This week, construction crews finished destroying a church building in my neighborhood. I drove past last weekend to mourn one final time. The white columns and colonial steeple still stood. But the sanctuary, offices, classrooms, and fellowship hall had already been chewed into dust by excavators.
For me, it was the end of a dream. I lived for five years on Red Mountain, just south of Birmingham, Alabama, overlooking Shades Valley. This church’s steeple jutted through the canopy of pine trees that separated us. From my deck and the southern windows in my son’s room, my kitchen, and my office, I looked down on the steeple and prayed nearly every day that a faithful, biblical, gospel-preaching church would open in the building.
I couldn’t quite believe the dream had died until I saw for myself the facade standing sentinel over piles of rubble.
Why Many Don’t Mourn
I might be alone in my mourning, however. News reports billed the church’s end as a win-win. The PC(USA) congregation couldn’t afford upkeep and maintenance on the building they could no longer fill. They merged with another PC(USA) congregation down the highway, endowed that church with the sale proceeds, and still gave away $1 million to other ministries.
I looked down on the steeple and prayed nearly every day that a faithful, biblical, gospel-preaching church would open in the building.
The city was more than happy to remove a nonprofit ministry from some of the most valuable real estate in the Southeastern United States. Fourteen lots will sell for more than $1.25 million each, and custom homes will sell for at least $2 million. At those prices, the school district won’t have to worry about adding many kids at the elementary school down the road. The new residents will pay a 9 percent sales tax as they buy groceries and eat meals at upscale restaurants across the street. It’s a great deal for everyone involved.
Perhaps my mourning is misplaced, because there’s no shortage of churches in the immediate vicinity. Drive for less than 10 minutes and you’ll find a thriving PCA congregation. It’s only five minutes on the same road to the Anglican church. The Baptists are booming a little further down. Within that 10-minute radius, three nondenominational megachurches can be found. One of them is among the largest churches in the U.S. All told, I know up to 10 churches within 10 minutes that need more worship space and parking. So it’s not like anyone who would have attended this demolished church will struggle to find options.
Why I Mourn
So why do I mourn the loss of this one church building? Two reasons.
First, we don’t have enough church buildings in my community. We might live amid the Great Dechurching, but the effects aren’t evenly distributed across the United States. You’ll find little evidence of church decline in my neighborhood. You’ll see churches that attract large families as well as single women. You’ll see churches that celebrate more baptisms than funerals. If you want choirs or worship bands, youth ministries or live streaming for shut-ins, you have options in my neighborhood. Nearby Samford University helps fuel this church growth.
My own nondenominational church can’t find a building big enough to accommodate the hundreds of college students who attend. We meet in a building acquired from a former Southern Baptist congregation. Despite years of praying and searching, of saving and planning, we can’t secure enough space. Losing such a beautiful church building, when so many churches need more space and can afford to pay for it, feels like a loss for God’s kingdom.
Second, I’m reminded our churches can never afford to lose the gospel. I don’t know what was preached and taught in this church that closed. I only know they belonged to a denomination that has revised its theology in recent decades, especially related to sexuality. Even as that denomination declined from 3.1 million members in 1984 and 1.1 million members in 2022, many leaders resisted calls to restore confessional integrity and biblical authority.
I have friends still faithfully serving in this denomination, in my city, in historic buildings. Their steady witness inspires me. I wish I could guarantee that their testimony to the transforming power of the historic, orthodox gospel will keep their doors open. But I can’t. No one can. Deferred maintenance stalks plenty of biblical churches that stand against Western culture’s liberalizing trends.
Warning for All Churches
While I can’t guarantee biblical congregations will stay open, I can nearly guarantee revisionist congregations will close sooner or later. Bigger churches with bigger buildings in my neighborhood may face the same decision about closing. They don’t preach a gospel that conforms to historic confessions or confronts Western culture. Staying up to date may be beneficial in certain businesses, but it’s nearly certain to end in death for churches today. Though churches should clearly communicate to our age, they must resist every temptation to adjust their theology to suit our age.
Staying up to date may be beneficial in certain businesses, but it’s nearly certain to end in death for churches today.
Two generations ago, adjusting is what many conservative churches did in my city. Many supported segregation. They conformed to the age instead of preaching the timeless gospel. One prominent church ended up as a pile of rubble, paved over to become a parking lot.
The gospel creates tension in every age, in every culture. Jesus will not be domesticated. We must never go back on his Word. Because only in his Word do we find power to live for God, forever. When churches forsake the Word, they have no spiritual power to fuel genuine discipleship. And in a culture that offers infinite distractions from church, nothing but spiritual power will suffice to compel attendance and service.
If people know they can afford to miss church, they will. They don’t need churches to tell them to be good people and do nice things for others. Thankfully, they hear that message in other venues. They need the message they’ll only hear in a Bible-believing church: that Jesus, the only Son of God, sacrificed himself on the cross and rose from the dead for the forgiveness of sins and life everlasting.
From my old house on the mountain, I didn’t just see the church steeple. Birmingham Zoo sits at the base of the mountain; I could hear the lions roar. And I thought about that glorious day when all creation will sing the song of the Lamb (Rev. 15:3-4). On that day all the world will rejoice. Praise will not be confined to church buildings.
But for now, we give thanks for these buildings that point us beyond the mountains to the heavens, where our help and hope comes from (Ps. 121:1-2).
