Church Architecture I: Why Christian Houses of Worship Aren't

When we think of the church, we don’t generally think of the people that meet there, or the sacraments celebrated there, or the Word preached there – we think of the walls and roof which contain these activities (and many, many others beside). The building is what receives the name: this structure is the First Community Church.

It is therefore not without reason that churches consider their buildings to be central in their identity. After all, even if the church is not to be equated with the building, the building is where each particular church meets together for its churchy business (not to mention its non-churchy business). Hence, the church building is an important subject for consideration. Each building has (using Richard Kieckhefer’s helpful categories[1]) its own symbolic resonance, centering focus, spatial dynamic, and aesthetic impact, all of which are affected by and affect the goings-on within the church. I wish to examine, in light of God’s Word, interpreted through tradition, the purpose of a church building, the consequent use of a church building, and the arrangement of a church building which would be most conducive to that use and purpose.[2]

You may have noticed that I have not used the word “worship” yet. It is very popular to use this term in conjunction with a church building. After all, church buildings fall broadly under the category of “house of worship,” along with synagogues, mosques, and temples. Evangelical churches often refer to their main halls as “worship centers,” where one can hear “worship choruses” led by a “worship leader.” In the order of service, the singing might be referred to as “worship.” When leaving church, one might hear a stray comment: “Wow, worship was great today.” So then, if what goes on inside a church building is worship, why not say so?

It is because I mean first to disabuse my readers of the notion that what happens in church is “worship.” Worship is far too important and far too broad to be restricted to a couple hours on Sunday, which I believe happens when one uses the term “worship” as referenced above. When we refer to one specific time or place as “worship,” then we subconsciously and unwittingly induce a mindset that the rest of our week is not a time for worship, and that outside the church building there is no place for worship. What happens at church is only one aspect or component of Christian worship, and therefore deserves a special name beyond, simply, “worship.” To refer to a particular as a universal is to neglect the other particulars.

In this opinion I have been strongly influenced by English evangelical Simon Pedley. He has made explicit the fact that worship happens everywhere, not just in church. In a short 2004 article, he writes:

I used to think that ‘worship’ described Christian meetings, particularly times of singing. But verses like Romans 12:1 and Hebrews 12:28 show us that the appropriate response to God's mercy is to give every moment of our lives to God in grateful worship. The Bible calls me to worship at home, at work, on the tube, in the pub – and, presumably, as I meet with God's church and sing his praises. Vaughan Roberts[3] quotes a friend: ‘To say “I'm going to church to worship” is about as silly as saying “I'm off to bed to breathe for a while.”’

What is worship, after all? Is a “service of worship” an hour on Sunday morning? Not according to Paul the Apostle, who writes in Romans 12:1, “Therefore I urge you, brethren of God, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship.” Service of worship is the lifelong, all-encompassing, interdisciplinary duty of Christians done out of gratitude to and by the grace of God. Worship in the scriptures, especially since Christ, is always referred to in this way, and never in the compartmentalized style of our present age.

This is not to say that Christians who refer to “worship” in this defective way are do not intend to worship Christ in their lives away from church. Words, however, are powerful and can form our perceptions. It is essential that we describe worship properly. Worship in a Christian’s life happens everywhere, not just at church. Indeed, a church service is a time when the people of God worship him together through preaching and sacrament, but to describe that (or the musical segment of a service) as “worship” marginalizes not only other aspects of church life but the other six days of a believer’s worship life.

One of the reasons that we have come to associate worship with the church building is a common sacerdotalism associated with Old Testament temple worship, as well as Roman Catholicism, high-church Anglicanism and Eastern Orthodoxy. This misconception is easy to notice: how many Protestant churches have the words tabernacle or temple in their names? How many Protestant ministers are called “priests?” How many Protestant communion tables are referred to as “altars?” All too many.

Pre-Christ temple worship involved a high priest in distinguished vestments making sacrifices on behalf of the people of God. Only a select few were eligible to enter the innermost courts of the temple, and the high priest had to be especially consecrated, for he was (in a sense) going into the sanctuary to meet God up close and personal. (Sound like any churches you’ve seen lately?) Hebrews 9:1-10 relates the details. But that passage is preceded by this: “When He said, ‘A new covenant,’ He has made the first obsolete. But whatever is becoming obsolete and growing old is ready to disappear.” (Hebrews 8:13) Temple worship, fulfilled and superseded by Christ, ought no longer be a part of our liturgical life. A new order has been inaugurated. Andrew Sandlin’s remarks on the subject are helpful:

Yes, Jesus is the fulfillment of all the Aaronic patterns; and now that He has done so, to return to them in a liturgy seems to me very close to undercutting the finality of His redemptive work (think here of Rome and its sacerdotal priesthood, vestments, typical rites, and so on)…There is no divine localized presence today in the church as there was in the Temple; but, thank God, His presence pervades the earth (Jn. 4:21-24). I do not hold that the Sunday celebration is a ‘worship service’ or a Sabbath observance; the Bible never calls it that or intimates that it is. It is a commemoration and celebration of the resurrection, though of course we do worship when we unite. Jesus does indeed lead us in worship -- all the saints, not just the minister, are His representatives.

We should not think that God does not dwell in his holy temple: he does. But he dwells throughout the earth as well. We do not encounter God only in church; we do not even encounter him in greater measure in church. We are no closer to him in church than we are on Mount Everest. The worship of God is not dependent upon locality, time, or intercessor. Jesus himself announces the end of sacerdotal worship when he tells the Samaritan woman, “Woman, believe Me, an hour is coming when neither in this mountain nor in Jerusalem will you worship the Father…But an hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and in truth; for such people God seeks to be His worshipers. God is spirit, and those who worship Him must worship him in spirit and in truth.” (John 4:21, 23-24)

The church building, then, is not properly referred to as a worship space. Worship is far to important to confine to a short time on Sunday; God is too wonderful to receive compartmentalized adoration and worship from his people.

Now that this large and pervasive smokescreen has been cleared, we can move on to discussing the proper purpose of a church building and further considerations in coming days and weeks.

Cross-posted at The Weekender Blog

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[1] Richard Kieckhefer, Theology in Stone (Oxford, 2004), p. 15

[2] My approach will be primarily in reference to Protestant churches, although I will refer to the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox traditions at times. I realize that Catholics and Orthodox have different conceptions of what a church does than do most Protestants, and I do not presume to lecture them on church architecture from my own evangelical presuppositions.

[3] Rector of St. Ebbe’s Church, Oxford and author of True Worship.

The Jetsons go to Bible College

The campus of Oral Roberts University* in Tulsa, Oklahoma is an icon of religious architecture, but not necessarily in the sense of St. Peter's in Rome or the Mezquita of Cordoba. Today, after work, I drove over and snapped several photographs of the grounds and buildings. Be warned: it is a relic of the Space Age -- the age when architects spaced out, apparently. Founded in 1963 by televangelist and "faith-healer" Oral Roberts, most of its buildings were built in the late 1960s and 1970s, a period which James Lileks refers to as the "brass age of American design." It's a veritable feast of bizarre construction overrife with religious symbolism.

The first building one encounters entering the campus is the Christ Chapel. "It was constructed in a drape-like fashion to symbolize Oral Roberts' tent revivals."

"Its walls represent the Christian's shield of faith, and the pointed arches supporting the structure indicate hands joined in prayer."

Inside, it looks vintage '60s, like the UN General Assembly hall.

Except here, we're told to expect miracles.

Notice the cool ceiling design -- look for this motif later.

"You shall not crucify mankind upon a cross of gold... instead, you shall make them shuffle by it on the stairs."
Next to the chapel is the Howard Auditorium. Its roof structure represents "the wholeness of man." Now, I realize that geodesic domes encompass space highly efficiently. But there's a reason that we don't see many more these days. When efficiency means ugliness, the aesthetic overcomes the pragmatic.

These dormitories each have three wings, symbolizing "the triune nature of both God and man." (Tripartite might be a better word in relation to man, but only if you believe that in the first place.) Notice any familiar patterns?

Are residents supposed to feel like inmates?

These dorm towers look like an Israeli high-rise, which is appropriate since their floor plans are meant to suggest the Star of David.

This dorm, of fairly recent construction, indicates that ORU is going for more of a Hampton Inn aesthetic. But do not fear: its three floors still symbolize the "triune nature of both God and man."

These two buildings back to back, the John D. Messick Learning Resource Center and the Marajen Chinigo Graduate Center, comprise the academic center of campus. I suppose since wisdom is meant to reside here, that explains why the colonnade is meant to evoke Solomon's Temple. That and the gold.

This eternal flame sits in the center of a triangular fountain which pours into a larger triangular fountain, symbolizing the triune nature of God pouring itself into the triune nature of man. The flame and water symbolize God's Spirit. This afternoon, the water wasn't running and the fountain was empty. Coincidence?

The skylight in the porch of the temple is an abstracted dove.

This lounge made me think I was in the lair of a James Bond villain, Roger Moore vintage. With a white cat.

And this mirrored passageway is like something out of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

In the center of campus is the Prayer Tower. The top is an observation deck, where one can get a view all over campus. The fixtures on the observation deck are meant to evoke a crown of thorns.

The Mabee Center is the campus arena and event center. What would an ORU building be without a ring of gold?


There are a few grace notes on campus, however. One of them is the campus itself. It's beautifully landscaped, with lush lawns and lots of trees and flowers.

The baseball stadium takes the interesting themes in the campus design and applies them quite well.

As you can see, the planned student center, while still futuristic-looking, avoids the gaudiness and wierd shapes of the older buildings. There is a noticeable, and welcome, lacking in gold.

Moving across 81st Street, we find the Cityplex Towers. Opened in 1981, they were known as the City of Faith. According to the 1981 ORU yearbook, Oral Roberts claimed to have a dream of a hospital which would open the "trickle" of the God's healing power to become a "flowing river." (Because God can't do it on his own.) He claimed to have a vision of a 900-foot-tall Jesus, who told him to build a hospital and medical school to combine medicine and faith-healing. So, Roberts built three skyscrapers on dirt-cheap South Tulsa real estate. That's right: 110 vertical stories of Class A way out in the 'burbs.

In 1983, Roberts claimed that a cure for cancer would come from ORU and City of Faith. In the late 1980s, he gained further notoriety for seeking to raise a lot of money to fund the hospital in a short amount of time, or God would take him "home." When the money didn't come in fully, God apparently offered him an extension. In the end, City of Faith closed in 1989, never having broken even, nor even fully occupied its buildings. The complex was sold.

At any rate, there's a whole lot of gold here. You can see ORU reflected in the glass.

The lobby: what the heck is this, an Egyptian temple? I feel like I'm in a scene from The Mummy Returns.

Christian architecture is hard to do right. Symbolism is important; everything should speak of God's glory. But symbolism doesn't have to be so obvious that it beats us over the head. We must pay tribute to our heritage and traditions, and not divorce them entirely in favor of something completely of the future. Balance is key here. And finally, we should take traditional aesthetics into account. Human experience over millennia has settled on patterns which are pleasing to the eye; those are not generally on display at ORU. Please add your own comments to this post. Let's discuss.

*I want to be very careful to mention that my critique of ORU here is for its architecture. I do not mean to impugn the students and faculty of the university. I mean only to comment on the design of its buildings. I do not mean to attack the character of the university or its people.