The Summer Slump | Vacations, VBS, and Vanishing Volunteers

Summer Church Attendance

You know it's summer when your youth pastor starts doing mental math every Wednesday night, trying to figure out why attendance dropped from 75 kids to, like, 12. And somehow those 12 kids are all the ones whose parents make them come no matter what—the homeschooled kids who wear polo shirts tucked into khakis and know every verse to "How Great Thou Art" by heart.

Welcome to what churches across America like to call "the summer slump," which sounds way more official than "everyone decided the lake is more important than Jesus for three months straight."

The Great Vanishing Act

Let me paint you a picture. School lets out, and suddenly church attendance starts looking like a game of musical chairs where half the chairs just walked away. We're talking about what the Bible Bros Podcast guys call "the VVV's of summer"—Vacations, VBS, and Vanishing volunteers. Though honestly, that third V could just as easily stand for "Very convenient excuses."

It's fascinating how creative people get with their summer church avoidance. You've got your classic "we're traveling" folks, which is legitimate until you realize their "travel" is to the lake that's literally 10 minutes from the church. Then there are the parents who suddenly discover their kid is the next Derek Jeter and has to play in every single baseball tournament within a three-state radius. Funny how little Timmy wasn't quite so athletically gifted during the winter worship services.

But here's what really gets me—and this is straight from the mouths of youth pastors who've seen it all—sometimes people will say they can't make it to church because of their kid's tournament, but they'll "watch online instead." Then Sunday comes around, and you can literally see on Facebook that they're not online either. The church streaming platform has a participant list, Karen. We can see you're not there. You're probably at Cracker Barrel talking about how the sermon "just hits different" when you're eating biscuits and gravy.

Mission Trips: The Good, The Bad, and The Zip Lines

Now, not every reason for missing church is bogus. Take mission trips, for instance. Some churches do these incredible, life-changing experiences where you're actually ministering 24/7. The guys on the podcast talked about trips to Peru where they were doing street theater, going door to door, buying out entire bakeries to give away free bread while telling people about the Bread of Life. That's the real deal right there.

But then you've got the other kind of mission trips—the ones that sound more like summer camp with a sprinkle of Jesus dust on top. "Yeah, we're gonna do VBS for two hours, then we're going zip-lining. Tomorrow we'll have a Bible study, then it's go-kart time!"

Look, I'm not saying fun is bad. But somewhere along the way, "mission trip" started meaning "vacation with a tax write-off." When your mission trip itinerary looks like a Disney World FastPass schedule, maybe we need to have a conversation about priorities.

The funniest part is how these things have evolved over the years. Used to be, mission trips meant sleeping on the floor in buildings with dead rats, outdoor showers with those solar water bags hanging in the sun, and PVC pipe plumbing that may or may not actually work. Now it's like, "We're staying at the Hampton Inn because the kids need their rest for tomorrow's ministry... and jet skiing."

The Lake People Phenomenon

Can we talk about lake people for a second? Because if your church is anywhere near a body of water larger than a puddle, you know exactly what I'm talking about. These are the folks who treat their boat like it's their church pew from June through August.

One of the podcast hosts actually became a Christian because of lake people, in the most backward way possible. His friend invited him to the lake, he said he had to go to church first, and the guy was like, "Well, that sounds lame, but I really want to go to the lake, so... fine." Boom. Life changed. Sometimes God works through our selfishness, apparently.

But here's the thing about lake people—they're not necessarily bad people. They're just people who've discovered that sitting on a pontoon boat with a cooler full of sandwiches feels a lot more peaceful than sitting in a sanctuary with a screaming toddler three rows up. Can you blame them? Have you ever tried to have a spiritual moment while someone's kid is doing interpretive dance to "Amazing Grace"?

The Sports Industrial Complex

And then we have the parents who've been convinced that their 8-year-old's weekend baseball tournament is somehow more important than, you know, worshiping the Creator of the universe. These tournaments are always exactly two hours away—never one hour, never three hours. Always two hours. Just far enough that you "can't possibly make it back for church" but close enough that you definitely could if you actually wanted to.

The best part is when these same parents complain that their kids aren't getting enough spiritual foundation at home. Well, maybe if you spent Sunday mornings in church instead of screaming at a teenager in stripes about a questionable call at second base, little Johnny might learn something about grace and forgiveness.

But sports schedules are sacred in America. More sacred than actual sacred things, apparently. We'll move heaven and earth to make sure kids don't miss practice, but missing church? That's just part of growing up, right?

The Volunteer Exodus

While we're on the subject of summer church struggles, let's talk about volunteers. Or rather, the complete lack thereof.

Picture this: You're the worship leader, and you've got your summer schedule all planned out. Then June hits, and suddenly everyone remembers they have somewhere else to be. Your usual guitar player? Family reunion. Your drummer? Mission trip (the good kind). Your backup singer? Lake house. Your other backup singer? Different lake house.

So now you're standing there on Sunday morning with what essentially amounts to a church karaoke setup, desperately texting people at 8:47 AM: "Can you play tambourine? Please? I'll buy you lunch."

The really frustrating part is when people don't even try to find replacements. They just text you the night before like, "Hey, can't make it tomorrow. Family thing." Oh, a family thing? On the same weekend you've known about for six months? Revolutionary.

And God bless the people who are always there, because they end up getting scheduled for everything. There's always that one guy who shows up every single Sunday no matter what, so he becomes the default backup for everyone else's vacation plans. "Oh, Jeff'll do it. Jeff doesn't have a life." Jeff's probably at home right now, looking at his calendar and realizing he's scheduled for the next eight Sundays straight because everyone else discovered the lake.

The Art of Christian Gathering

Here's where things get really interesting, though. One of the podcast hosts went on this beautiful rant about how everything Christians do together has to be "extra Christian." Like, why can't you just have a pool party without someone breaking out their worn copy of "Jesus Calling" for an impromptu devotional?

Picture it: You're at someone's house, everyone's having a good time, the hot dogs are perfectly grilled, and then suddenly: "Okay everyone, gather around! Before we jump in the pool, let's have a quick devotion. I've been reading through Genesis, and I just want to share something that really spoke to my heart..."

Meanwhile, the kids are standing there in their swimsuits, chlorine is evaporating, and everyone's pretending to pay attention while mentally calculating how long this is going to take.

Why does every single Christian gathering need a spiritual component? Can't we just... hang out? Can't we just be friends who happen to go to the same church without turning every moment into a teaching opportunity?

Band practice is apparently the worst. You're supposed to start at six, but people roll in at 6:15 because Johnny's still eating his dinner (at church, apparently). Then instead of just running through the songs, someone's got to ask for prayer requests. Then there's a devotional. Then finally, maybe, you can actually practice the songs you're supposed to play on Sunday.

It's like we've forgotten that sometimes fellowship is just... fellowship. Not every conversation needs to end with "let's pray about it." Sometimes you can just eat a burger and complain about your job like normal humans.

The Solution Nobody Wants to Hear

So what's the answer to the summer church exodus? Well, the obvious one is just... don't leave. Make a decision not to miss. Revolutionary concept, I know.

But here's the thing—churches are air-conditioned. If it's hot outside, it's not hot inside (unless the AC's broken, in which case, all bets are off). If you're staying home because it's too hot, save that excuse for winter when you'll stay home because it's too cold.

The real issue isn't weather or sports or even lakes. The real issue is priorities. We've somehow convinced ourselves that worship is optional when life gets busy or fun. But maybe—and hear me out here—maybe the times when we least feel like going to church are exactly the times we need it most.

One pastor puts it this way: don't put God first, put God only. Everything else should revolve around that decision, not the other way around.

Finding Balance (Without a Devotional)

Look, nobody's saying you can't go on vacation or that your kids shouldn't play sports or that boats are instruments of Satan. The point is balance, and maybe a little honesty about our motivations.

If you're going to miss church, at least own it. Don't pretend you're going to watch online when everyone knows you're going to be too busy perfecting your cornhole technique at the family reunion. And if you're a volunteer who needs to be gone, maybe—crazy idea—help find your own replacement instead of leaving your leader scrambling at the last minute.

Better yet, if you know you're going to be out of town, find a church where you're going and actually go. Novel concept: worship doesn't have to happen in your home church building to count.

And for the love of all that's holy, can we please have one pool party this summer that doesn't require a group devotion? Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is just be present with people without making it weird.

The Bottom Line

Summer church attendance will probably always be a thing. People will always find reasons to skip out when the weather's nice and vacation season hits. But maybe if we were a little more honest about it—and a little more intentional about staying connected to our faith communities even when life gets fun—we wouldn't see such a dramatic exodus every June.

Besides, if you think about it, some of the best spiritual moments happen outside traditional church settings anyway. That mission trip to Mexico where you slept on the floor and dealt with outdoor showers? Probably more transformative than three months of comfortable Sunday services.

Just maybe don't try to convince everyone that your lake weekend is basically the same thing as a mission trip. We can see right through that one.

And please, for everyone's sake, stop trying to turn every casual Christian gathering into a small group meeting. Sometimes we just want to eat hot dogs and go swimming without discussing the theological implications of pool maintenance.

Trust me, the kingdom of God will survive your pool party just fine without a devotional.