As someone who has been spiritually engaged since childhood, I have paid attention over the years to how religion has been lived in America. Like you, I have watched the steady reporting of declining church attendance and the growing number of people who describe themselves as having no formal religious affiliation. In my own faith tradition, I have seen congregations struggle to sustain long-standing facilities, even to the point that organizations have emerged to purchase and repurpose church buildings no longer supported by their members. Both church literature and the broader media have documented the rise of the “nones”—those who identify with no particular faith community.

Yet at the same time, something else seems to be stirring beneath the surface. Alongside reports of decline, there are quieter signs of renewed spiritual questioning. My grown children, who are Christians, have noticed an increase in Christian-themed music appearing on stations that once avoided such content altogether. The media has also noted a recent rise in Bible sales. In my own experience, I have seen more conversations on social platforms turn toward spiritual themes rather than remaining focused solely on family updates or daily activities. Church attendance has not been climbing. If there is a spiritual awakening underway, it is not showing itself in conventional places.

In my own lifetime—from the 1940s through the 1970s—spiritual conversations were often framed around doctrinal questions, largely because a broadly shared Christian worldview was still assumed. Even then, that framework was beginning to shift. Authority of many kinds was increasingly questioned, and confidence in institutions slowly eroded. Today, the spiritual quest rarely turns first to traditional venues. As you and I have experienced, many people—including church members—are cautious about institutional claims, especially in light of recent social, cultural, and religious disappointments.

Our shared experience during the COVID pandemic intensified two long-standing longings: a desire for genuine community and a desire for relationships that can be trusted. Though it may not seem so at first, the question of whom—or what—we can trust is deeply spiritual. When trust erodes, people begin asking where it is safe to explore meaning and whether what is offered is credible. That kind of hunger is easily misdirected, as we see some turning toward astrology, tarot cards, or horoscopes in search of clarity or reassurance.

In moments like these, when familiar structures no longer feel secure, people often look for settings where questions can be raised without fear. Consider how rarely individuals speak openly in large group settings, whether religious or secular. Only a few voices usually emerge. Yet place those same individuals in a small group—perhaps three to twelve people—and far more are willing to share. Even then, such groups only work when they are marked by trust and when searching questions can be raised without pressure or pretense.

When we begin to feel like fish out of water—disoriented by change and unsure of where we belong—questions of meaning naturally surface. Who am I? What gives life coherence? Where can I go for truth that holds? Where can I belong and feel safe? If this quiet return of spiritual hunger is real—and the signs suggest that it is—then it raises a question that cannot be ignored. Hunger, by itself, does not determine what will satisfy it. It only reveals need. How that need is met depends not just on the seeker, but also on those who respond.

For Christians, this moment carries both opportunity and risk. The desire to help, to explain, or to persuade can easily outpace wisdom, patience, and humility. Before asking what people should believe, we must consider how we meet them while they are searching. The Commentary that follows turns to that question.