“Quiet Quitting” seems to be the hot phrase of the moment. If you haven’t run into it, it refers to doing the bare minimum for your job– not going above or beyond expectations, setting firm boundaries, protecting your off time. I can see why this is necessary in some jobs, or beneficial if you are in an unhealthy work environment. When I was working with a foster care agency, I loved my job to the point that I never considered anything like “quiet quitting”. I wanted to do as much as I could because I loved the families I was working with. It gave me life and joy. Ideally, I think it’s great when work feels that way. Being in a job where you feel fine doing the bare minimum seems a little sad to me, although I get it.
As I’ve read about this phenomenon, it doesn’t resonate with me when it comes to work. But it definitely did when it came to church involvement.
I think Covid really messed with church programing. Things shut down. Entirely and understandably. As things were beginning to restart, this new version of church was different than what we were used to. In our situation, my husband and I ended up looking at each other one day and realizing for the first time in our entire lives, we were Sunday Morning Only attenders at church. Church had become that thing you do on Sunday and then check it off the list. In essence, we had become Quiet Quitters. This was a far cry from what most of our lives had been like.
We did the math, and in a given month we used to have: small group Bible studies, weekly Women’s Bible study, small group leaders meeting, worship team meetings, congregational meal, children’s committee meeting, nursery worker meetings, women’s committee, etc. Our family live revolved around church involvement. And we weren’t upset about that. It was how we demonstrated that our faith is actually important to us, not just something we say is important to us. It’s also the way we both grew up– in church whenever the doors were open with parents, extended family members and a church community who encouraged and valued that involvement.
I’m sure it’s easy to look at that list and think that’s a ridiculous amount of meetings. I know there are people who hate meetings, but in this context, those meetings were excuses to talk to people we loved, grow connections, get on the same page, have voice, hear about the vision of the church, and use our gifts. When those opportunities went away, we were down to two hours on Sundays that were mostly about sitting and listening, not using gifts or sharing life.
If you think the reason people will come to your church is because the sermons are really great, I’d like to remind you that I can listen to the best preachers in the world while wearing my pajamas and folding laundry. It’s amazing. I can also listen to phenomenal music that is specifically tailored to whatever worship mood I’m in from monastic chants to hymns to worship choruses. Again, I can do that in my pajamas, which is always preferred. I’m not going to church on Sundays where I think I will always get the best Sunday morning experience of teaching and worship (and I say this as someone who has been involved in leading worship for the last 20 years).
Church has to be about more than Sunday morning. It has to be about the connections we make, the needs we fill for each other, the ways we do what we were created to do. Few of those things can happen while passively listening to sermons or singing along in worship. Solid teaching and meaningful worship are incredibly important, but they shouldn’t be the whole story.
I remember exactly where I was standing as my husband took a deep breath and said to me, “Either all of it matters or none of it does.” I knew what he meant. Either our faith is important enough to us that our time, lives, emotional energy get invested into it, or why are we doing this? Sunday Morning Only is not an option. If this is only about what we do for two hours on Sunday, then forget it. We’d like our Sunday mornings back. But if this is the most meaningful thing we do, then our lives should reflect that.
We doubled down. We had awkward conversations. We were patient. And eventually we left. We didn’t leave because our church wasn’t important to us. We left because The Church is too important to be confined to Sunday mornings. We needed to be engaged in a place where we could use our gifts and be connected.
I don’t think the specifics of our situation are ultimately what matter here and the reality is that we loved (still love) our community there and wish the solution could have involved us continuing to worship there. We recognize our situation is not even everyone’s experience of that specific community. But I think it is a good example of how easy it is to Quiet Quit the church. Sometimes the church makes it easy.
The extras of church take work. If they’re going to function well, there needs to be delegation to people who love those activities. There needs to be coordination, an assessment of gifts, recruiting and vetting of volunteers, visionary leaders, open/regular/effective communication, passionate staff, resources, and yes. . . there should be meetings. Church staff can’t accomplish these things on their own and congregants can’t make them happen without the blessing and support of church staff. These things do not happen “organically” as much as that’s a nice idea. If there’s a breakdown in either of those areas (staff who don’t create the structure or congregants who don’t want to be involved), you are going to get people who are frustrated. Those people are likely to Quiet Quit.
Quiet quitting is an easier way to go than what we did. We could have kept going on Sunday mornings forever. We could have occasionally dipped our toes back into ministries as they existed. We could have kept contributing in ways that didn’t take too much from us. But that didn’t work for us.
Either all of it matters, or none of it does.
Quiet quitting means you stop asking anything of your church. You find your community in other places. You keep coming, but you do the bare minimum. The church still looks functional on a Sunday, but onramps for other involvement are minimal or unused. People have boundaries when it comes to church. They don’t want their world to revolve around their church involvement or their faith, but they still want some of the benefits of going to a church on Sundays (or just on Easter and Christmas). I get how they could end up in that place, but it makes me sad. And I feel sadder still when I think that some churches may be happy with that outcome. It may be easier to lead a church of people who are happy being Sunday Morning Only attenders than having to manage people who are hungry for more.
In that same conversation my husband and I asked ourselves why our kids would keep doing this whole church thing after they leave our home. Does it seem like something truly important? Is it just something we do that they have to tolerate? This isn’t about looking for something that’s child-focused or all about programing, but do our kids feel that they matter? Do they feel connected, or are we the only ones? Are they learning and growing or is church for grown-ups and they are expected to observe?
Ultimately, we want our kids to see how important church is to us. It takes sacrifice. It means there are times we can’t participate in other activities because we are prioritizing our church involvement. We need to invest in our community and care for others, even when it’s a struggle. We need our kids to see us as actively needed and engaged. If we’re not there for a Sunday, someone is checking on us. We talk as a family about who needs us to check on them.
If you realize you have been Quiet Quitting your church community, I’d encourage you to reassess your situation. Either all of this matters, or none of it does. Can you find ways to reengage with your church community? Do you need to be somewhere you have the right opportunities for connection or to use your gifts? Are your kids connected and valued or are they only there because they have to be?
Quiet Quitting isn’t the answer. Some of us may be called to Loud Leaving. Others may need to dig deeper and work for Silent Solutions as they use influence and diplomacy to push for more involvement behind the scenes. Our faith is too important to try and fit it in a box. My faith asks me to go above and beyond. And I’m okay with that.