Nehemiah didn’t have to say a word. The king could see it in his face. Nehemiah was upset about the ruined walls and burnt out gates of Jerusalem.
The king knew Nehemiah’s sadness wouldn’t go away all by itself. He asks Nehemiah, “What do you want?”
Nehemiah makes a big, bold ask. “Send me there to rebuild the city, and provide the resources to do it.” Amazingly, the king grants his request! Why? It was the hand of God (Nehemiah 1:8).
Despite the overwhelming task and local opposition, the people get the walls rebuilt in fifty-two days. I believe that’s pretty good when you consider they had no heavy equipment or power tools. Plus, they worked with tools and materials in one hand and a sword, spear, or bow in the other.
God tears down and repairs walls. In Ephesians 2, Paul describes how Jesus tore down dividing walls by his blood. Then, God puts up a new structure, a dwelling place for his Spirit, built with believers on the foundation of the prophetic and apostolic scriptures, “with Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone” (Ephesians 2:20,21). Against all odds and opposition, God builds his church, a place where our lives are safe and secure.
Nehemiah gets an ornament on the Jesse Tree, reminding us of God’s amazing construction project. If you’ve read this far, be sure to go listen to Gold City sing “God’s Building a Church.”
“So Solomon built the house [of God] and finished it.” (1 Kings 6:14).
When I asked a Bible study class how much they thought should be spent on a church building, most replied, “Less than we do.” I thought that was an interesting answer. People like beautiful, well-maintained spaces for worship. But many underestimate the cost and commitment involved.
The temple Solomon built in Jerusalem was beautiful. Huge rocks from a quarry. Cedar-paneled walls overlaid with gold. Carved angels, engraved Palm tree and flowers, and olive wood doors. The furnishings and fabrics were exquisite.
How much did this all cost? Scholars disagree. At the very least it’s tens of millions of dollars in today’s currency. It probably cost far more than that. Too much? Appropriate for the Almighty God?
It’s true that the overhead of a building consumes a significant part of a congregation’s budget. But it’s also true that a church building is a visual that God is a part of a community. It provides a place for God’s people to gather and encourage one another to live out our faith. It is a place to go in the worst moments of life to find hope. It’s a place that reminds us we’re not alone in this. We rejoice, mourn, live, and die together as God’s people.
God didn’t need a temple. Neither did his people. They worshipped for a long time without one. They would still fall into sin with one.
When a woman anoints Jesus’s feet with costly perfume, he’s touched by the nice thing she did for him. Perhaps we should look at temples and church buildings in a similar way.
While walking the dogs on a drizzly Saturday afternoon, I had a conversation with a house-shopping couple from Canada who pulled up along side of us. They wondered if this neighborhood ever flooded. (It doesn’t.) They were also surprised at the cost of living here. I thought it was affordable, but with current prices, taxes, interest rates, and the exchange rate, it’s more expensive than it used to be.
As I walked away, I realized how blessed we were to have built our house nearly thirty years ago. I’m not sure we could afford to do it in today’s market.
After my wife and I got married, our first home was a one-bedroom, one-bathroom upstairs apartment on Spy Run in Ft. Wayne, Indiana, which we rented for $200 per month. The kitchen was five-foot by five-foot square, barely big enough for one person to stand. We only lived there for about four months, before packing up and moving to Baltimore for my vicarage (internship).
In Baltimore, the churches sponsoring us put us up in a three-story inner city row home. It was at the end of the row, so it had a little bit of a side yard between us and one of the churches we worked at. It was a run-down, falling-apart, and patched-together affair than probably should have been condemned. Living here for a year taught us we could live anywhere. No matter where in the world we went, from earthquake-shaken Haiti to remote villages in Kenya to single-wide trailers in rural Florida, we would say, “Well, it’s not as bad a Baltimore.”
After a year in the inner city, we moved back to Ft. Wayne for my last year of studies and rented a small house owned by a couple heading out for their internship. By the time previous owners had finished adding on a few rooms, there was a thousand feet of living space. (And it was better than Baltimore.) When the brutal winter weather hit, we discovered that the master bedroom, way in the back, had no ductwork for heat. It was chilly until we bought a kerosene heater.
After graduation from seminary, we moved to my first church in Coventry, Connecticut. There we lived in a parsonage, a two-story, five bedroom, 2-1/2 bath home on four acres next door to the church building. We moved in to the 2,700 square foot home with a bed, a crib, a table with two chairs, and maybe a dresser. We never did furnish the entire house the five years we lived there. I mowed the four acre yard, planted a big garden, split piles of logs for the wood burning stove, and let our two Labrador retrievers run freely.
The thing with living in a parsonage is that you don’t build up equity in the property. We didn’t make and didn’t save much in Connecticut, so when we moved to our second church in Iowa, we needed a lot of help finding a place to live. For the next five years I would be one of several pastors on staff at a well off church in Urbandale, a western suburb of Des Moines. We weren’t able to afford a home in that community, but found a small home in West Des Moines, not far away. The church gifted us with most of the downpayment on a 1,000 square foot, $65,000 house, the first we owned.
Five years later, we got the call to serve the church in Palm Coast, Florida. Our Iowa home sold easily, netting enough profit to buy our next home in the south. Rather than rushing into a purchase, we rented a home for the first six months. With three children, we wanted a four-bedroom home. There were few to choose from, so we decided to build. We never thought we’d be able to build a home. But building lots were going for $8,000, construction costs were $50 per square foot, and taxes were low, so we built a 2,000 square foot Palm Coast home for about $100,000.
In the years to come, we were able to refinance. We got into an adjustable rate mortgage that was tied to the prime interest rate during the years it was at zero percent. Our monthly payment and interest was actually lower than a car payment! Homestead laws meant our taxes barely inched up each year. Housing booms enabled us to refinance and remodel our home without increasing the mortgage payment. This was one of the ways God faithfully provided for us over the past forty years.
Having written that last sentence, we would do just fine if we were to start all over again.
Waite for it... 