Why more people are becoming spiritual but not religious
I’m having my Sunday morning latte again while watching the smartly dressed folk heading into the church. Meanwhile, just a few doors down, there is a building that used to be a church and is now a community centre. (In the UK, as religiosity has declined, many church buildings are now apartment blocks, restaurants, or multi-use spaces).
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I watch several people step inside to start their Sunday with a restorative Yin yoga class and wonder for how many of them this will be a personal, spiritual experience rather than just deep breaths and stretches.
Today, I’m thinking about spirituality. Not the kind that comes with the hymn book, pew and a collection plate, but the kind that is harder to pin down. Chances are, you’ve come across the phrase ‘spiritual but not religious’, or SBNR for short, even if just in passing. The phrase has become increasingly common over the last couple of decades, and the Google Trends chart below demonstrates its gradual rise in popularity as a search term.
SBNR is a fascinating, albeit contentious, landscape of belief. One that seems to rub many religious and non-religious folk the wrong way. At first glance, it looks like a straightforward, plain old, millennialist, 21st-century rejection of organised religion. But if you dig a little deeper and move past the eye-rolling critics, it offers some richer insights for the spiritually curious.
What exactly is SBNR?
For many, spiritual but not religious is part of their identity. It’s who they are, even if they don’t shout about it. An SBNR identity hinges on a distinction between personal, individualised experiences (spirituality) and the more structured, communal aspects of a traditionally organised religion. For many SBNRs, spirituality is deeply felt, authentic and grounded personal experience—that unexplainable sense of connection with oneself, others, nature, or some transcendent reality. Religion, in contrast, can often be seen as a rigid, rule-bound, and tainted by either historical baggage (e.g., indulgences, child abuse) and modern controversies (e.g., Christian nationalism).
Being SBNR allows people to find and maintain a sense of meaning in their lives without the bindings of prescribed dogmas or affiliation with institutions they view with scepticism. Karen Armstrong, a personal hero of mine, states that humans are ‘meaning-seeking creatures who invent stories to find value and place in a chaotic world‘. An SBNR is telling the world, ‘Hey, I believe in something, but it isn’t that.’
The critics weigh in
Of course, not everyone is a fan of the SBNR label. Atheists wonder why people need to believe in anything ‘spiritual’ at all. Critics such as Matt Dillahunty argue that “spiritual” is a vague and ill-defined term—a kind of catch-all for mysteries that haven’t been fully thought through and neatly solved by science. He suggests that many SBNRs borrow concepts from organised religion while simultaneously rejecting the very institutions that gave rise to those ideas. In his view, being spiritual is an emotionally driven position lacking rational justification. It’s for those who are not thinking rationally.
At the other end of the spectrum, there’s Mike Winger, who takes a slightly different tack. He argues that the perceived benefits of being SBNR, such as “no strings attached” spirituality or the allure of open-mindedness are often illusory. He, along with many other Christians believes true spirituality requires a deeper, more consistent commitment and a willingness to grapple with the “baggage” that comes with having faith in God. In Winger’s world, the SBNR identity is a cop-out. Just a way of avoiding the hard work of engaging with a specific belief system. It’s for those who are too lazy or afraid of seeking the ‘right’ path.
A historical perspective
When I first began researching the history of SBNR, one aspect I found interesting is that the SBNR phenomenon isn’t as new as it might seem. In my head (from history classes) I associated the movement beginning with the cultural revolution of the 1960s but actually it goes back much further. Scholars like Robert Fuller trace its roots back to the 1800-1900s, with figures like Ralph Waldo Emerson and William James. While quite different in their approach to spirituality, both Emerson and James were highly critical of organised religion, dogma and institutional overreach. Both also believed that spiritual experiences exist as real human phenomena.
Fuller argues that what is different here in contemporary Western societies is the way we think about spirituality and religion. Where they were once seen as two sides of the same coin, they are now positioned as opposites. One individual and subjective, and the other institutional and collective.
Jeff Kripal, another scholar in the field, suggests the movement is a form of moral protest. In younger generations particularly, identifying as SBNR is a small and quiet, but revolutionary act of pushing back against the perceived negativity and intolerance of some religious voices in the public sphere. They grow up in a diverse and inclusive world, and it’s surreal and unpleasant to see organised religion being so prejudiced. Again, this is a way of saying, ‘I believe in something, but it isn’t that.’ They don’t want to be associated with the intolerance of organised religion, but they aren’t atheists either.
Why does this matter?
I’m not going to completely dismiss the views of Winger and Dillahunty, but by nailing down their positions, they risk overlooking and dismissing the genuine motivations and experiences of those who identify as spiritual but not religious. For some, this might include the moral protest, as above. A statement that ‘goodness’ does not need to be rooted in Christian doctrine. Research by Linda Mercadante suggests that many SBNRs have undergone a ‘spiritual turn’, in that they place higher value on self-expression over adherence to doctrine. For others, it’s about autonomy – having the freedom to question and determine their own beliefs without external imposition. For others it might be about authenticity, and the desire to live in accordance with one’s ‘true self’.
It’s somewhat ironic, even a little hypocritical, how both devout Christians and outspoken atheists often bemoan the rise of the SBNR movement, despite being such vocal champions of freedom and morality themselves. It’s one rule for thee and another rule for me, as the saying goes.
Why more people are becoming spiritual but not religious
While critics – especially those at the organised religious end of the spectrum – often characterise SBNRs as spiritually lazy or disengaged, research suggests this is not the case. Mercadante’s research reveals that belief remains a critical aspect of the SBNR ethos. Many even actively engage in constructing new theological territories. They explore ideas about transcendence, human nature, and the afterlife. Hardly ‘spiritually lazy’, is it? Yes, they do reject traditional religious frameworks, but they often “believe in something,” whether it’s a sense of interconnectedness, an internal “divinity,” or a different form of transcendence marked by human connection with the natural world.
Why We Need to Listen
The rising number of individuals identifying as SBNR should tell us that we need to listen to their experiences and perspectives. Rather than simply noting demographic shifts, we should be asking what is going on beneath them. We should be trying to understand this fundamental evolution in how people today find meaning, connection, and purpose in their lives. Dismissing SBNRs as merely “unchurched” or “spiritually lazy”, or “unscientific” misses the point and fails to recognise the genuine spiritual struggles they may face. In fact, psychologists and scientists are beginning to recognise the benefit of ‘faith’ in general in healing and trauma.
By listening to SBNRs, we can better understand the changing landscape of belief. We can try to understand how we find our place and belonging in an increasingly pluralistic and individualistic world. Their experiences can also shed some light on the aspects of traditional religion that resonate less with contemporary individuals and the forms of spiritual expression that are gaining traction. If you want to know why people are leaving churches, or why some are quietly drifting from atheism, talk to the SBNRs. They may be closer to the heart of the spiritual shifts of our time than anyone.
The future of Spiritual But Not Religious
The SBNR movement may well signal a continued emergence of spiritual and ethical frameworks that are not bound by traditional religious dogmas. Their focus on personal experience, interconnectedness, and often a deep moral sensibility could represent new ways of understanding our place in the world and our responsibilities to one another and the planet.
While their lack of a centralised organisation may raise concerns about collective action, their shared values and concerns could actually form the basis for new forms of community and engagement in the future. Personal spirituality does not necessarily translate to the hard individualism we see in Western consumer societies.
Final Thoughts
It’s a fascinating and growing phenomenon, there’s no doubt about it. The Google search chart above might look slow and gradual, but twenty years is a blink of an eye in terms religious transformation. Yes, you might say that it seems vague – it does! There are many inconsistencies that warrant further consideration. But to simply dismiss the SBNR identity outright, risks missing the genuine spiritual journeys, motivations, and struggles of a significant and growing portion of the world population. And if you’ve studied 16th-century European history, you’ll know what happens when a dominant religious tradition tries to suppress liberty of conscience. It doesn’t end quietly.
Are you a card-carrying member of a religious institution, a staunch atheist, or somewhere in between? Whatever your place on the spectrum of religion, let’s raise a calm, Sunday morning latte (or whatever your beverage of choice may be) to the messy, complicated, and endlessly fascinating world of belief. Cheers.
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