YMJen

Adam McLane recently posted this interesting blog. In it, he essentially poses the question, would churches better reach their communities without church buildings?

Since reading this blog, I’ve been contemplating this idea.

For five years I worked at a church that rented space from two other churches instead of owning its own building. During this time, I truly began to believe that churches were better off without the added expense that comes from owning their own buildings. In fact, during this time, I vividly remember thinking “I hope that I’m never part of a church that’s doing a capital campaign again. What a waste!”

Fast forward to last fall when I changed jobs and found myself at a church immersed in a capital campaign. Mind you, this isn’t what it’s called in my context. Instead, it’s called the ministry growth campaign. The underlying idea behind this campaign is that if we can raise enough money to pay off what’s left of the church’s mortgage, we’ll then be able to use the freed up money to better finance the existing ministries of the church, a strategy that I actually believe has merit.

Why?

Not because of the additional money that will hopefully be available for our youth ministry but instead because in the last year, I’ve come to believe that owning a church building can actually be a resource that, when well-used, allows a church to better reach its community.

For example, my church building is in an excellent location, just off the expressway and a major thoroughfare in our suburb. It’s also located directly across the street from a large refugee community. Our church’s location is recognizable and well-known, especially because our building is always in use.

Throughout the week, our church doesn’t just provide offices for our staff and meeting places for our church’s ministry. Instead, our building houses a preschool and an adult daycare center. It also provides offices for DuPage United, a community advocacy group. Whenever there is an election, it serves as a polling place for the community. Several times a year, we open our doors for flu clinics and blood drives. In the evenings, besides our youth ministry and other church ministries, you can also find community concerts, regular meetings of Teen Parent Connection – a group that ministers to teenage parents, One Stitch at a Time – a group that teaches refugees how to sew, and weekly ESL and computer classes for the nearby refugee community.

Rarely is our church building empty. Instead, it’s an active place that provides a safe haven for both Christians and non-Christians. It provides our community with a resource and in so doing, it demonstrates our church’s value of Christian hospitality.

In his book, “Jesus Wants to Save Christians,” Rob Bell poses the question, “If our church was taken away – from our city, our neighborhood, our region – who would protest?”

I truly believe our community would. Would yours?

Two weeks ago, our church celebrated Quilt Sunday, which is quickly becoming one of my favorite Sundays of the year.

On Quilt Sunday, every pew is draped with several quilts – each handmade as a labor of love by six little old ladies in our congregation. This year, some 240 quilts filled our sanctuary.

These little old ladies meet weekly in our church’s sewing room, just a few doors down from my office. Week after week, I pass them without thinking much of it. I never think about the fact that these women are so old that I would think standing over a quilting table or sitting hunched over a sewing machine would be uncomfortable. I never think about the thickness of their glasses or the arthritis threatening to cripple their hands.

But week after week, I see these little old ladies faithfully sewing their quilts. Together, they use their gifted hands to make a quilt every day and a half.

The quilts they’re making aren’t like the ones that Doug and I own. We have one quilt that Doug’s Grandma started making for him and several of her friends finished after her death. We have another made my Great Grandma Johnson. We have a third that’s a t-shirt quilt made by my aunt. Each are treasured family heirlooms that are hung or stored away for safe keeping.

Not so with the ones the little old ladies are making at my church.

Their precious works of art won’t be handed down as family heirlooms to their grandkids. Instead, they’ll be sent around the world by Lutheran World Relief and given to those who are hungry, cold, and without shelter.

It’s honestly hard for me to fathom how these little old ladies can invest so much time making something that will likely never even see a bed, but that instead will be used to cover people sleeping in the dirt; That will be used to protect against the rain; That will likely never be washed.

While I willingly give my tattered rags away, these women give something homemade and beautiful to people who are the least among us.

To me, this is incomprehensible. It’s stunning. It’s grace that reeks of Jesus.

The Greatest Generation is a term coined by journalist Tom Brokaw to describe the generation of Americans who grew up during the deprivation of the Great Depression, and then went on to fight in World War II, as well as those whose productivity within the war’s home front made a decisive material contribution to the war effort.

I am fortunate that this is the generation my grandparents were a part of.

In particular, my Grandpa Johnson was a WWII Veteran. Though I seldom heard him talk about his war experiences, I know that they deeply impacted him. I remember one visit with him, shortly after the movie, Schindler’s List, came out. My mom asked him if he was planning on seeing the movie. My Grandpa responded, “Why would I see the movie? I saw it in real life and have no desire to see it again.”

My Great Uncle Bill is also a WWII Veteran. For him, being a veteran is part of his identity; Something that he takes pride in and finds honor in (as he should.) Because of Uncle Bill, I grew up hearing stories from WWII and now appreciate the sacrifices of his generation.

Unfortunately, few of today’s youth have had similar experiences because for the most part, their grandparents are Baby Boomers, a generation removed from the Greatest Generation. Few personally know people from the Greatest Generation and even fewer have actually heard war stories told by this generation.

Following a profound experience with some of my youth at the World War II Museum in New Orleans this summer as part of the ELCA’s Youth Gathering, this fall, I knew that I wanted to talk more about the idea of Just War with my youth and connect them with a generation that understands the cost of war.

To do that, last week, I invited a member of our church, Betty, to come speak to our youth. Betty is a military veteran who served our country as a navy nurse from 1943 – 1946. As she shared her experiences, I was amazed at the respect that our youth gave her, and at the way they sat riveted, listening intently to this 89 year old’s stories.

At one point, one of our adult leaders asked Betty, “Was the war worth the cost?”

Betty then proceeded to talk about the personal cost of war, telling our youth about a young boy who arrived in her ward, injured from the Pacific. She said that his eye was dangling out of its socket, in his hand, and that despite their best efforts, it could not be saved. That’s the cost of war. To a generation that has grown up during a time of war and yet has had to bare little of that cost, this was a profound statement.

Betty also talked about how her generation willingly sacrificed for their country but questioned whether or not if a draft began today, our youth would still respond with a valor similar to that of her generation.

Betty’s comments led to a fascinating discussion amongst our youth about just war. Using the just war principles established by St. Augustine in the 400s, we wrestled with whether or not the wars we are currently fighting are just; with how church’s should respond to unjust wars; and with how we, individually and collectively, can support and honor the troops who sacrifice so much for us. We concluded our discussion by wrestling with what it means to be a carrier of the Gospel of the Peace (Ephesians 6:15) and peacemakers (Matthew 5:9) during a time of war.

The discussion was rich, challenging, and thought-provoking – largely because of Betty’s presence and her willingness to share her story and thoughts.

I pray that in the time we are still blessed to have people from Betty’s generation with us that we will take the time to listen to their stories, to learn from them, and to follow in their footsteps and be willing to sacrifice for others and for the pursuit of peace.