Why does it matter if a Christian congregation gathers in a coffee shop or a cathedral? A home or a chapel? Does it matter? I believe it does. I am of course not referring to our brothers and sisters in Asia or various persecuted parts of the world where they are forced to gather “underground” in secret. I am speaking of a free land where Christians can build churches and worship openly together.
Good men have pointed out the dumbing down of modern architecture that saps the beauty and life out of men. You can build state of the art architecture today with the snap of a finger, but it looks like a prison compared to the buildings, particularly across Europe, that took our forbears centuries to build, but also lasted centuries and filled the world with beauty and significance. The important point in noting this is that the architecture is merely a reflection of the all around, moral, and religious decline in modernity. The buildings we build are the fruit of what’s in the soul of man. Kinda like what Doug Wilson says, “Our theology comes out of our finger tips.”
This sickness has not unaffected the church and her buildings. Many would like to argue that the sickness indeed began with the church and we passed it on to the world. Nevertheless, the sickness is evident in that so many churches today look like a warehouse, a strip mall, or just some metal building. I know there can be many practical reasons for why churches have the buildings they have. And it is true that a church is no less a church simply because of where they meet. I’m just dreaming out loud here. I want to raise sons who can build cathedrals again, make the world beautiful again, and think long term again. Whether or not they actually build cathedrals is beside the point – I want them to be the type of men that do. And if there are enough of those type of men in the world again, maybe we’d actually see cathedrals again.
So why do our church buildings matter? Because, in terms of society at large, our buildings are a reflection of what’s in our souls. But also, our church buildings matter because the physical matters. This earth matters. What we leave for our great great grandkids matters. No, Christian warfare is not a physical war, we wrestle not against flesh and blood. But the physical is often a good indicator of how the war is going. Just like our physical bodies can be visibly affected by non physical things, such as lack of sleep, stress, worry, etc. The bags under our eyes tell the story of the night before. This is the idea. A land with Christian church buildings in every town square is at a different point in the war than a land with mosques. And the way that those church buildings look can often tell us how they are doing (not dogmatically of course).
A beautiful Christian piece of architecture is a visible reminder to the world that this is God’s world, his land, his history, and this church is his outpost where he meets every week with his people. It is a visible conviction of sin to the world and a reminder of the divine. So I would say it is a war maneuver to build great church buildings, or really it’s a declaration of victory – ground gained – openly claiming the territory for Christ.
Christ is Lord out in the open.
This means that the enemy would have to physically demolish our buildings and architecture – which is costly – and is one of the later stages of persecution – in other words, demolishing church buildings is not the first thing the world does to persecute Christians. Just like building them is not the first move for the Christians. Again I say, we don’t fight the war by building buildings. We fight by gospel proclamation, baptizing, and discipling the heathen. But when the heathen lands become Christian lands, what are they to do? Keep meeting in secret? No, come out and worship in the light, build godly Christian culture, which architecture is an important part and fruit of. Let all the tourists now this Christ’s land, and don’t let the residents forget it. All the senses belong to Christ, all of them are to be used for him – taste, touch, smell, sight, sound. The architecture touches on quite a few of those.
One of the benefits of building big beautiful theological edifices that last is that they can remain even if the Christians don’t, in a particular time and place. In my city, I often drive by beautiful old church buildings that have been kept in pristine condition, except for the fact that they are soiled with rainbow flags and the like. I pray that God would either remove the apostates, redeem the apostates, or replace them with faithful Christians to occupy such beautiful buildings. You see, even if the Word and doctrine has long left beautiful church buildings and has been replaced with apostates and rainbow flags, the architecture still speaks and cries out as a witness against the rebellion. All the Christians who stood on those church grounds throughout the years stand as witnesses against the apostasy. All the blood, sweat, and tears, that laid the foundation and built the walls, brick by brick, speak against them. The faithful Christians may be long gone, but the bricks aren’t. They remember the hands that built them. They remember the faithful preaching. The residue of the Word remains on them. Even quite literally the building itself may – if it is filled with theological symbolism in its design structure, artwork, skilled craftsmanship, and beauty – testify that what they are now doing there is not beautiful, but ugly and unfit for such a building set apart for the things of God. Strongholds have a way of holding strong.
There is much more that could be said, and others have said it better. Jumbled and brief though they may be, these are my thoughts. Lets build.
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