It is happening now, all around you. The half-life of faith is getting shorter and shorter. The tipping point is upon us and, when it comes, the end game will play out with astonishing rapidity. Here or there rosy-eyed souls will see a little flutter of faith and call it revival, but they will be merely noticing seed that has fallen on shallow soil and sprung up quickly. Soon enough, those rootless new growths will wither and die…
The real acid of modernity, however, is not intellectual. It might actually just be acid. And weed. And fentanyl. And TikTok and X and Instagram. In the fierce competition of the attention economy, God lost out. Your time is now filled with posing and posting, liking and sending, scrolling and trolling.
There will be abandoned houses of worship everywhere. Abandoned megachurches and abandoned neighborhood churches, abandoned storefront churches and abandoned historic churches. Churches with determinedly modern architecture, abandoned. Also cathedrals. And chapels.
There will, of course, be a few stubborn old people too set in their ways to give in. They will keep to the old paths, albeit moving ever more slowly upon them. But soon they will be gone. Cancer… something is coming for them. And they will be gone. They will not be replaced…
It is not exactly that you will have decisively stopped believing. It is just with life being so busy and all. It is good to sleep in when you can. Then there are all the sports and other activities the kids are in which so often meet on Sundays. The weekend fills up quickly. God will become de-centered. And a superfluous God is no God at all. He will have the decency to quietly bow out… 
It is unlikely that you will have mastered some careful argument that explains why God cannot exist or be worthy of your worship. It will just be that, in all the rush, you somehow never got around to teaching the kids to pray. Not that you were an inattentive parent. God forbid! (as it were). There was summer camp and winter camp. There was sports camp and band camp. There were playdates and birthday parties. There was an entire year of dance team competitions. There was soccer and theater, e-sports and golf, cheerleading and swimming, not to mention the tutoring. You can be truly satisfied that you packed a lot in. But you never taught the kids to pray…
Bless my soul, no, you won’t be persecuted for your faith, even if you are not ready to flat out renounce it. Faith will just no longer be fashionable. It will not be the done thing in your set, let alone the set you aspire to join. Mentioning church, let alone worship, will become embarrassing. You will never consciously decide to leave the faith and so you will never think to miss it. You will imagine it is still around somewhere to be accessed if and when the time seems right. But somehow the time will never seem right…
But right before the end, when two or three people who are still faithful believers gather together, how holy it will be. The fervor of their worship will shake the foundations of the earth. The efficacy of their prayers will work signs and wonders. The very stars will sing along with them. They will overflow with such joy that everyone who encounters them will begrudgingly admit to themselves that they have probably never experienced genuine joy.
And the last Christian on earth will be the most powerful, radiant person in the world. He will contain within himself the power to recreate the world. She will contain within herself the power to order and reorder the universe. The very mountains will obey them. What they bind on earth will be bound in heaven and what they loose on earth will be loosed in heaven. And all of creation will hang on their word of blessing.

Timothy Larsen, “The Last Christian,”
https://currentpub.com/2024/08/16/the-last-christian/