“For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” —Ephesians 2:10
When Churches Forget Who They Are
A crisis is quietly unfolding in many local churches—not a crisis of attendance or funding, but of identity.
In our age of instant access, it’s easier than ever to mimic what’s trending. With a few clicks, a church can adopt another ministry’s vision statement, worship style, or leadership model. We borrow sermons, swap slogans, and mimic strategies. But in the process, something vital is often lost—the unique voice God has given your church for your place and your people.
Like Jacob wearing Esau’s clothes, we may gain attention, but we risk losing authenticity. When we wear someone else’s armor, we become less agile, less faithful, and ultimately less fruitful.
What if our calling isn’t to replicate what’s working elsewhere, but to rediscover the DNA God already planted in us?
God Doesn’t Mass-Produce Churches
The Scriptures remind us that God is not in the business of mass production. He’s a craftsman—intentional, precise, and personal. The local church is not a franchise. It is a body (1 Cor. 12:12), a household (Eph. 2:19), a temple (1 Pet. 2:5), and a bride (Rev. 19:7). None of these metaphors speak of uniformity; all speak of uniqueness shaped by grace.
Ephesians 2:10 tells us that we, both individually and communally, are God’s workmanship. That word, poiēma, suggests poetry, artistry, and craftsmanship. Churches are not factories; they are poems of grace meant to be read by a watching world.
And like any good poem, your church has a voice—a tone, cadence, and rhythm—that reflects the unique combination of who your leaders are, where you’ve been planted, and who God has brought into your community.
Three Questions for the Church Ready to Listen
If your church is willing to lean in, to listen deeply rather than copy quickly, consider these three questions as the beginning of a sacred discernment process:
1. Who Has God Placed in Leadership?
The personality, passions, and theology of your lead pastor often set the tone of the church’s voice. That’s not accidental—it’s providential. God’s calling and gifting on a leader is often the seedbed for the direction of a congregation. What burdens has your pastor carried for years? What spiritual gifts naturally shape the rhythms of decision-making? What wounds and experiences have softened their heart toward specific types of ministry?
2. What Story Is Your Community Telling?
Every neighborhood, town, or city is narrating a story—sometimes one of despair, sometimes one of pride, often a mix of both. The question is: Have you learned to exegete your place as carefully as you exegete Scripture? The gospel is always contextual—Jesus came to a real town, with real people, in a real political moment. Your church was not placed in your zip code by accident. What problems break your heart? What doors seem to open again and again?
3. Who Are Your People—and Why Might They Be Here?
The spiritual gifts, stories, and callings in your pews are not random. The stay-at-home mom with a background in addiction recovery, the retired teacher who weeps in prayer, the teenager who’s never met his dad—these are not just congregants. They are co-laborers, image bearers, and living stones (1 Pet. 2:5). What if part of your church’s calling is hidden in plain sight—in the people God has already gathered?
A Gospel-Rooted Identity, Not a Trend-Driven Brand
What the Church needs today is not better branding, but better beholding. The kind of beholding that says, “Lord, who have you made us to be?” and “What does faithfulness look like right here, right now?”
Jesus didn’t tell every person He healed to do the same thing. He didn’t plant every church to reach the same crowd. And He won’t hold your congregation accountable for another church’s success—but for your own faithfulness (Luke 19:17).
Don’t spend your days chasing someone else’s fruit. Dig down to your church’s root.
What If Clarity Is a Form of Courage?
Clarity about your identity—your church DNA—requires courage. It’s easier to copy than to discern. Easier to follow a trend than to follow the Spirit. But clarity invites confidence. And confidence, when rooted in the gospel, breeds a kind of freedom that can’t be franchised.
You don’t need to be the next big thing.
You need to be the next faithful thing.
And maybe that starts with asking, in prayerful humility:
“Lord, who have You made us to be—for such a time as this?”