Many viewed the pandemic as just another interruption to their most essential means of discipleship —in-person worship — and planned for communications to return to prepandemic methods after sheltering-in-place mandates ended.

However, as the pandemic receded, churches discovered unexpected benefits to their newly adopted tech.

Some even saw the forced change as an opportunity to reimagine church. They brainstormed how to ​​enhance livestream service quality and deepen connections with congregants through online platforms.

But others have cautioned against too much tech adoption.

It could encourage congregants to depend on leaders to handle communication and outreach tasks.

Or encourage leaders to view their churches as consumer "products," focusing on analytics, charts, and figures rather than the fundamental functions of pastoral ministry.

Virtual church?

A study on the State of Church Tech 2024 conducted by Pushpay — a fast-growing software as a service company in the faith sector — reveals a somewhat predicted, albeit still surprising, change in American church attendance.

Our desire to return to a pre-COVID style church has diminished.

The study claims the desire to return to in-person-only ministry is now waning, driving enthusiasm for church tech solutions.

In 2024, just 10 percent of churches said they were sticking to in-person-only services, while a whopping 90 percent are either keeping or enacting a hybrid model (in-person and online).

In last year's report, nearly three out of 10 leaders said they might move back to in-person-only services, signaling a possible shift away from a hybrid. But in 2024, that figure (those returning to in-person-only ministry) fell by 21 percent.

According to the report, less than one percent of churches are currently fully digital, but some pastors are concerned this number will rapidly grow in the next few years.

Back in 2021, after churches were returning to a "new" normal, assistant professor and pastor Jared Wilson tweeted, "Virtual church isn't church."

"When I was pastoring, there was a reason I regularly visited shut-ins and nursing homes rather than just emailing them or sending them a newsletter. Embodiment matters," Wilson added.

"Biblically speaking, it is even necessary."

Wilson told MinistryWatch that virtual church also obstructs genuine community, membership and pastoral care.

It transforms into an "individualized consumer product" immersed in a "pragmatism antithetical to the spiritual concerns of the New Testament vision."

But PushPay Chief Technology Officer Aaron Senneff told MinistryWatch that he rarely encounters someone advocating leaving in-person ministry to go entirely virtual.

Senneff recognizes that in-person ministry is effective but often leaves out alums, shut-ins, and online churchgoers "who won't be reached without a digital presence," like livestreaming services on the church's app or website.

Tackling the problem of anonymity

Senneff said one of his priorities is to solve the fundamental challenges of anonymity, which have been a growing issue since the pandemic.

It's too easy to walk in and out of church without ever connecting with someone.

But this happens online, too, he said. "Many churches have thousands of people watching but have no idea who they are. We want to help large churches operate in a small way."

It is possible to use technology to foster meaningful connections, he said.

Digital footprints, such as attendance and volunteering, indicate engagement.

Senneff advocates for a symbiotic relationship between technology and staff, where digital systems complement rather than replace human interaction.

These systems can help identify individuals in need and assemble church data into information leadership can use.

For example, if data indicated that a person stopped tithing after a period of consistent giving, leaders might deduce he or she could be experiencing family or financial distress and reach out.

Another example may be looking for indicators of volunteer burnout. Staff could note how often someone signs up to serve and consider giving them a break before risking burnout.

In response, Wilson agreed that digital methods can tell us some important things, but not "the most" important things.

These methods threaten to replace substantive relationships among members, said Wilson, and the pastor-member connection bound up in the New Testament vision for the local church.

"The Bible's primary concern about church behaviors and patterns are not quantifiable metrics but rather the fruit of the Spirit, maturation in Christ through discipleship and so on," he said.

"Those are the most important ‘metrics,' and they are not things easily discernible by digital footprints.

"They require actual relationships, actually engaged pastors and other leaders (not merely digital observers or programmers), and actual intentionality to disciple, not merely to ‘resource.'"

He said the solution to anonymity lies in pastors shepherding the flock, ensuring every member receives relational care, even in larger churches.

"If the COVID experience taught us anything, it's that virtual connection can be a helpful tool, but it absolutely is no replacement for the meaningful connection of in-person relationships," said Wilson.

"Life-on-life community is the only solution to the problem of anonymity."

Responsibility key

Editorial director for 9Marks Jonathan Leeman believes tech tools can be used well or poorly, like any technology.

"Responsible pastors will use those tools to prevent people from falling through the cracks," he told MinistryWatch.

"It's easy to miss or forget people, especially as a church grows."

He said pastors can regularly remind a congregation of the responsibility to help one another follow Jesus and build one another up in the faith.

"Helping other Christians follow Jesus is what it means to follow Jesus. This is not just the job for pastors but for every Christian. It's Christianity 101."

Leeman suggested pastors prioritise discipleship and clear expectations for membership, practice church discipline, and increase the number of elders for better care.

Consolidating services promotes accountability and community, avoiding anonymity issues.

As for PushPay CTO Senneff, he said in a time when IT and ministry are starting to intermix, he would like to see churches shift their views of tech's role in the church.

"I would love to see churches consolidate tech tools and better use them to further the kingdom," Senneff said.

"For them to think about improving as a whole to strongly connect with others."

• Article published in Religion Unplugged
• Jessica Eturralde is a military wife of 18 years and mother of three who serves as a freelance writer, TV host, and filmmaker.

The country is in lockdown to manage the delta outbreak, and all the worshippers at Sri Venkateswara, a Hindu temple in Wainuiomata, Lower Hutt, are at home.

Online, though, the bells are ringing.

A priest chants prayers on the Facebook livestream, and for a moment, the screen doesn't seem to matter: this is just another day of worship.

"When you are seeing the holy shrine via a digital channel, it's a different experience," says BMK Lakshminarayanan, the chair of the temple, who oversees the temple activities and performs ceremonies. But "it can still feel like you're there".

I do not share his faith, but as I watch the video, I can nearly smell the ghee and incense, familiar to me from a childhood visiting temples in India.

A click away, though, is the rest of my Facebook feed: promoted MasterClasses, people making bread, and American Chopper memes. Is there any space for the sacred among the endless scroll of the mundane?

It's not just Hinduism.

More than half of New Zealanders say they are religious, and in lockdown, these millions try to replace their physical communities of faith with online equivalents. Around Aotearoa, faith leaders are learning to use laptops, not altars;

WhatsApp, not home visits.

Circumstances of necessity like the pandemic encourage technological uptake, but what challenges does online worship pose? And will it last?

Online worship requires faith leaders to work on a practical level: microphones, links, cameras.

Often, the results are unsatisfactory.

"Some churches are better at it than others, but unless they were good at it already, digital churches will have low production values," says Michael Toy, a PhD student studying digital religious expressions at Victoria University of Wellington.

This is particularly true of Zoom services.

Even within the uses, it was designed for - business meetings where one person speaks at a time - it can easily glitch.

The problems multiply when elements of worship, such as singing, praying out loud, and sharing different screens are added: people freeze in the middle of songs, the wrong person gets pinned to the main screen, and there's an explosion of noise as people try to greet each other.

Dave Moskowitz is a shamash at Temple Sinai, a progressive Jewish congregation in Wellington.

In-person, a shamash (the Hebrew word for a synagogue attendant) will open the temple, arrange chairs, and organise music. When the congregation meets on Zoom, he becomes an "e-shamash", organising a link to the meeting, and welcoming people as they arrive on screen.

The platform can be limiting. "Our members are older and not as technically literate," Moskowitz says.

"Some have trouble operating Zoom, or staying muted."

Technical knowledge is essential for online services at the Wellington Anglican Diocese, where assistant bishop Ellie Sanderson preaches on YouTube each week; off-screen, someone with a soundboard and lots of monitors can flick between her, musicians, and people giving announcements.

"We are really thankful that we had people with the technical know-how to create digital services for us," she says.

The practical facilitation of online worship has positive sides.

Digital services can be vital for people who cannot come to physical services - those who live far from their places of worship, and those who are ill or have disabilities.

"Would-be worshippers can't always be present in person, for varied reasons, and there is greater recognition of the ways technology can helpfully connect people in these circumstances," says Geoff Troughton, assistant professor of religious studies at Victoria University of Wellington, who studies contemporary religion in Aotearoa.

"This will drive ongoing innovations."

Sanderson, the Anglican bishop, knows this first hand: last year, after surgery on her neck, she couldn't leave the house for weeks. But she still had Zoom church.

"My vehicle for worship was the online service," she says, "and I really felt that God broke my heart in fresh ways, encouraged me, spoke to my grief."

Online prayer and teachings has also meant faith communities can expand their reach, including people who would never come to in-person gatherings on their own.

"It might help for people who are new to our religion," says Tahir Nawaz, a Muslim chaplain involved with mosques across Wellington.

"They used to hesitate to come and ask questions… but now there's an entry to online [interactions]. It definitely will help bring us together."

Despite the tedium of muting microphones or the hilarious irreverence of accidental Zoom filters, those with a faith find that digital worlds can be a place of genuine spiritual encounter.

Attesting to this is Elisa Choi, who organises "Rally" meetings with the Rice movement, an evangelical organisation focused on young Asians.

She was praying with a friend before a Rally gathering, with people across Aotearoa linked via Zoom.

A pastor started praying for someone with a bad ankle, asking God for healing.

The prayer ended, and Choi's friend jumped up; the pain in her ankle, which had been sprained for weeks, was gone, says Choi.

According to Choi, it's not a one-off.

"There's so many more stories and testimonies of people who have mental health prayed over [online], finding healing and release."

That online prayer can be answered is encouraging, because creating digital space that is both sacred and communal is a difficult task.

For a start, there's the well-documented phenomenon of screen fatigue, meaning online faith content can simply be tiring.

Many religious groups choose not to offer anything at all and encourage their communities to spend time in individual prayer and worship instead.

Digital services may be poorly attended.

There's also the problem of focus.

"What digital life does well is distract us," says Toy, the PhD student in Wellington.

"In a physical space with no screens around it's easier to direct your attention to God or the sacred. If your phone is on the table, part of your brain is having to work to ignore it."

I'm interviewing Toy in a sterile study room at the university, my laptop on the table and my phone recording. I try to disregard the devices, and pay even more attention.

There are also potential ethical snags: in choosing to use giant digital platforms to offer worship, religious leaders expose their congregants to the extractive practices of offshore corporations.

Google and Facebook are international companies that offer social functionality as a way to gather data to sell to advertisers; partaking in a worship service using their platforms creates privacy implications that aren't at issue when attending a local place of worship.

On these websites, the intimacy of religious expression is subject to the same profiteering as tagging a friend in a giveaway or liking a video.

But more fundamentally, online worship raises thorny theological questions about what makes rituals real and meaningful.

"Slick performances and high production values only carry so far, and it is hard to reproduce the communal feel and emotional energy of ‘main show' event religion online," says Troughton, the religious studies professor.

"Rituals are about affect, emotion, and experience as much as they are about ideas. Most are embedded in community and community relationships, and simply don't translate in a satisfying way online." Continue reading