in full, his article entitled: “The United Church Of Christ is Running out of People and Pastors: Why long term decline is creating a clergy and congregational crisis.” In case you’re wondering, he did not bury the lede…though if he’s right, we may soon be burying the church.

It turns out that the UCC has not just been in steady decline for 6 decades, but in free-fall. In 1960, the United Church of Christ had a little over 8000 churches and 2.25 million members.

We are now down to 4,485 churches and 683,000 members. Steven is already doing the math, but even I can tell you that’s not good. The number of churches has declined by 46%. The number of members by 70%.

But don’t worry, it gets worse. “In 1970, the UCC reported its highest ratio of members to churches: 291 members to every 1 church. That doesn’t mean 291 people belonged to each church. You still had big churches and small ones. But spread out over a denomination that was a pretty healthy ratio.

However, we have so few members now that in order to maintain that average in 2026 we would have to close 2000 more churches. That’s almost half of of what we have left!

Nobody likes to do that though, and we don’t have bishops to do it for us. So instead of closing churches and consolidating resources, which would give us a fighting chance at rebirth, the number of UCC churches with fewer than 50 people in attendance has grown to 66% even as the majority of our congregations have continued to age and shrink.

As it stands right now, only 8% of the churches in the UCC look like ours, with over 100 people in attendance. And First Churches, we are, on average, just over 100. Even more alarming, only 3% of our churches have more than 150 in worship.

What that means, in practical terms, is that 66% of our congregations, with fewer than 50 people in worship, have fallen below the brink of viability…a fancy way of saying that they are slowly but surely dying. Most small churches are unable to pay a full time pastor, let alone cover the costs of maintaining their buildings, meaning that their days are numbered.

This may be why the number of retired clergy will soon eclipse the number of active clergy in our denomination and, even worse, why ordinations have also dropped - by 55% - in just the last decade.  As a denomination we only ordained 80 people last year and very few of those folks will be able to go into full time parish ministry because those positions no longer exist.

So let’s just say, it was a sobering read. I read through the article and I confess, my first thought was: “Lord, if you had been here, the church would not have died.”

I suppose when Martha and Mary said those words they may have meant them as nothing more than a compliment to Jesus’ power, but it’s hard not to hear an edge of rebuke in their words and there certainly is one in mine.

Where have you been, Jesus?

I thought you loved us, Jesus.

Why did you wait so long to come?

You could have kept this from happening if you really wanted to.

You could have kept this from happening if you’d cared enough to show up.

“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

But that’s not entirely true, is it? No, it’s not entirely true if you think about it. The truth is that Lazarus would have died eventually whether or not Jesus had come….if not of that illness than eventually of something else. And having been raised from the dead, Lazarus will now have to die all over again before his time on earth is done.

Jesus’ penultimate miracle is quite impressive, but if we’re honest, even Jesus is only prolonging the inevitable. Because that’s how this works. Death comes for us all. I don’t like it any more than you do. In fact, I bet I hate it as much as you do.

And yet, if nothing else, it’s a good reminder that death is not a failure. Death is natural. Death is the way of things. Whether we are talking about people or churches, death comes for us all no matter how good or loved or well maintained we might be.

This is much on my mind right now because Andrew and I visited a church in Maine this past weekend that has everything going for it and still might not make it. It was a classic white clapboard New England church in an iconic coastal town, and I am happy to tell you that the Lord was there.

Just listening to their announcements made it clear to me that those folks are a blessing to their community in myriad ways. They are leveraging their privilege to curb gun violence in their state. They are working and giving generously to protect their immigrant neighbors.

Their historic church was in excellent condition, and I have no doubt that they have been good stewards of a very large endowment. The Lord was present in the preaching and worship we experienced and in the love and welcome of the congregation. I mean, no notes. 5 stars. Would highly recommend.

As far as I can tell, they are doing everything right. Everything. And yet, as I looked around, it was clear to me that in spite of all of their efforts, they are dying. There were maybe 50 people in attendance with only 4 in the choir…2 of whom did not look long for this world.

We sat behind the one couple that was in our age bracket, but beyond that there were no children or young families, no teens or young adults. I would estimate that 3/4 of the people were in their mid to late 80’s and early 90’s.

That church is dying simply because the congregation is aging and dying. They are not dying for lack of faithfulness or vision. They are not dying because the Lord has abandoned them. They are dying naturally…dying because eventually all things do.

I had thought that after my time here at First Churches, I might pastor one more church up in Maine before I retire. Now I’m not so sure there will be a church in Maine for me to pastor.

So between Ryan Burge’s graphs and our visit to that church,  plus the fact that it’s week 5 of lent - anyone else feel like lent is lasting forever this year? Me too - I’m feeling pretty low about the future of the church.

But then I remember, we are still an Easter people. In fact, Easter is only 2 weeks away. We have the hope Martha speaks of, the hope that, come what may, we will all be resurrected on the last day. The hope that nothing is wasted in God’s economy. The hope that somehow, in someway, in the fullness of time, life - not death - will get the last word and God will raise and reconcile all of creation into one glorious whole. Which is good. That’s not for nothing.

And in the meantime, we have signs, signs of the resurrection to come along the way. Signs that God sprinkles like breadcrumbs on our spiritual path to give us hope. I believe the resurrection of Lazarus was one such breadcrumb, a sign of what God can do and a sign of what God will ultimately do for us all.

And friends, if I may be so bold, I believe that just like Lazarus, we are a sign too.

So many of you are new to First Churches that you don’t know how dire things looked here about 14 years ago between the time when Peter and Jenny had retired and Todd was called as pastor. But had you walked in on a Sunday morning, you may well have seen as many people in the choir loft as in the pews.

This church was deep underwater and not for lack of faithfulness or vision. In fact, the faithfulness of those few people is why you and I are here today. (Actually would you please raise your hand if you were part of the church that called Todd and then went out on a limb as far as I’ve ever seen a church go and called me).

These folks held on. They took big risks. They gave it everything they had and then some. They believed - a word Jesus uses many times in this passage and one I should take a quick moment to unpack before we go any further.

Jesus uses the greek word pisteuo here, a form of belief that is more than intellectual agreement. In fact, the sort of belief Jesus is looking for defies the intellect all together. What pisteuo really means is trust, an active, ongoing trust that contrary to all evidence and experience, God has got this and God has got us.

It means trusting, like Julian of Norwich, that come what may, “all shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well.” It means trusting, like the apostle Paul, that nothing, “not even death, can separate us from the love of God,” we see reflected in Christ Jesus.

That belief does not cause a miracle or earn us a little extra resurrection in this life. But it does place us in proximity to the places where miracles can occur even as it opens our eyes to the miracles in our midst, and First Churches, I have to tell you that after reading that article, I think what we have here is a miracle.

Andrew, how many folks do we have here today? Those of you who held out, those of you who believed, those of you who loved this church enough to stay put and trusted that God was here with you, you have been witnesses to something like a resurrection.

Which doesn’t mean we’re saved forever, any more than Lazarus was. But it does mean that we are saved for this moment, saved so that others might believe - not here in the head, but here in their hearts - saved that others might come to trust in the power of God’s love, trust in the power of community, trust in the ultimate power of living with the same grace and peace Jesus embodied in the midst of this death dealing world.

Friends, the Lord is here, still here, and for that I am thankful. The Lord is here and you and I are invited to be part of this miracle that is First Churches. Not to ensure that this place lives forever, because it won’t. None of us will.

But because we are here now and so is this church.

Like Mary and Martha and all the folks who loved Lazarus, we have an incredible, some might say unbelievable, opportunity to respond to what God is doing here in this place, in this moment. The opportunity to witness what God has brought to life in each other and in this congregation and then unbind it, unbind it and let it go for the sake of all.

Thanks be to God. Amen.