In recent weeks at Old South, as we contemplate yet another season without a viable offer for our real estate, there have been a number of discussions— large and small; formal and informal—about what to do next. Just keep on keepin’ on, wishing and hoping that a buyer will come around one of these days? Or, should be more proactive and begin the process of moving full-time into the parish house, mothballing the sanctuary building (find a new home for the organ or put it into storage, drain the pipes, turn off utilities, stop heating it, etc.)? In the midst of these discussions and wonderings, there’s something that feels a little strange. While most of the congregation has been willing, with a few even eager, to sell the sanctuary building, the suggestion that we decommission it has been met with resistance.

Throughout this stage of the process, there’s one word that has started to stand out to me, a word that feels like it is becoming an insurmountable obstacle to our ability to move forward in a meaningful and faithful way. What could that word be? It’s the word “but.”

“I know the best path forward is probably to mothball the sanctuary building, but I just can’t do it.” “I know it’s important that the sanctuary building not become our primary mission, but there’s just got to be another way.” “Mothballing the sanctuary building is probably the best way forward, but moving into the parish house only feels like the least bad of a lot of bad options.” “I would prefer to just keep doing what we are doing and wait for an offer, but that’s probably not reasonable.”

The “buts” are seriously getting in the way.

Here’s the situation: We have two buildings— a sanctuary building (sanctuary) and a parish house (offices, fellowship hall, kitchen). Both of the buildings require work. In maintenance, upkeep and renovation work, the sanctuary building far exceeds the needs of the parish house. When it comes to evaluating assets, the sanctuary doesn’t have much. It’s a good worship space and has a nice organ; not much else. Importantly, average worship attendance is now down to the low to mid 20s. With those numbers, the sanctuary makes the congregation feel even smaller (in the parish house, it’s the reverse). The sanctuary building was put on the market in January of 2024. The parish house was added earlier this year. While we have had several interested parties and a couple of offers (that were later withdrawn), we currently have no prospects of a new offer anytime soon. And winter is coming.

Our real estate agent assures us that there is a buyer out there somewhere, but will our wait for prince or princess charming become our undoing? For me, this process has peeled away the veneer that has shielded an important reality from us. For those of us who gather in the Old South sanctuary Sunday after Sunday, most find it to be a lovely and peaceful place, a space that conveys a sense of wonder and beauty, even if that beauty is faded and peeling. The reality, though, is that the building is a hugely demanding one that requires a great deal of energy and financial resources just to maintain. Renovating is a significant prospect for anyone who’s not incredibly wealthy. It’s also not a useful building for the kind of world we live in now and is not easily converted to other uses. The building is nestled into a hillside, with only two or three parking spots immediately adjacent to the building (all other parking is across the street, behind and beside the parish house). The sloping floor in the sanctuary itself, which is part of the structure of the building, is a sort of early version of stadium seating. Great for a great view. Not at all great if you have mobility issues or if want to transform it into anything other than performance space. And, those who have looked at it as potential performance space have eventually realized that it’s hard to have good performance space without good parking. And, then there’s the architecture and the roof. The soaring and distinctive clock tower, which seems to have been deliberately fashioned to be the tallest steeple in the town, is another troublesome element of the building, in terms of maintenance. The roof is slate, and, if the rumors are true, was installed by the company that offered the lowest bid and, let’s just say, cut a corner here and there, corners that are now showing themselves to be serious liabilities. Finally, the building—though not terribly large— is a complicated one with a complex design of ceiling and roof. This, of course, adds still more the costs of maintenance and improvement.

“I know we should probably decommission and mothball it, but I just can’t do it.”

But?? Why not? The longer this goes, the more eager I am to decommission and mothball the sanctuary building. It all feels like we are being led to notice and absorb that the sanctuary that we love is really a monument to hubris, a monument that was meant to signal prominence in a small town with too many churches, as if the building itself could take care of the call to be a witness to God’s love and care.

“I know it’s important that the sanctuary building not become our primary mission, but there’s just got to be another way.”

The “buts” are getting in the way of recognizing and appreciating some hard truths about the sanctuary building, that the building is eagerly and hungrily draining our resources, exhausting us all body, soul and endowment.

I’d rather put the “buts” aside and start working on some “ifs.” IF we mothball the sanctuary building, what might happen then? IF we were able to spend a lot less time fretting over such a complicated and costly physical structure, what new things might make themselves known? And, what might it be like to embrace that we are the witness to God’s love and not that building in which we gather?

Ifs could help us to see beyond the difficulties of the present and imagine a different and more meaningful tomorrow. Instead, we are caught under a whole lot of buts, that stifle our faith rather than feed it. Will we be able to find the courage and grace to heave the buts and embrace the ifs?