I was glad when they said to me, “let us go unto the hose of the Lord.”
Psalm 122:1
Depending on which route I choose to take on a given day, my commute from home into Emmanuel sometimes takes me past the former and present locations of Bethel Lutheran Church in Shoreline. As I drive East on NE 175th I can see the perimeter of Bethel’s former location outlined by construction fencing. The building which once housed the Bethel congregation is being repurposed by a new family of faith, the Buddha Jewel Monastery. Then as I continue my drive up 175th and turn left on 15th Ave NE, I pass Bethel’s new home consisting of two storefronts in a retail corridor.
I do not know the specifics of Bethel’s story and I have no need to make judgements about that community’s choice. Clearly, they have found a sustainable way to continue to be a worshipping community and light to their neighborhood. They are like so many other congregations which have made a similar choice. It is a way forward that perhaps comes in the wake of changing demographics and declining numbers. Perhaps it was a choice that is not unlike what a couple does when they sell their home and downsize their lives by moving into a condo or retirement community. It is time to allow someone younger or something new, to occupy the space that defined so much of one’s life. The increasingly difficult demands of maintaining a property begin to weigh heavy, and the best path to sustaining life together is divestment and reinvestment resulting in relocation.
If this is Bethel’s story, it is not unique. Last year in this space, at about this time, I mentioned the common sight of signs in front of churches announcing an impending closure or relocation. Also at least once a month I receive mail that tells me that many churches are considering similar moves. This mail comes in the form of a letter from a developer or realtor who is wanting us to be aware of how they are ready and willing to help us “secure our future” or “fund our ministry.” I usually read these kind offers with a smirk on my face and they start to drift toward my recycling bin as I am midway through the second sentence.
At this point their offers seem irrelevant to me. From where I sit, I look at Emmanuel and see a spiritually alive and financially healthy congregation. We are meeting our financial obligations, saving money for those inevitable projects that a property like ours can expect, and able to share our resources with others who are in need. We have, even in the midst of the pandemic, maintained the same levels of Sunday worship attendance and beyond that welcomed new people into our fellowship. So for the present at least, divestment, reinvestment and relocation do not present themselves as a necessary means of securing our future.
Yet with this pandemic we have learned some things about our building and our grounds that we might not have acknowledged apart from the experience over the last 10 months. First, we have learned that we can come together, worship together, stay together, serve together and grow together as a congregation even if we can’t meet together in our building. And this has gotten me looking at our three acres and building in a new way. They are no longer synonymous with the word “Church.” They aren’t the church, they house the church. And what a house! They are a privilege to possess. They are a fountain of riches that we probably appreciate in a new way. They are a treasure that God has given us to share with our neighborhood. And surveying these grounds leads me into an experience of deep gratitude. I find myself regularly thanking God for the labor and dedication of all who have contributed to the work of securing this place that is the home of Emmanuel Presbyterian Church. And my longings to once again come together for worship in this place grow more intense every day.
My “soul longs, indeed faints for the courts of the Lord.” Absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder. It also drives home the point of how rich we are: What a valuable resource we possess! And this in turn makes me reflect on how we go about expressing gratitude for this resource. I ask that you join me in this reflection and pray with me a prayer of thanksgiving to God.
Our congregational “tag line” (Hope Refuge Service) is once again providing the framework for my January sermons. Because we started worshipping together in January of 1963 and were chartered in January of 1964, I try to set this month aside as a time to think about what it means to live into our joint calling as a congregation. This year, after more than ten months of not meeting together in our building, it seemed appropriate to thank God for our grounds and our building and together ask how God is calling us to treasure and steward this resource. So please join me in responding to the Psalmist’s call to gladness as we ponder the gift of going to the house of the Lord.
David Rohrer
01/07/2021