When the Church Left the Building during Covid: What If That Was the Point?

Gary L Ellis
May 31
4 min read

Updated: Jun 18

Rethinking faith after the shutdowns, distractions, and overproduced Sunday mornings.

people sitting around a table, western setting — Photo by Clem Onojeghuo on Unsplash

Let me be clear: I’m not against campus-based churches. Not at all. I’ve been helped, encouraged, and challenged by them. I’ve served in them. I’ve found community, learned scripture, and seen people healed in their pews and lobbies.

But if we’re honest — really honest — the COVID shutdowns pulled back the curtain. Not in a dramatic, “churches are evil” kind of way. But in the quiet, uncomfortable, “what are we even doing?” kind of way.

Suddenly, we weren’t in buildings anymore.We weren’t being led by a stage team with fog machines and countdown timers. We weren’t sipping free coffee between services or navigating church apps to register for “authentic community.” And many of us didn’t miss it.

What if leaving the building was God’s idea?

I know, that sounds edgy. Maybe even sacrilegious. But hang with me.

What if the forced simplicity of pandemic church — Zoom calls, long walks, awkward prayer circles over FaceTime — wasn’t a detour, but a divine redirection?

What if the church, by losing its stage and systems for a moment, was invited back to something more raw, more human, more like Jesus?

Because somewhere along the way, we confused the methods with the mission.

We made “church” into a production.We called it community, but we scheduled every second.We said it was all about Jesus, but we often marketed it more like a brand.

Don’t get me wrong — structure isn’t evil. Jesus taught in synagogues. Paul wrote to house churches with leadership and instruction. But they weren’t trying to run empires. They weren’t building campuses that rivaled college football programs.

They were following Jesus in a complicated, ever-changing world.

Simpler doesn’t mean smaller

This isn’t a call to burn the whole thing down. (Though, let’s be honest, some of us flirted with that fantasy.) This is a call to return.

Return to what matters:

Gathering together, whether in a home or a parking lot.
Breaking bread without an agenda.
Carrying each other’s burdens (Galatians 6:2), not just reading each other’s prayer requests on a Facebook group.

The early church had no buildings, no programs, no staff hierarchies.And yet “the Lord added to their number daily” (Acts 2:47). Why? Because it was real. It was present. It was enough.

Richard Rohr puts it this way: “We worshipped Jesus instead of following him on the same path.”

We learned to talk about grace instead of extending it.We formed committees on outreach instead of walking across the street.We taught people how to behave in church without ever teaching them how to be the church.

Culture is shifting. Are we?

Muh of the next generation isn’t buying what we’re selling. And frankly, I don’t blame them.

They don’t want another “relevant” church that feels like a TED Talk and a Coldplay concert had a baby.

They’re not looking for another coffee bar with a Bible verse on the sleeve.

They want depth.
They want honesty.
They want space to ask questions without being labeled a “doubter.”
They want to experience faith, not just consume it.

And here’s reality: Jesus did all of that without a single Sunday morning service.

A messy middle-aged confession

I’ll be real. I’m not twenty-five anymore. I can’t keep up with TikTok theologians and exvangelical podcasts the way I used to.

But I’ve got enough life behind me now to know when something feels off.

I’ve seen churches with million-dollar budgets and zero relational depth.

I’ve sat in leadership meetings where we planned sermon series down to the exact Instagram post… but never stopped to ask how our people were actually doing.

And after COVID?After the forced slow-down, the emptied sanctuaries, the eerie quiet of Easter 2020?

I couldn’t go back to pretending that the way we did church wasn’t half the problem.

The sacred shift: from attendance to attention

Maybe the invitation now isn’t to rebuild the church as it was.Maybe it’s to reimagine it.

Not around programs.
Not around production.
But around people.

Henri Nouwen once said: “Community is the place where the person you least want to live with always lives.”

True church is inconvenient.It’s imperfect.It’s vulnerable.And it doesn’t need fog machines or a killer worship set to be holy.

It needs people who show up. Who stay. Who listen more than they lecture. Who break bread and let each other cry. Who share their doubts without shame and their hope without hype.

Scripture, not as a script — but a story we live into

The early church wasn’t trying to be relevant. They were just trying to survive. And yet they thrived because they were together.

“Let us not give up meeting together… but encouraging one another.” (Hebrews 10:25)

That verse has been used to guilt people back into pews. But it’s not about attendance. It’s about attention.

Paying attention to one another.Bearing witness to the ordinary sacredness of life.Staying awake to the presence of God in each other.

It’s about showing up for one another when the livestream ends and the kitchen sink is still full.

So what now?

Honestly, I don’t have a five-step solution. But maybe that’s the point.

Maybe instead of asking “How do we get people back in church?”we start asking,“What kind of people are we becoming?”

Are we loving well?Are we growing in mercy?Are we simplifying where we’ve complicated?Are we showing the next generation a faith that’s worth following?

If we are, then it won’t matter where we meet.

It’ll matter how we live.

Because the real church was never a building. It was always us.

So what’s your next step?

Maybe it’s inviting someone over for dinner instead of waiting for the next church potluck.
Maybe it’s starting a weekly walk-and-talk with two friends and calling it church.
Maybe it’s finally letting go of the guilt that you don’t “go” to church anymore — because you’re already being it.