For nearly 2,000 years, ecclesiastical architecture strained to direct the thoughts of worshipers to the unseen realm, where Christ is exalted in glory.

The earliest Byzantine churches featured elaborate murals and mosaics which led worshipers to focus on Christ as King, over emperor and church alike. Medieval Gothic architecture, as Abbot Suger explained in his commentary on the construction of his new church at St. Denis, endeavored to create an interface between the mundane and spiritual realms by directing light in certain ways and using construction to lift the hearts of worshipers into a realm of  majesty and awe.

Baroque Catholic churches painted their ceilings as though the heavens themselves were opening to receive the praise and oversee the spiritual exercises of those in attendance. Even the Protestant churches which sprang up after the Reformation, for all their simplicity, pointed toward the unseen realm with soaring steeples, many of which housed impressive bells to summon the faithful to worship.

The church steeple, in fact, could easily serve as the representative icon of the pre-modern period - much as the automobile did for the modern age and the Internet our postmodern generation. In every major city in Europe and America, as well as in many other places, steeples rise above the landscape of mundane life, pointing the hearts and minds of all to the unseen realm where Christ rules as King (Col. 3.1-3).

But all that is changing. Writing in the May 2, 2011, issue of USA Today, Cathy Lynn Grossman reports, "Nationwide, church steeples are taking a beating and the bell tolls for bell towers, too, as these landmarks of faith on the landscape are hard hit by economic, social and religious change."

Mainly the last, I suspect. "Architects and church planners see today's new congregations meet in retooled sports arenas or shopping malls or modern buildings designed to appeal to contemporary believers turned off by the look of old-time religion." One church architect reported, "'We have done a lot of church designs, but we haven't done a steeple design in 15 years.'" This same builder insists that people want their church to be "more like a mall."

In more than just architecture, I submit.

Let's face it: Today we want our Christianity hip, earthy, fun, and relevant to me. We don't like doctrine. We are not much into spiritual disciplines. We want our music electrified and up-beat, and if we must sing an old hymn to keep some of the older sorts happy, then we're going to fit it to a contemporary mode and instrumentation. Bands, not choirs, lead worship. Kleig lights, not candles, provide the illumination we prefer. And silence in worship, well, what good is that?

Are we losing our vision of the unseen realm or just trading it in? 

I can think of nothing more revealing about the kind of "Christianity" we prefer these days than the way we structure our facilities, our programs, and our worship to reflect the spiritus mundi more than the spiritual realm where Christ rules as King. We are nurturing a "this-worldly" faith for the sake of happiness here and now and the promise of eternal glory whenever.

And this represents a radical departure from a 2,000 year tradition. Just so we know.

Additional related texts: Romans 12.1, 2; 1 Corinthians 10.31; Colossians 3.1-3

A conversation starter: "Do you think our church is sufficiently 'other-worldy' in its message?"

T. M. Moore