We’ve all heard it said until our ears bleed that ‘church is not the building.’ Great. Sure. Fine. But if we truly believe that then why does the rest of the world think that it is? We’re clearly not getting the message out there. So, do we need a new PR approach, or could it just be perhaps, that we still place too much emphasis on our buildings?

The big problem, as with most entrenched ideologies, is history. The historic weight of our practices, and the long stories that precedes our entrance to the stage, bear greater influence over our attitudes than we might think.

Moving from victim to victor

Throughout the entire Christendom era, the Church has asserted itself onto the landscape by imposing centralised places of worship. Right at the beginning of this time, Christian-converted Roman Emperor Constantine not only enabled Christians to worship publicly, but he also gave them resources to do so. He returned property that was confiscated during Diocletian persecution, he granted massive tax exemptions to Christians, and he built Christian basilicas throughout the Empire. These were often financed by pillaging pagan temples.

For any victim to suddenly be inundated with wealth and resources, especially when these are taken from their oppressors, there is going to be some significant and sudden personality changes as a result. The Church was no exception, and – in many cases if not almost entirely throughout Europe – for a time, very much enjoyed its special legal protections and favouritism.

Over time then (although, not that much really), ‘Church’ became synonymous with buildings rather than the gathered body of believers. There was an implicit idea that to meet with God meant you must go to church, and to be a Christian, therefore, was to simply be a regular church attendee. In fact, for most European Christians, this assumption has been the case for the vast majority of their institutional history.

That’s not an easy character arc to shake off.

Follow the money

The infamous link between church attendance and faith is also evident in Britain specifically. One place we can see this is in the amount of money tied up in the inherited church’s resources. The Church of England is one of the wealthiest landholders in the UK, with a £2 billion property portfolio and 100,000 acres of which makes up a significant portion of their £6.7 billion in assets. The amassing of this wealth can be traced back to early Christendom, which appropriated the Jewish practice of giving alms for the remission of sins. As Peter Brown said ‘even the most humble members of the Christian community were involved in this perpetual mobilisation of wealth.* This ensured a continual flow of wealth to the church, which – although diminishing quickly – continues to this day. The cultural conception that “church just wants our money” comes from a quantitative reality; one that is arguably an easier position to demonstrate than “church serves the poor.”

Throughout the Middle Ages there was a stark contrast between the wealth within and the poverty outside these imperialistic church buildings, and even today the steps of Cathedrals, especially in larger European cities, are still peppered with the poor. In 2015, Housing Justice lobbied the Church of England to sell its underused properties to respond to the housing crisis, issuing a report stating, ‘The Church cannot speak out on this or any other issue without putting its own house in order’. The legacy here is that church attendance was so tied up with what was considered ‘faith’ that most resources were channelled into the buildings rather than mission and serving the poor.

Again, this is not an easy identity to just shake off.

Is it a building, or a momument?

Church buildings today rarely connect with those outside and often serve as a monument to an apparently dying religion. In 2015 the Church of England reported 1926 closed buildings, making the God who resides inside seem irrelevant, inanimate and diminishing. They are often crumbling structures, which are locked for all but an hour a week, surrounded by smaller memorials to the deceased.

Inside, older British churches have uncomfortable, formal and awkward interiors that do not exist in any other public building save perhaps a courtroom, theatre, or classroom – each designed to give credence to just one voice at a time.

Problems increase when examining the symbols used throughout the older buildings, many of which is in memory of someone other than Jesus, including the often-imposing wall of military paraphernalia. The cross is sometimes absent, replaced with coded monograms such as IHS or XP. The absence of the cross uncovers darker problems as some cultures it represents conquest not self-sacrifice. These buildings and their symbols easily alienate society from the gospel message.

As much as the historian, artist, and contemplative-practitioner in me loves old church buildings, from a purely missional and service point of view they – when not utilized well – create a plethora of problems for the relationship between church and society today. They misrepresent gospel values, exhibit irrelevancy, disable participation, and are a testimony to imperialistic exclusivism.

Even if they ever were at the height of relevancy, the aesthetically beautiful and imposingly grand structures spoke to only parts of God’s character and allowed for very limited expressions of worship. Although newer church buildings are less of an issue, they are still often built with the same values, and may therefore still trigger the same responses in society.

Turning monuments back into movements

Addressing irrelevant and imperialistic buildings in a way that rediscovers mission requires church to consider gathering for worship in natural community spaces instead and repurposing older Church buildings as gifts to the community.

Different to the inherited church, many smaller groups are becoming demonstrably more successful within regularly used community spaces (parks, halls, pubs, schools, homes), than traditional church buildings. Familiar community spaces are usually easier to access and understand, they are usually more modular and better equipped for smaller community gatherings, and they don’t carry any stigmas left behind by Christendom. This reorientates church around people’s lives, making faith a natural and relevant part of their world. The best thing about this, however, is it leaves older church buildings available for other purposes – and to be a gift for the community.

Church buildings can be repurposed to become safer, more recognisable community spaces. Often large, central, and visible, churches can work well as cafes, art galleries and performance areas. Buildings can be a generous gift to an economically struggling society when the primary emphasis is taken off formalised worship and onto relationship building. Moving away from church buildings for expressions of church represents a go rather than come ethic, and repurposing buildings redeems the idea of a Christian from simply being a ‘church attendee.’

Moving church into natural community spaces while repurposing buildings, as a gift to the community should be a healthy way of responding to the imposition of irrelevant buildings left behind by Christendom. This again reconfigures church as a movement rather than an institution, with a clear, more consistent message delivered in accessible spaces.

Photo by Stefan Kunze on Unsplash

* Brown, P. (2013) The rise of Western Christendom: triumph and diversity, A.D. 200-1000. Tenth Anniversary Revised Edition Hoboken, N.J.; Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell; John Wiley [distributor]. (The making of Europe), p.69