as a Christian community through persistent unfaithfulness, and yet the purpose of these warnings is not simply punitive. Revelation repeatedly calls the churches to repentance, endurance and renewed faithfulness. One scholarly reading describes the letters as divine “diagnostics”: Christ exposes the gap between outward appearance and inward reality, between activity and communion with him. 

This is especially significant when we notice that numerical size is not the measure by which Jesus judges the churches. Smyrna and Philadelphia appear weak and materially poor, yet receive profound commendation; Sardis appears alive but is spiritually dead; Laodicea considers itself rich and secure but Christ also sees its poverty. I would argue that Revelation prevents us from reducing the argument to “A growing church is blessed by God; a declining church is judged by God.” That equation simply doesn’t t seem biblical.

But nor should we conclude perhaps that God is indifferent to growth. In Acts, Luke says quite naturally that “the Lord added to their number” (Acts 2:47), while Jesus speaks of the Kingdom growing like seed and yeast. The New Testament therefore holds together two truths: God desires the flourishing and multiplication of his people, but numerical growth is never the ultimate definition of flourishing.

Perhaps we should rather say:

God is not in the business of shrinking his Church, but neither is he in the business of preserving every particular expression of the Church regardless of how they behave.

That distinction is crucial.

God’s mission is always expansive: “I will build my church” (Matthew 16:18); “make disciples of all nations” (Matthew 28:19); the vision of Revelation ultimately is not of a diminished people but of “a great multitude that no one could count” (Revelation 7:9). God is fundamentally a God who calls, gathers, reconciles and sends.

Yet I do believe that a particular congregation can resist that movement of grace. Ephesus can lose its first love, Pergamum can accommodate itself to the surrounding culture, Thyatira can tolerate destructive teaching. Sardis can become preoccupied with reputation while being spiritually dead and Laodicea can become so self-sufficient that it no longer recognises its dependence upon Christ. The astonishing thing is that none of these churches is condemned simply for being too small. They are confronted because something has gone wrong in their relationship with Christ. This offers us insight perhaps into church decline.

Decline can be consequence without being punishment

There is a difference between saying “God is shrinking this church because he is angry with it” and saying “persistent unfaithfulness can cause a church to lose the capacity to bear faithful witness.”

The latter is thoroughly biblical. If a church loses love, people may experience it as coldness, if it loses hospitality people may feel rejected or unwanted. If it becomes obsessed with its own survival, it ceases to be outward-facing and if it becomes frightened or offended by its surrounding culture, it may stop hearing God through the very people that God has called it to serve. If it protects or defends entrenched religious or institutional patterns rather than seeking Christ, those patterns can eventually become a barrier to mission (across all traditions represented in the Church of England).

In that sense, sin can indeed limit a church’s participation in God’s mission.

But I would be careful with the word limit. I do not believe that we can ultimately frustrate God’s purposes. The mystery of Scripture is that God’s sovereignty and human responsibility operate simultaneously. Paul plants, Apollos waters, but God gives the growth (1 Corinthians 3:6). Human beings really can be disobedient, resistant and faithless; yet God remains sovereign and can bring life from places where we see only death. And this is where I think Revelation offers enormous pastoral hope.

Christ does not stand outside the declining church with his arms folded, waiting for it to fail. He walks among the lampstands. He says to Ephesus, in effect: Come back to love He says to Sardis: Wake up. He says to Laodicea: Open the door. And that last image is extraordinary. “Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking” (Revelation 3:20). The very church that thinks it has everything does not realise that Christ is in fact outside, knocking!

So perhaps the deepest question when a church declines is not: “Why aren’t we growing? but: “What is Jesus saying to us in this season?”

Sometimes the answer to that may indeed involve repentance. Sometimes it may reveal that our structures, priorities or habits have become obstacles to mission. Sometimes God may simply be pruning in one area so that something new can grow — an image Jesus himself gives us in John 15. And sometimes decline may simply be part of living faithfully in a particular historical, demographic or cultural moment. A contemporary theological study of declining churches has even argued that decline can become an invitation to attend more carefully to God’s action in the present, rather than simply treating decline as a problem to be solved. 

This means that at all cost we should resist both theological pride and theological despair. It is dangerous to say, “We are declining because God has judged us“; we rarely possess that knowledge. But it is equally dangerous to say, “God wants us to grow, therefore any decline must be our fault.”; that can produce crushing guilt and a frantic obsession with numbers.

Perhaps (humbly offered) a more balanced approach may be;

God desires his Church to bear abundant fruit; he gives the growth. We cannot manufacture it, but our unfaithfulness can make us resistant to the life God is giving, and Christ sometimes calls his Church to repentance before renewal.

And perhaps there is one further lesson from the seven churches that is especially important for the Church of England today: Jesus does not ask the churches to become impressive. He asks them to become faithful. Philadelphia is the great example. It has “little strength”, yet Christ commends it. Its apparent weakness does not mean God has abandoned it. Indeed, Christ places before it “an open door that no one can shut” (Revelation 3:8).

That may be one of the most liberating biblical images for a declining church as the question may not ultimately be, “How do we become bigger?” but

“How do we become so faithful to Jesus, so full of love, prayer, holiness, welcome and courageous witness, that whatever growth God chooses to give us, we are ready to receive it?”

Ultimately, the Church does not belong to us; it belongs to Christ. And the Christ who judges the lampstands is also the Christ who walks among them, speaks to them, calls them back to himself and promises life to those who overcome.