An Argument for Sacred Space
While we are on this pilgrim journey, where this world is not our home, there is a need for place along the way. Space for centering, getting our bearings, a place where hearts can be renewed. When one goes back to the church in earlier centuries, it is obvious they yearned for this. This is underscored in Barnes' Searching for Home, a wonderful book whose subtitle defines his purpose—"Spirituality for Restless Souls." In a recent chapter, he captured a lot of what we hope our new church will be.
When the early church shifted from a displaced people to a legitimate faith, people began to leave the caves of places like Cappadocia for buildings. At first, the buildings served a more practical, than an inspirational role. The normative architecture of the early church was borrowed from the Roman basilica. These were buildings with massive walls, to hold up the roof, so windows were small. The basilica was the place of public meetings, and when converted to churches, the bishop sat in the seat where a magistrate sat, the communion table was placed near the apse, and the people stood where people stood in the public meetings. The form was never designed to suggest transcendence, inspire worship.
Eventually, a new breed of architects came along, with a passion to build sacred space. The Gothic cathedral emerged, a building with interior pillars, allowing thinner walls and expansive windows. It was a building designed to give the impression that the walls were transparent. The church was a work of art, calling the worshipper to God. In other words, it wasn't a building adapted for worship, as the basilica, but a building designed from the beginning for worship. The hope was that people would enter and become renewed in their conviction that God is, and God is amongst them.
It's ambitious, I know, to say this is the aim of our new sanctuary. But from the start we have prayed that this is what it will be—sacred space. There is no desire to adapt to what is—no intent to create a performing arts center, nor a place of familiarity, like an oversized living room. Rather, our hope is that when it is completed, this new structure will have its own role in renewing hearts and drawing people to God. That when the Word is preached, the setting will preach, and when we sing—it will make its own music.
Recently, twenty plus architects gathered to discuss the designed tower next to the sanctuary. And here's what greatly encouraged us. As they saw the design and intent of the building, they recognized that the tower with the cross must get it right. This is sacred space, and it cannot be compromised. Hopefully, what they saw in drawings, we will see once it is completed.
