Jerry and Wendy Goldsmith’s church is dying. Every Sunday, the congregation in Tipton, Iowa, draws about 30 of the town’s 3,000 residents to its morning service. The building, constructed in the late 19th century, is slowly falling apart. The church doesn’t have enough money to make repairs. Since the pastor retired last June, they’ve had an interim minister. Almost all the congregants are over 60. Their story is a common one. Many rural churches like Cedar Street are suffering a major decline in attendance. Part of the problem is the gradually decreasing population in small towns. But many more traditional country churches also aren’t effectively reaching younger generations and are struggling to fill pulpits. That’s turned rural America into one of the next mission fields ripe for harvest. Next Mission Field Tim Lubinus, executive director of the Baptist Convention of Iowa, has witnessed these religious and demographic changes playing out firsthand. The Iowa town Lubinus grew up in had around 500 residents when he was a teenager. Now, it has about half that number. The town where he attended high school had 1,600 people. It too has shrunk by nearly half. “When you have a 50 percent reduction in population, it’s hard to keep church attendance,” Lubinus pointed out. It’s also difficult to find and keep pastors in these areas. As the expectation for pastoral salaries goes up, the willingness to go to a smaller congregation—and take the often associated pay cut—goes down. In the absence of available clergymen, many churches are forced to rely on temporary solutions to fill their pulpits while they search for a long-term pastor. Rural America is one of the next mission fields ripe for harvest. Oakville, Iowa, has just under 200 residents. When Oakville Christian Church’s pastor retired last winter, 25-year-old Gabe Lockin of Iowa City got a text from his friend and fellow seminary graduate, Justyn Wyatt. Wyatt wanted to know if he’d be interested in starting a preaching rotation while the congregation—which included Wyatt’s grandparents—looked for a pastor. Wyatt and Lockin, along with some other friends, jumped at the chance to practice preaching. On Sunday mornings, they take turns driving over an hour to Oakville. The unassuming white church building holds about eight pews, but they don’t all get filled during services. “It depends on the weather,” Lockin said. “Around 20 to 30 people in the winter, with sketchy roads, and 30 to 40 in the summer.” Lockin described the congregants as sweet, hospitable, and eager. Most are farmers. Every Sunday, someone rattles off old hymns like “Happy the Home When God Is There” on the upright piano as an elder lights the altar candles with a brass lighter. On Mother’s Day, the congregation’s five children pass out flowers to their moms. After each service, people serve coffee and homemade cookies. Lockin wasn’t expecting much when he started preaching there. But soon, he was blown away by how fervently the tiny congregation loves Jesus. The church split from the United Methodist Church in 2023, becoming completely independent to hold to its biblically sound doctrine on the definition of marriage. The decision severed the congregation from its entire network of money and pastors. But even as their numbers dwindle, they’re confident God will provide. Lockin will preach his last sermon there in June. His schedule no longer allows him to make the weekly drive. Oakville has yet to find a full-time pastor. Looking for Hope Deep red, rural Iowa seems like a state that would be highly churched. But according to Ryan Burge, a political scientist who analyzes religious trends in America, it’s not. He said almost three in five Iowans go to church less than once a year. “That’s not a particularly religious state,” Burge said. One grim study estimates that a third of churches in America, about 100,000, will close in the next several years. At the very least, Burge expects tens of thousands of churches to close—many of them rural. While some aging churches pray for revival, other rural communities are planting new churches focused on converting and discipling the next generation. Six years ago, in the heart of the COVID-19 pandemic, eight small-town families started meeting near Urbana, Iowa. They huddled inside a garage, live streaming services from Veritas Church in Cedar Rapids, longing for their own pastor. At the same time, Jordan Howell, a pastor at Veritas, was preparing to plant a congregation with the Salt Network—a church-planting organization prioritizing large university cities. But in February 2024, the Veritas elders decided to help the Urbana families become an autonomous church. There was just one catch—they needed to find a pastor. Howell tagged along for the announcement. After the meeting, someone jokingly told him, “Well, hey, if your church plant doesn’t work out, you could always come to Urbana!” That night, driving down I-380, Howell began to seriously consider the suggestion. Is this crazy? he wondered. But he couldn’t shake the idea or the memory of the little congregation’s need. It’s so biblical, he thought. You have sheep without a shepherd. It’s right in front of my face. Howell reached out to Salt Network executive director Ryan Hill for advice. Hill told him lots of his peers wanted to do national church planting. But few of them expressed an interest in serving rural areas. “I don’t think there are a lot of young men your age who feel called and equipped to do rural church planting,” Hill said. That was it for Howell. In a matter of three weeks, he decided to take the job. Ripe for Harvest In a rented office space in Urbana—every seat filled, with more people standing in the back—the elders announced Howell’s decision. The room, full of people who had waited four years for a pastor, erupted into applause and tears. Howell remembers John Leonard, one of the founding members of Veritas Urbana, leaping out of his seat. “I imagine he cheers like that at most Cyclone football games, but probably not at many church member meetings,” he said, laughing. While some aging churches pray for revival, other rural communities are planting new churches focused on converting and discipling the next generation. Veritas Urbana now draws from 15 surrounding communities and averages 215 attendees on a Sunday morning, not counting children. Howell sees their church as a terminal, gathering people together and sending them out. That’s counterintuitive to a lot of small-town churches focused on preserving their familiar community rather than searching out those who don’t have any church background. Howell’s strategy acknowledges the countryside as the mission field it is. He says that without the grace of God, none of his church’s growth would be possible. He says he watches people who had no interest in church end up in the baptism tank. All because their banker or neighbor started talking to them about Jesus. Even as Veritas Urbana splits at the seam, hundreds of other Iowa parishes like the Goldsmiths’ are still waiting for a shepherd. Jerry Goldsmith is praying for someone to come preach the gospel message. “We’re all supposed to be missionaries,” he said. “We want to bring more people to Christ, but we don’t know how to do that.”

What happens when AI promises not just to help us work but to help us become the selves we most want to be? That question runs through this episode with Rachel Gilson, director of theological development and culture for Cru and the author of Born Again This Way and Parenting Without Panic in an LGBT-Affirming World. In our conversation, she brings unusual clarity to the question of work in the age of AI: not simply what these tools can do but what they may be doing to our integrity, our vocation, and our sense of ourselves. We talk about writing, voice, and the temptation to present work that isn’t really ours as though it were. AI may be able to write, but it cannot witness. It cannot speak from a life, a body, a history, or a situated perspective. That is why this episode isn’t a simple rejection of AI but a careful exercise in discernment: learning where these tools may genuinely help, and where they risk hollowing out the human work God has given us to do. We also explore desire, embodiment, personhood, and the difference between using a tool and being quietly deformed by it. Rachel joined me on Silicon Spiritualities to ask how Christians can work faithfully in the age of AI and how the Scriptures help us hold together honesty, community, embodiment, and hope. Resources Mentioned: Born Again This Way by Rachel Gilson Parenting Without Panic in an LGBT-Affirming World by Rachel Gilson Biblical Critical Theory by Christopher Watkin Entering into Rest by Oliver O’Donovan The Great Divorce by C. S. Lewis REGISTER for our 6-week cohort, Get Ready for the Age of AI, where you’ll get an exclusive, early, free copy of the book The AI Apocalypse, featuring Watkin, Gilson, and many others, such as Ben Sasse and Alan Noble. JOIN the conversation on Discord, along with other Silicon Spiritualities listeners. Help The Gospel Coalition renew and unify the contemporary church in the ancient gospel: Donate today.

Can Christians ask God for what they want and expect Him to answer? This collection of “ask and you shall receive” Bible verses explores what Scripture teaches about praying with faith, bringing requests honestly before God, checking our motives, abiding in Christ, and trusting the Father’s wisdom when His answer is yes, no, or wait.

Divorce is a tragic ending to a love story that was intended to go the distance. Nonetheless, there are times when divorce may be the safest or most faithful way forward to handle a relationship that has become unsafe and unsustainable. Divorce is often misunderstood in the Christian world as our faith champions long-lasting marriages, but upholding marriage should never require someone to remain in danger or enable ongoing harm. At times, the most loving response is to help someone seek safety, wise counsel, and, when necessary, separation or divorce so a couple can find freedom from an incredibly difficult relationship dynamic. Scripture treats divorce as serious and painful, but it never teaches that divorced believers are beyond God’s forgiveness, belonging, healing, or future purpose. God is faithful to walk with us through every trial we endure in this life. There is no condemnation for believers. Divorce is never God’s ideal, but neither is lifelong shame or pain. The Bible invites us to embrace God’s plan for healing, redemption, and renewed purpose.Scripture treats divorce as serious and painful, but it never teaches that divorced believers are beyond God’s forgiveness, belonging, healing, or future purpose.Photo Credit: ©GettyImages/AntonioGuillem

Any meaningful testimony about a life changed by Christ includes not only sin’s bankruptcy but also Jesus’s beauty and power to redeem. In the past, I’ve been skeptical about people coming to Christ not because they’ve seen his beauty but because they’ve only seen their sin’s ugly fruit. Such people have identified what they’re running from, but I’ve doubted their faith in the One they’re running to. While I still think Christ’s positive pull (Matt. 12:45) is more powerful than sin’s repelling nature (2 Pet. 2:22), our current cultural landscape has me reevaluating an unlikely evangelism tool: hellfire and brimstone. Outrage: No Match for God’s Plan “If you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention.” I’ve heard this slogan thrown around more times than I can count—and not just from those who’ve adopted conspiracy theories. The news cycle thrives on (and profits from) outrage. I’m not surprised when I learn of yet another public figure’s moral bankruptcy. I’m also not apathetic, but I resist the pull to be outraged. I still believe that God will, in the end, “cut them down.” And I’m starting to think my non-Christian neighbors and friends might also find the once-unpopular doctrine of God’s judgment attractive. With trust in public officials near an all-time low, more people are adopting a pessimistic outlook on the future. They’re no longer worried that something bad may happen. They reactively assume a posture of outrage when bad things are revealed. I’m starting to think my non-Christian neighbors and friends might also find the once-unpopular doctrine of God’s judgment attractive. For Christians who embrace the doctrine of depravity, our world’s evil shouldn’t be surprising. But it’d be imbalanced for us to mimic our neighbors’ outrage and pessimism. As defenses against disappointment, these postures seem effective, but sadly, they blind us from seeing the larger tapestry God is weaving. Yes, humans are hopelessly sinful (Rom. 3:9–18, 23). Yes, power often corrupts (Eccl. 4:1). Yet God isn’t deaf to the afflicted’s cries (Isa. 59:1). He’s not blind to their plight (Gen. 16:13). Outrage accomplishes little, though it does threaten our own flourishing (Matt. 6:27). What if instead we pointed our neighbors to the One who will exact perfect justice? For the LORD loves justice; he will not forsake his saints. They are preserved forever, but the children of the wicked shall be cut off. (Ps. 37:28) The psalmist here gives us both a warning and a promise. Saints calling on God’s name will be preserved eternally, but the wicked will receive their just damnation. To “be cut off” is no small consequence. It’s the appropriate way to deal with humanity’s secret sins. Surprised by Injustice? The Lord doesn’t only love justice; he also exacts it. Think of Jesus’s warning to the one who causes “little ones” to stumble: “It would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened around his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea” (Matt. 18:6). When a friend or neighbor asks me what I think, for example, of the Epstein files, these words seem highly applicable. Luke similarly records an interaction where Jesus is approached about deep moral corruption in the government. Pontius Pilate had profaned some Galileans’ worship by mixing their kinsmen’s blood with their sacrifices (Luke 13:1). What strikes me here is the lack of outrage among Jesus’s audience. Pilate’s evil is irrefutable. In our day, the online world would burn red-hot condemning his actions. Yet it’s not surprising to Jesus’s audience. Why are we so scandalized when yet another public figure’s deeds are exposed as evil? I suspect many of us have a naive view of human depravity. Your neighbors and mine likely believe they’re upright moral citizens. In the post-Enlightenment West, they extend their belief in humanity’s goodness to those in positions of power. And all the while, they clutch their pearls when the latest scandal breaks—and break it will. Fertile Gospel Ground Our culture’s shock at evil is fertile ground for gospel conversations. My neighbors need to be told (as I need to be reminded) of the full gospel narrative and the place on redemptive history’s timeline we currently inhabit. Humanity was created good, but we live in a fallen world. We shouldn’t be surprised when bad people do bad things. Later, when the rich young ruler approaches Jesus and calls him good, Jesus philosophizes about the sentiment: “Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone” (Luke 18:18–19). If Jesus can use this tool, so can we. When a coworker brings up the latest celebrity evil, invite him or her into the Bible’s narrative. “Why are you surprised when the evil deeds of those with influence come to light?” Humanity was created upright, but he pursues many evil schemes (Eccl. 7:29), often hurting others in the process. Yet a day is coming when God’s justice will make all things right. He’ll punish the evil ones eternally in hell. And this is good news. Humanity was created good, but we currently live in a fallen world. We shouldn’t be surprised when bad people do bad things. The question is whether we’ll take stock of our own souls. We have little control over what goes on out there in the world. But we must decide to turn away from sin and to Christ for ourselves. Will we repent? I’ve often heard that the gospel is “bad news” before it’s “good news.” Before we can see how great a Savior Jesus is, we must grasp the wretchedness of our sinfulness. Not only are those in power capable of great evil—so are we. We’re not exempt from God’s justice. Will You Examine Your Heart? When we see evil in the world, will it prompt us to examine ourselves? We can shake our fists at the evil powers all we want, but we all must work out our own salvation with fear and trembling. God’s justice will be exacted, either on us in hell or on the Substitute. That’s the call we must extend to our neighbors. The only perfectly just man to ever live also suffered an unjust death. The same Pilate who profaned the Galileans’ sacrifices oversaw the profaning of Jesus. But so did we. So before we respond with outrage at the world’s injustice, we must repent for the injustice in our own hearts. Apart from Christ, we all deserve hell. But Jesus suffered for us at the hands of an unjust system. This is good news even for those who don’t yet know it. Maybe you can tell them . . . and use God’s judgment of evil as your starting point.