American Airlines, my typical air carrier, is doing markedly better than some of its competitors this fall - after a very bumpy early summer. And I am flying again, a lot, this fall. To Chicago, San Francisco, Raleigh, Dallas, Southern Cal. It has begun again, where we left off in spring of 2020 - but in so many ways, not at all where we left off eighteen months ago.
I enjoy flying, even with masks and no refreshments. They offer stuff to eat and drink, but for now, I decline to take off my mask. I enjoy flying because social media goes stone cold - and for two, three or four hours, I can think, take a nap, and even pray. A flight (packed with other people whom I utterly ignore) is one of the best opportunities forgood solitude that I have found.
And from 40 thousand feet in the air, I often ponder how much ministry has changed in a very short period of time. Our 40k square foot buildings were already quite baggy around the hips two years ago, but now they are swallowing congregations whole. For years, we added on and added on like the famed Mrs Winchester in San Jose. Mrs Winchester kept construction crews working continuously from 1884 until 1922 in order to appease the spirits who haunted her house. She was up to 160 rooms when she died.
Playing with the metaphor of a church building as old, outsized clothes, many sizes too big, I recall an old British drinking song passed down untold generations by the men in my family:
Oh me! Oh my! He was the thinnest man.
As thin as the soup in a boarding house,
As thin as a soft shelled clam.
Oh me! Oh my! One day he lost his breath,
And fell through the hole in the seat of his pants,
And choked himself to death.
Yes, my father taught me to belt out those macabre lyrics at the age of four!
But back to the metaphor - this is what oversized buildings are doing to churches as we ever so slowly exit the Pandemic. Our gatherings, already a bit lean two years ago, are cut in half now. In thousands of church houses, we are truly dying inside, choking on the hole in the seat of our pants.
One of the most significant changes in this moment of passage to a new era comes with regard to the relationship between churches and buildings. The real estate we own may offer amazing assets for creative re-investment in new paradigms. But this is often only so if we agree to sell or to tear down and rebuild multi-use space. Left as they are - most church buildings are no longer assets - they are distracting liabilities, stealing our focus from the work of the gospel.
Helping churches (1) repurpose their space, (2) trade down to something smaller or (3) give up home ownership all together - this is critical work in church development in the 2020s! In many cases, the longer a church waist to do something, the more of their assets and life energy the building will consume - until it is too late. But to let go of the building, we first have to discover a sense of faith community identity and purpose that extends beyond occupying the corner of Pine and Walnut and holding court on Sundays at 11.
We at Epicenter are having great conversations with churches this fall, often about facilities. In one case I speculated that there may be additional construction on the near horizon for a Presbyterian congregation. But in most places, the challenge is shrinking the space to fit and to bless the ministry. The people are not all returning at 11 on Sunday. Some of them are simply gone. Others will choose on certain weeks to connect by digital means. Still others will choose more intimate gatherings, scattered all across the week’s calendar options.
The amount of space that a church needs just got whacked in half in the last two years. What a different moment from the time (within my memory) when we were telling every new church that they needed twenty acres!
Blessings to each of you as you equip the people of God for this distinctive moment!
Paul Nixon, The Epicenter Group
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