Never Have I Ever: The Big Church Building Race

 

Over the last 21 years of ministry, I've been blessed to welcome many guest speakers and over 44 Christian bands into our church. One question inevitably comes up, usually with the best intentions from our guests—especially those from larger churches in the U.S.:  

"So, when are you going to add onto your building or start a capital campaign to get a bigger facility?"  

Honestly? Sometimes I find that question a little rude. Not because it’s asked but because it assumes that "bigger is always better," and that starting a capital campaign is an automatic next step for a healthy church. The truth is, for us, there really is no plan to expand our physical space—and that has been asked from leadership within our own denomination as well. 

There’s a certain charm about a smaller church building that often gets lost in the rush to build bigger sanctuaries or worship centers. When you walk through our doors, you feel a very warm, welcoming atmosphere—a trendy country chic look that fosters connection. In a smaller congregation, you get to say hi to everyone. Now, I get it, that can feel a bit intimidating if someone just wants to blend in and not be seen. But it also creates a tight-knit community that bigger buildings unintentionally dilute.

What is more disheartening is the historical context. Our church started again after a major internal storm—crushed to 8 people with a large mortgage hanging over us in 2005. So the idea of racing into a capital campaign or a building expansion feels premature and even imprudent. If we ever reach a point that we feel we are outgrowing this building, we will simply add a second service (something we've done before) or even a Saturday night service if the need demands it. But right now, being just $7,053.00 away from paying off our mortgage—the last thing I want is to incur new debt.

I recall the excitement surrounding the Milwaukee Brewers’ new stadium, Miller Park. I was there opening night, and for the entire season, the stadium was packed. People came specifically for the shiny new park experience. Even after games, they’d open and close the roof as a thank you to Milwaukee County taxpayers. But once the novelty wore off, and the Brewers remained...well, the Brewers, attendance slumped. The lesson? New buildings may attract attention, but that only lasts so long in some cases.

What truly matters is creating a culture where people feel welcome, loved, and most importantly, sense God’s presence through fellowship. I've lived through a capital campaign in "Another Time and Another Place" (cue Sandi Patty), and it was a failure—an exhausting, financial, and emotional strain.

The idea of always needing to get bigger, plunge into debt, or spend extravagantly on buildings and venues is simply not on my radar. I much prefer keeping what we have well-maintained, with occasional updates, while keeping the main thing the main thing: ministry.

Remember, the church doors are there for people to come in, but just as importantly, for people to go out into their communities—because ministry extends beyond any walls.

One sobering statistic: about 20% of pastors leave within 2 years of a building project. The strain of a capital campaign significantly increases pastoral turnover during or immediately after. For rural churches like ours, which average 30 to 60 people in weekly attendance nationwide, I say hallelujah for what God has granted us!

Sure, we occasionally wrestle with the sump pump, and once in a while, kids church feels a bit cramped. That’s why our kids’ program meets on a separate night, allowing sanctuary space if needed. But dare I say, I prefer the feel of an English pub—the community’s cozy living room, rustic with warm wood beams and charm, over a large, institutional, black-painted room (I still don’t understand that modern trend) that feels cold and uninviting.

Call me old-fashioned, but I cherish a smaller building where friendships flourish, people greet one another (partly because you just have to in a smaller space—again, that pub feel), and where potlucks are still a cherished tradition.

In ministry, bigger isn’t always better. Faithfulness, community, and God’s presence within and beyond these walls—that’s what truly counts.