Gen Z Longs for Home

A 2023 Harris Poll revealed something striking. Across all generations, most people agree that young people are too dependent on technology. But Gen Zers are most likely to wish they could return to a world before everyone was plugged in. In other words, the first fully digital generation longs for an analog world. 

We can see this not only in the data but in cultural trends. Take what I’ve called “the Stranger Things effect.” When Stranger Things first aired in 2016, the oldest members of Gen Z were in high school and college. Almost overnight, a familiar aesthetic wave hit: Cassette players, bright-colored windbreakers, oversized pullovers, and retro hats all made a comeback. The analog economy surged; vinyl records soared, tabletop board games reemerged, and vintage thrift shops became even more popular. A generation that had never lived in the 1980s’ or ’90s suddenly longed for it.

The New York Times recently highlighted this phenomenon in an essay titled “Why Gen Z Is Resurrecting the 1990s.” Dr. Clay Routledge, a social psychologist who has written extensively on nostalgia, explained that nostalgic memory provides “comfort, guidance and inspiration.” Though it looks backward, it is, he notes, “a future-oriented endeavor.” In other words, nostalgia isn’t simply about escaping into the past—it’s about using the past as a compass for navigating an uncertain future.

But this longing isn’t just about temporal life. Alongside Gen Z’s retro revival is another cultural shift: a growing interest in ancient forms of faith. Recent data suggests that Gen Z now leads in church attendance across generations. Even more striking, after the pandemic, Orthodox, Protestant, and Catholic churches reported growth among young adults. Many of these churches emphasize tradition, sacrament, and rootedness; qualities that stand in stark contrast to a culture defined by constant flux.

This longing for rootedness is not new. In his book Nostalgia, Anthony Esolen argues that nostalgia is not mere sentimentality but a deep, existential longing for a home. He frames nostalgia as a longing for our telos—for ultimate union with God. From this perspective, nostalgia isn’t just a memory of the past. It’s a hunger for permanence, resonance, order, and belonging that only God can ultimately fulfill.

Gen Z is the first generation to grow up fully immersed not only in digital technology but also in progressive ideology. By its very nature, progressivism has no fixed home. It functions like a nomadic tribe. Its commitment is to perpetual motion, to “progress” itself, even if the destination is undefined. When one cause, claim, or framework no longer satisfies, it quickly shifts to another. It can adapt and reshape itself endlessly, but it cannot provide lasting rootedness, permanence, or a shared vision of “home.”

From the earliest stages of their education, entertainment, and social life, Gen Zers have been surrounded by narratives of progress untethered from the past and convinced of a here-and-now utopia that only the latest social theory can accomplish. Unlike earlier generations, they have never known a cultural home other than this nomadic outlook.

This is precisely where the church can step in with hope and confidence. Unlike progressivism, the Christian faith is not nomadic. It is pilgrim-like, yes, but the Christian life is oriented toward a permanent destination: the eternal City of God. As Augustine helpfully shows, the City of God and the City of Man are at odds, and we must choose the former. Gen Z is finding that the City of Man is incapable of providing the solid foundation they need. The City of God offers a narrative not of perpetual wandering, but of homecoming and true belonging in our God giving calling as his sons and daughters.

This explains why many young people are drawn not just to church in general but to churches that emphasize tradition, rooted practices, and a sense of permanence. The liturgies of Orthodox, Catholic, and traditional Protestant churches provide a rhythm and stability that feels like home in a culture of constant motion. Weekly worship, sacraments, creeds, and historic prayers become a kind of spiritual rootedness, a shelter against the nomadic winds of progressivism. 

Progressivism may promise liberation through perpetual movement, but it cannot provide a home. Traditional Christian doctrine can. In Christ, the restless can find rest, the homeless can find home, and the nostalgic can find not just echoes of the past but a secure and eternal future. The past roots us and enables us to see clearly the future: the City of God.