While exploring some church ruins outside Antigua, Guatemala, I found myself thinking about the state of the Church today. So, I wrote a blog.

Church leaders need to wrestle with an uncomfortable question: Are we striving to make disciples or are we managing decline?

Too often, the Church has become more concerned with preserving an institution than creating a disciple-making movement.

We preserve systems. We preserve preferences. We preserve traditions. We preserve comfort.

In doing so, we often lose sight of the mission. Jesus did not say, “Go and maintain what exists.”He said, “Go and make disciples.” (Matthew 28:19). That distinction changes everything.

The mission of the Church has never been institutional preservation. It has always been transformational multiplication.

Movements push forward. Institutions often resist.

One of the clearest places this tension shows up today is in our relationship with technology. Too many church leaders still treat technology like an optional accessory rather than an essential missional tool.

Whether it’s websites, email, social media, livestreams, digital giving, online discipleship, and now AI…these are not distractions from ministry. They are part of ministry now.

If we expect to reach new people, especially younger generations, while resisting the very communication systems and engagement tools they use every day, we are not being faithful stewards of the mission. We are choosing irrelevance.

While that’s difficult to hear, it’s true.

Jason Moore, in his work on AI and the Church, makes an important distinction: technology is not the mission, but it can amplify the mission. It can remove barriers, increase accessibility, improve communication, and create more space for human-centered ministry.

That’s the point. Technology should not replace discipleship. It should accelerate it.

Barna research continues to show that digital engagement matters. Churches that invest intentionally in technology see greater connection, wider reach, and stronger pathways into community and spiritual formation.

Leadership must understand this…communication has changed. Culture has changed. Access has changed. Expectations have changed. Pretending otherwise doesn’t make it untrue.

Yet many churches continue operating as though we are still in 1995. We hear things like: “I don’t do email. I’m not on social media. I don’t use online forms.”

For some reason, church leaders feel obligated to build ministry systems around technological resistance.

Let’s be honest…that is an unsustainable practice.

No school district does this. Most schools now use centralized communication platforms. Parents adapt because the system is clear. The schools have said, “This is how we communicate.”

They don’t create twelve parallel systems to accommodate every preference. But churches often do.

Bulletins, phone trees, digital and printed newsletters, mass texts, emails, Facebook posts, website updates, verbal announcements, courier pigeons…and then leaders wonder why staff and volunteers are exhausted.

This is not about excluding people. It is about stewarding energy for mission.

Every hour spent maintaining outdated communication habits is an hour not spent making disciples. Every ounce of energy spent preserving institutional expectations is energy not spent building Kingdom momentum.

This issue extends far beyond communication. It impacts worship. It impacts discipleship. It impacts leadership development. It impacts evangelism. It impacts how we form community.

Church leaders must ask if our methods are serving the mission or suffocating it?

If younger generations learn through digital content, why are we insisting all discipleship happen in a room at 9am Sunday or 6pm Wednesday? If people discover community online first, why are we acting like digital presence is secondary? If worship styles shift culturally, why are we pretending contextualization is compromise?

While the gospel is timeless, methods are not. That’s not heresy. That’s history.

The early Church adapted. The Reformers adapted. Revivalists adapted. Every major movement of God has leveraged the tools of its time. Roman roads. Printing presses. Camp meetings. Radio. Television. The internet.

The question is not whether these tools should be used. The question is whether church leaders have the courage to use them.

Do we have the courage to stop organizing ministry around the preferences of the “frozen chosen”? Because preserving comfort is not discipleship. Protecting familiarity is not mission. Maintaining an institution is not the Great Commission.

The Church does not need better preservation strategies. The Church needs movement builders. Leaders who think like missionaries. Leaders who embrace innovation. Leaders who adopt early instead of responding late. Leaders who understand that effectiveness matters. Leaders who care more about reaching the next generation than appeasing the last one.

This is not about abandoning tradition. It is about refusing to idolize it.

Some traditions carry the faith. Others simply carry our nostalgia. Church leaders must know the difference.

The future of the Church will not be built by those clinging hardest to what was. It will be built by those most willing to leverage what is for the sake of what could be.

The Church was never meant to be a museum. It was always meant to be a movement.

Walk past almost any church, browse the website or bulletin, and you’ll likely find some version of the same phrase: “All are welcome.”

It’s become one of the most common slogans in modern Christianity. And yet, if we’re honest, many people hear those words and quietly think: “Really?”

Because too often, what churches actually mean is: “You are welcome, as long as you become like us.”

You are welcome, but only if you dress like us.

You are welcome, but only if you talk like us.

You are welcome, but only if you behave like us.

You are welcome, but only if you vote like us.

You are welcome, but only if you love like us.

You are welcome, but only if you believe like us.

The invitation is extended, but belonging remains conditional. The message becomes clear…you can come through the doors, but you won’t truly be wanted until you conform.

I wonder if that’s one reason so many people have walked away from institutional Christianity.

Over the years, I’ve had countless conversations with people who no longer attend church. What’s striking is that many of them haven’t abandoned Jesus. In fact, many still strive to follow him faithfully. What they’ve left behind is an environment where they felt there wasn’t room for them.

I’ve heard people say: “There wasn’t room for my questions.”

“My LGBTQIA+ friends weren’t actually safe there.”

“My political views caused people to question my faith.”

“Tradition became more important than the movement of the Spirit.”

“I felt like I had to pretend to be someone I wasn’t.”

These stories should break our hearts. Because when we look at Jesus, we see someone who consistently created belonging before transformation.

The tax collectors belonged before they changed. The fishermen belonged before they understood. The doubters belonged before they believed. The sinners belonged before they repented. The disciples themselves belonged long before they fully understood who Jesus was.

Jesus rarely demanded that people get everything right before entering relationship with him. Instead, relationship became the context through which transformation happened.

Yet the Church often reverses the order. We ask people to believe before they belong. Behave before they belong. Conform before they belong. Agree before they belong.

But what if belonging comes first? What if people don’t need to earn a seat at the table? What if being welcomed isn’t the goal at all? What if being wanted is?

There’s a significant difference.

Many churches are willing to welcome people. Far fewer are willing to genuinely want people exactly as they are. To want them before they change. To want them before they agree. To want them before they understand. To want them before they fit neatly into our expectations.

What if our churches became communities where people could bring their whole selves…their doubts, questions, fears, wounds, identities, convictions, struggles, and hopes, and know they would still be loved?

Not tolerated. Not managed. Not treated as projects. Loved.

At First Wayne Street, I’ve often said that I want us to become known as the most loving place in Fort Wayne. Not the largest church. Not the most influential church. Not the church with the best programs. The most loving church.

Imagine if the criticism people had of us was, “Those people are just too loving.”

I could live with that.

Of course, genuine inclusion isn’t easy. In fact, inclusion is often misunderstood.

Many people support inclusion until they encounter someone they disagree with. But true inclusion means making space for people whose views, experiences, backgrounds, and convictions may differ from our own.

If we’re only willing to include people who already agree with us, that’s not inclusion at all. That’s uniformity.

Real community requires something deeper. It requires humility. It requires curiosity. It requires listening. It requires the willingness to sit at tables with people who see the world differently than we do. Most importantly, it requires love.

The kind of love Jesus demonstrated over and over again. A love that didn’t begin with agreement. A love that wasn’t conditional. A love that crossed boundaries. A love that made room. A love that transformed people not through coercion, but through relationship.

Perhaps it’s time for churches to move beyond saying “all are welcome.” Perhaps the better message is: You are wanted. Not because you’ve figured everything out. Not because you believe all the right things. Not because you vote the right way. Not because you fit our expectations. But because you are a beloved child of God. Because hospitality is not inviting people into our comfort; it’s making room for people in God’s family.

Making room often requires us to surrender our comfort. It asks us to loosen our grip on assumptions, preferences, traditions, and expectations that may unintentionally communicate who belongs and who does not. Genuine hospitality isn’t about protecting our way of doing things while allowing others to observe from the edges. It’s about expanding the table so that more people can find a place at it. And if we truly believe that, then our churches should be places where people experience belonging before they ever experience agreement.

To aske it again…what if our churches became communities where people could bring their whole selves, their doubts, questions, fears, wounds, identities, convictions, struggles, and hopes, and know they would still be loved?

After all, that’s what Jesus did.

And maybe that’s what the Church was always meant to do.

The ongoing conversation surrounding the proposed Anchor Resource Center at 333 E. Washington in Fort Wayne has revealed something important about our community. People care deeply about Fort Wayne.

Many of those raising concerns about the project are doing so because they genuinely care about safety, quality of life, local businesses, schools, churches, and neighborhoods. Those concerns should not be dismissed. Questions about implementation, security, staffing, transportation, and community impact are legitimate questions. Any project of this scale deserves careful scrutiny.

But legitimate concerns should not become an automatic barrier to action. At some point, every community must decide whether difficult realities will be addressed or simply discussed.

One of the recurring arguments against the proposed center is that it will bring homelessness and related challenges into the area surrounding Barr Street and downtown.

Yet that claim overlooks a simple reality: The area is already home to some of Fort Wayne’s most significant services for vulnerable populations.

The Rescue Mission has been located nearby for several years. St. Mary’s Soup Kitchen serves individuals experiencing food insecurity and homelessness in this area. Matthew 25 provides healthcare and support services to many who are struggling. Numerous churches, ministries, and service organizations already engage with vulnerable populations throughout downtown.

In other words, the need is already here. The people are already here. The services are already here.

The proposed resource center is not introducing homelessness into downtown Fort Wayne. It is an attempt to better coordinate responses to a reality that already exists.

That distinction matters.

Some opponents have expressed concerns that the center will negatively impact the Barr Street Farmers Market or other downtown destinations. Those concerns may feel understandable, but they remain speculative.

If the mere presence of people experiencing homelessness inevitably destroys public spaces, one might reasonably ask why that has not already happened.

The organizations serving vulnerable populations have existed in this area for years. The people they serve have been present in this neighborhood for years. Yet the Farmers Market continues to thrive and expand. Downtown continues to attract residents, visitors, businesses, and events.

Predictions about what might happen should be weighed against evidence of what is actually happening.

Another common suggestion has been that the resource center should simply be moved elsewhere. The challenge, however, is that “somewhere else” is rarely defined.

As city leaders have repeatedly acknowledged, there is no perfect location. Every potential site will have neighbors. Every potential site will have stakeholders. Every potential site will generate concerns.

To date, many who oppose the current location have called for an alternative site without identifying one.

That raises an important question: If every location is unacceptable, what solution is actually being proposed?

Sometimes communities unintentionally communicate that they support helping vulnerable people, as long as the help happens somewhere they do not have to see it.

Effective services cannot be hidden away from transportation routes, healthcare providers, social services, and the very resources people need to access. Relocating services farther away from existing support systems may make some people more comfortable, but it often makes it harder for vulnerable people to receive the help they need.

Perhaps we should ask different questions. Why is it assumed that people experiencing homelessness should always be the ones expected to move Why should those with the fewest resources bear the greatest burden of inconvenience?

If relocation is the preferred solution, perhaps the burden should not automatically fall on the “have nots.” Perhaps those of us with homes, businesses, churches, schools, vehicles, and resources should reflect on what sacrifices we are willing to make for the good of our community.

That may be an uncomfortable question. Yet communities are often defined by whose comfort they prioritize.

For people of faith, this conversation carries an additional layer of responsibility. Fort Wayne proudly refers to itself as “The City of Churches.” It is a beautiful nickname. But it becomes meaningful only when it shapes our actions.

The measure of a community is not how it treats the powerful, the connected, or the prosperous. The measure of a community is how it treats those who are struggling.

The proposed resource center will not solve homelessness. It will not solve addiction. It will not solve mental illness. No one is claiming that it will. But it represents an effort to respond to real needs with greater coordination, dignity, and compassion.

Reasonable people can debate the details. And, they should.

But we should be careful not to mistake discomfort for danger, speculation for evidence, or caution for compassion.

The question before Fort Wayne is not whether homelessness exists here. It does.

The question is whether we are willing to respond to that reality with courage, responsibility, and a commitment to care for our neighbors.

That is a conversation worth having.