On May 9th, 2025, tragedy struck twice. Two young men, two separate shootings, one small island left shaken. In the aftermath, the age-old question has returned with fresh urgency: What is happening to our youth?
From back-porch conversations to online comment threads, everyone is weighing in. Some blame gang culture, others the education system or absent parenting. But increasingly, a quieter voice is being heard, one that wonders if something deeper has been lost—something spiritual. Has Anguilla lost its moral compass? And is it because our youth no longer know—or want—God?
Personally, I’ve seen this shift firsthand at my church. Once-filled pews now sit half-empty. Young people I used to see every Sunday morning have drifted away. Even I have found myself slipping from routine worship—sometimes due to work, other times simply from mental fatigue. But the issue is not as simple as young people not wanting to wake up early.
“Church Just Ain’t Connecting With Us No More.” That’s how a 29-year-old put it. “Young people don’t find church as appealing due to being conditioned from social media to receive immediate gratification,”
To many, church feels more like a lecture hall than a place of refuge or relevance. They say it’s more focused on tradition than transformation, more rebuke than relationship. In an age of TikTok sermons and Instagram spirituality, the slow and steady rhythm of Sunday services can seem disconnected from the fast-paced, hyper-connected world young people live in.
But it’s not just about pace or format. Several young people pointed to tone.
“Pastors need to come down to young people’s level and speak to us, not at us,” one said. Another pointed to how condescension from some church leaders pushes young people away instead of drawing them in.
And the disconnect doesn’t start at the pulpit—it starts at home.
“Parents are no longer instilling certain values or taking their kids to church,” said a 33-year-old woman.
She noted that a growing number of parents—particularly those who had children as teenagers—never developed the habit of taking their children to church. Some grandparents didn’t either. The result? Entire generations growing up with no exposure to the church at all.
“The only time you ever see the child at church is for christenings,” she said.
Others pointed to the demanding nature of modern work, where long shifts and multiple jobs have pushed church off the weekly schedule.
But underneath the sermons, the schedules, and the shifting norms lies something more fragile: the fading sense of community.
“Church was an integral part of the community,” one person shared. “Now, with all these social and work activities, church is at the bottom of our priorities. “It all used to come from the house and the church, but if neither is functioning, chaos seems to be the result. That’s the reality we’re seeing.”
One young person recalled how, during this year’s Good Friday service, a senior minister was visibly disheartened by the lack of youth attendance.
Today, church membership is increasingly dominated by elders, while the youth are absent—by choice or by alienation.
Some young people did try. But they left after feeling judged.
“I stopped going because of how people looked at me. I didn’t dress the way they wanted me to, or I didn’t live the way they wanted me to. It made me uncomfortable,” one said.
The judgement, whispers and lack of inclusion by some church people has also disheartened me. For some, the message of “Come as you are” feels like lip service.
Another added, “Some people realise the conflicting hypocrisy of churches and members. They pick and choose what they want to follow or don’t practise what they preach. That’s why I distanced myself.”
One young man took it even further, challenging the roots of Christianity in the Caribbean altogether.
“It was pushed onto African slaves – our ancestors – by European slave masters and used to oppress them. Why should I blindly follow something like that just because it was passed down?”
That questioning is not unique to Anguilla. Across the Caribbean, similar patterns are emerging. A report from the Barbados Statistical Service found youth church attendance dropped by over 30% in a decade. The Jamaica Council of Churches cited religious fatigue and disinterest among youth. And in Trinidad & Tobago, researchers at UWI St. Augustine noted a 40% decline in participation among those under 30.
Still, not all have abandoned their faith. Some say they no longer attend, but the teachings remain a quiet guide.
“Even those of us who don’t go anymore still have the morals and teachings inside. It still guides us.”
And despite the visible decline, the foundation of Anguilla’s society remains built on Christian principles. Some churches have made strides to retain youth through modernised worship, outreach, and creating safe spaces for dialogue.
But many argue it shouldn’t take tragedy—like the events of May 9th—to stir the nation’s spiritual conscience.
So here we are—an island now caught in a rising tide of violence and spiritual uncertainty. The youth aren’t necessarily lost—they’re looking. But they need something real, something relevant, and something rooted in love, not just law.
As one voice put it: “The cycle needs to be broken. We need to get back to a moral society with absolute values.”
But what do Anguilla’s pastors have to say? In the next instalment, we’ll explore their views, and whether they are prepared to meet the youth where they are.
