SPENDING ON CHURCH BUILDINGS
Our session had a heated and fascinating discussion last night, on the topic of spending money to do an architectural assessment of our physical space, in conjunction with our strategic planning for the future of our congregation. It was fascinating to me because of the quality and passion behind the arguments on both sides.
In one camp was a group of people who was hesitant to spend a lot of money for architectural professionals to make recommendations, knowing that we would then have to spend even more money to follow through on those recommendations and turn them into plans, designs, and finally construction. In another camp was a group of people who felt that moving in this direction was crucial to the future of our congregation: if we don't improve our decaying physical plant, we run the risk of safety hazards, losing congregants who don't wish to bring their children to Sunday School classrooms in dark basements, and being handicapped in our ability to attract a senior pastor to our street corner.
Where was I in the fray? I believe God does not dwell in structures built by human hands. And I am leery of making it a necessity to have a shiny new building in order to attract worshippers and ministers. On the other hand, I understand (my mother being an architect) that what architects do is maximize a building's ability to serve the people that use it. And I want to be among a leadership team that exercises the kind of long-term perspective that says, "For the sake of our church's next fifty years, we're going to be the ones that sign off on having a plan to do something about our physical plant; rather than patching things up reactively, we want to be proactive in doing what will be good for this church building for now until 2053."
As a homeowner, I try to remember that my house is not my god, but that God is my God and that, having provided us with our house, we ought to be good stewards of it. And an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Even it means expensive maintenance, plans, and construction. Furthermore, I realize that while my house is the biggest asset on my balance sheet, the people that live inside it are worth far more. Nevertheless, there are ways we can improve our home to serve those residents, without giving in to the idolatry of "keeping up with the Joneses" or paying for things that are wasteful. Therefore, I side with those who seek to move forward on the architectural plans, because I think we ought to treat our church home the same way.
Our session had a heated and fascinating discussion last night, on the topic of spending money to do an architectural assessment of our physical space, in conjunction with our strategic planning for the future of our congregation. It was fascinating to me because of the quality and passion behind the arguments on both sides.
In one camp was a group of people who was hesitant to spend a lot of money for architectural professionals to make recommendations, knowing that we would then have to spend even more money to follow through on those recommendations and turn them into plans, designs, and finally construction. In another camp was a group of people who felt that moving in this direction was crucial to the future of our congregation: if we don't improve our decaying physical plant, we run the risk of safety hazards, losing congregants who don't wish to bring their children to Sunday School classrooms in dark basements, and being handicapped in our ability to attract a senior pastor to our street corner.
Where was I in the fray? I believe God does not dwell in structures built by human hands. And I am leery of making it a necessity to have a shiny new building in order to attract worshippers and ministers. On the other hand, I understand (my mother being an architect) that what architects do is maximize a building's ability to serve the people that use it. And I want to be among a leadership team that exercises the kind of long-term perspective that says, "For the sake of our church's next fifty years, we're going to be the ones that sign off on having a plan to do something about our physical plant; rather than patching things up reactively, we want to be proactive in doing what will be good for this church building for now until 2053."
As a homeowner, I try to remember that my house is not my god, but that God is my God and that, having provided us with our house, we ought to be good stewards of it. And an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Even it means expensive maintenance, plans, and construction. Furthermore, I realize that while my house is the biggest asset on my balance sheet, the people that live inside it are worth far more. Nevertheless, there are ways we can improve our home to serve those residents, without giving in to the idolatry of "keeping up with the Joneses" or paying for things that are wasteful. Therefore, I side with those who seek to move forward on the architectural plans, because I think we ought to treat our church home the same way.
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