A Devout Meditation on Bigger Barns

While sitting in front of a mechanic's shop, next to the church where I grew up, I couldn't help but think about how it has changed in my life. Growing up, it was an auditorium and six or eight classrooms. Then a fellowship hall was added. Then, a decade later, a new auditorium and many more classrooms.

As I sat in the mechanic's parking lot, I considered the footprint that the building now takes up. The church's campus has overtaken the property adjacent to it and torn down a home in order to make room for the new million dollar plus building.

At first, I felt nostalgic. It was rather quaint in the old days. I have very very fond memories of growing up in that church and in those small classrooms that went with the original auditorium. I have more fond memories of VBS taking place, oddly, on Wednesday nights during summers in that fellowship hall. And more recently, I think fondly of the many warm receptions I've received in the new auditorium when I return to visit. But my nostalgia turned quickly to regret.

While not a "member" anymore, I still feel a special connection to that church, and I felt bad that the folks there thought it necessary to build bigger barns. I felt bad that churches in general feel the need to build bigger barns.

Then my mind wondered to the question: why do churches feel the need to build bigger barns? I suspect there are sources out there that have explored this question with substantive research, which is fine; if you can find such research explore it, please. But I wonder if the answer is simply that churches feel the need to prove to the world that they have some sort of power.

They exist in their shells as a place where individuals gather together (see Bill Cavanaugh's work), and so when they fail to witness to the world a better, communal way of life, they feel the need to witness the size of their building in a way that shows "hey, there's stuff happening here" (nevermind the debt we're building up with this new building). Churches that build bigger barns buy into the world's definition of success; therefore, they must witness success according to the rules of the world. So "let's build a bigger barn to show our success!"

What if success meant getting smaller? What if witness meant, not showing off for folks driving down Main Street, but humbly living the way of Jesus in the midst of a consumerist society?