Wild Churches: What They Are and How They Connect
Picture a small circle of people on damp grass, mugs warming hands, a few children poking at a stick pile, and a short prayer held in the open air. Nothing flashy. Just a bit more space and a sense that worship can happen without a roof.
Wild church gatherings are growing, because many people want faith that feels simpler and more grounded. Some are tired. Some are curious. Some just find it easier to be present outside than inside a building.
Field Guide to Church of the Wild is written by the founders of the Wild Church Network, which has lots of case studies and tips to inspire.
How is a wild church different?
Wild church is still church, just with a different setting and rhythm. People meet in a wood, park, churchyard, or community garden. Then they pray, listen, notice what’s around them, and share time together.
Some groups keep a clear liturgy. Others keep it looser and more reflective. Most hold onto a simple centre: scripture, prayer, and a shared sense of welcome.
It also helps to be clear about what wild church isn’t. It’s not just a picnic with a Bible verse. It’s not just a nature walk with religious branding. It’s also not an anti-building statement, or a protest against ‘normal church’. Many people who come also attend Sunday services, and see wild church as a second doorway.
Common features at wild churches
No two gatherings are identical, but many share a familiar pattern. It tends to feel like a well-held session rather than a long service.
- Welcome circle: names and a warm welcome
- A short Bible story or theme: often told, sometimes acted.
- A few minutes of silence: listening, breathing, noticing w
- Sensory noticing: colour, sound, texture, weather.
- Simple songs: sometimes call-and-response.
- Prayer prompts: short invitations
- Creative response: leaves, clay, mud, drawing, weaving, stones
- Shared food and hot drinks: basic, comforting
- A closing blessing: to fit outdoors
Who leads, where it meets, how often?
A vicar might lead. A lay leader might lead. Sometimes a small team shares the session, with trained volunteers supporting children, newcomers, and anyone who needs a quieter pace.
Because it’s still church, safeguarding still matters. Groups usually follow the same safeguarding policies as their church or denomination.
Locations can be very local: a churchyard with a wilder corner, a bit of woodland with permission, a school field, a nature reserve with agreed access, or a community garden that already has public trust. In towns and cities, parks and green corridors can work well, as long as leaders plan for noise and passers-by.
As for timing, many meet monthly or seasonally. Sunday afternoons are common, because it avoids the Sunday morning pattern. Others meet midweek after school. A wild church usually comes with an honest weather plan, a simple risk assessment, and clarity about what happens if someone gets cold, lost, or overwhelmed.
Some wild churches use seasonal outlines (Advent outdoors, Lent walks, Easter dawn), prayer ideas that suit open spaces, and activity prompts that work with minimal kit. Mentoring can be part of it as well, especially for new leaders who want to start small but don’t want to guess their way through.
Grief can sit differently outdoors too. Trees and seasons don’t rush you. Wind and birdsong can soften a heavy silence. That doesn’t remove pain, but it can make the moment bearable.
How wild churches can deepen faith
The Bible already speaks the language of the outdoors. Seeds, storms, wilderness, birds, water, hunger, shelter, bread, vines. When you’re outside, those images start being familiar things you can touch and notice.
That can deepen faith without needing long talks. A handful of soil can become a prayer about growth. A sudden shower can become a prompt for trust. Even a bare tree can give language for waiting.
Many groups use simple practices: gratitude for what’s good, confession for what needs changing, lament for what hurts, and hope for what might still be healed. Nature doesn’t replace Scripture, but can sit alongside as a quiet echo.
Intergenerational learning is one of the strengths here. Children notice details adults miss. Adults can give words to what children sense. Side by side, faith becomes less like a lesson and more like shared attention.
