Skip to main content

Church for sale?




Several months ago, I noticed that a small church in a sleepy Western NY town was up for sale. A few weeks ago I noticed that the "For Sale" sign was gone and what had been a tender little white chapel had been flipped.

It had not been made into a residential space or even yet another hair salon (even though one never can underestimate the need for a good salon in a rural community). The quaint little parish building had been refreshed, with new landscaping and the whole bit. The once weary but well loved building was dusted off and spiffed up, and now it was something altogether new.

The church, was now, an antique shop.

Wait.

Hold on.

The CHURCH was now an ANTIQUE SHOP.

This statement concerning the flipped building did more than pop in my brain.

The statement poured out of my mouth and filled my ears.

"The CHURCH is an ANTIQUE SHOP!"

I know this may initially appear to be a simple observation of a real estate transaction. But to me the sale and re-purposed worship space smacked of discomfort.

I imagined that sanctuary, where sermons had been preached - anthems and hymns sung - people married, buried and baptized. How many communion tables had been set and served? How many lives started, were supported and secured in that space.

How can this space that had once been a place of community and faith become a place where old things are sold at a high price?

Antique shops in this particular neck of the woods are usually overpriced and geared for out-of-towners to spend discretionary cash - to collect what they find to be charming, pretty and quaint. This space that was local an common - and sacred - was not to become a place where discarded items find purpose; but at a price.

I'm not against the re-purposing of previously sacred spaces. I'm aware that worship and church life is not on the mainframe of most people's lives. I know that sometimes churches need to be sold and re-purposed as antiques shops.

However, the metaphor of a old church building being sold to be an antique shop to sell old things is not lost on me.

I wonder if we look closely if the old things that people purchase is symptomatic of our need for something that is beyond us- something ancient -something sacred.

It makes me wonder if the antique shop might want to reserve some space - for sanctuary.

Because no matter if you are going antiquing or if you are going to church - what you are searching for us exactly this... SANCTUARY.

At what price have we sacrificed sanctuary?
Where do you find sanctuary?


Image found at: freelancepastor



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

SWB: Claustrophobia and clearings

Mary Lue shared her host post on business and rest for this weeks Sleeping with Bread Examen. Her words resonated with me in the fact that due to a significant staff change at my office, there is more work to be done and my plate is feeling fuller lately. There have been more meetings, and lots of talking and planning. For the most part, I've felt much more connected to people since I've become more involved in this way, but oddly when I'm done for the day or night - I find myself in need of some quiet. Maybe I'm still sorting and planning in the back of my mind, but silence (even my own) is something I find myself being more and more drawn too. It's like the extra noise, both internal and external, makes me feel claustrophobic . A few days after Christmas, I went into a game store with my son and was overwhelmed by all the noise and activity there. The store was tiny but filled with kids and their parents vying for their video game of choice. My head felt hot, my

Sunny and rainy day friends

There are two kinds of friends in the world: Sunny day friends and rainy day friends. This is a statement that my Mom used to remind me of when I was in the midst of drama or conflict with one school friend of another. There are lots of people that we define as friends, but they are really acquaintances. Two men were out hunting in the northern U.S. Suddenly one yelled and the other looked up to see a grizzly charging them. The first started to frantically put on his tennis shoes and his friend anxiously asked, "What are you doing? Don't you know you can't outrun a grizzly bear?" "I don't have to outrun a grizzly. I just have to outrun you!" This story is funny, but it does help define the distinct difference between a rainy day friend and a sunny day friend. The sunny-day-friend is more concerned with watching out for their own health and wellness, than their friends' wellbeing. On the other hand, a rainy day friend is willing to take risks, work fo

What Summer Camp Means to Me...

  I was around six-years-old when I first went to sleep-away summer camp.  At the time I lived in PA and the camp (through my church) was in Ohio. All school year, I attended Sunday School faithfully partially because regular attendance allowed my family scholarships to help with the cost of Summer Camp. Over the school year, I attended most Sunday's and by the end of the year, my little coupon book was full of stamps - providing me with a scholarship to attend a camp session. I provide this background on how I first got to go to camp, because it is an essential part of explaining what Summer Camp meant (and means) to me.   Going away to Summer Camp gave me a whole new experience of community. The whole process of going to and attending was the first times I experienced, "it takes a village", personally. From the Sunday School Teachers who drove a sedan full of kids to Ohio, to the counselors and staff who supported new campers: through the first 48 hours of homesickness