Buildings

"I undertook great projects: I built houses for myself and planted vineyards. I made gardens and parks and planted all kinds of fruit trees in them." (Ecclesiastes 2:4-5)

I have been privileged to visit some truly impressive buildings around the world. Rachel and I stood in front of the Great Pyramids of Giza and then went up to touch those ancient burial chambers. I've stood in St. Peter's Cathedral and the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican and strolled through untold numbers of massive churches in Germany, Austria and Italy. I've stood inside the Dome of the Rock on the Temple Mount in Jerusalem and imagined the games that once would have been held in the Colosseum in Rome.

Massive buildings, each meant to define a culture, or an individual. The pyramids, for example, were built so that Egypt would never forget the pharaohs who were buried there. Their height and size were meant to remind the people of the greatness of the man buried inside each one.

It's always a temptation to define ourselves or our culture by buildings. As Philip Yancey points out in his latest book, when the terrorists wanted to hit America, they aimed at buildings that were symbols of our perceived power—the World Trade Center (economic power), the Pentagon (military power), and the plane taken down in Pennsylvania was probably aimed toward the Capitol (political power). Granted, many, many people lost their lives in those buildings, but the attacks were symbolic: hurt the culture, damage our pride, destroy the buildings (the symbols).

Some people define their lives by buildings. Christopher Wren, the great architect who built much of London, including St. Paul's Cathedral, had this inscription put on his tomb (which is inside St. Paul's): "If you are seeking his monument, look around you." The building defined the man. I've even heard pastors (this may be shocking to you) talk about a building project as their "legacy" or their "defining moment."

The Teacher, in Ecclesiastes, built buildings. If he is Solomon, he build the Temple and his own palace. He built stables at Megiddo. He built all sorts of things all over Israel. His reign was the "golden age" of the kingdom, in many ways.

And yet, after all the building and all the projects and all the success, at a time when the kingdom is at peace and the symbols are intact, his legacy is assured, he concludes again: "When I surveyed all that my hands had done and what I had toiled to achieve, everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind; nothing was gained under the sun" (2:11). The buildings failed to satisfy the Teacher because he forgot that buildings are not a goal; buildings are a tool, to be used for a greater purpose. Buildings by themselves are nothing, really.

Even church buildings. As important and necessary as they are at times, the building itself is a tool to be used for the purpose of reach others for Jesus Christ. The building should never be an end in itself. In fact, the building is not the church. The people are the church. We talk about going to church when we're really talking about going to a building. We are the church, because the church is made up of those who follow Jesus. It's not a building.

In the end, buildings will not last, but the church will endure forever. While we invest great meaning and symbolic power in buildings, we must not lose track of the fact that such things are only useful as long as they enable us to accomplish our goal, our mission: making disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world.

Let the church say, "Amen!"

Colosseum, Rome - October 2014