What does sacred space look like for the Church today?
The theology is pretty clear, but there’s different ways to apply it, and it makes a big difference which direction you go.
The theology is “Here we have no continuing city, but we seek the one to come.” The fire and storm that came on Sinai and that inaugurated the Temple sacrifices in Solomon’s day came on every head at Pentecost. From that day forward, sacred space isn’t a chunk of real estate in the same way that it used to be under the Old Covenant; the Spirit-indwelt believer is a portable mountain of God.
The commonest response to that reality is to ignore it, and just think of a church building as the “house of God” in the same way Solomon’s Temple was. Theologically, that’s a non-starter, but it’s very common.
The second most common application is iconoclastic: none of the buildings matter, it’s all just about the people now. This has curb appeal because it’s a very simple, straightforward application of the theology. Too simple, as it turns out. It misses two very important things.
First, in the immediate context of Hebrews, the same passage that says “we have no continuing city,” also says we need to do good and to share, “for with such sacrifices God is well pleased.” The book of Hebrews carefully develops a theology of new covenant priesthood in which Jesus replaces the old covenant priesthood with the far older priestly order of Melchizedek—and we come behind Him as our Forerunner. His sacrifice ends all sacrifice for sin, but there are still new covenant sacrifices, and we offer them as part of our priestly duty. He ministers, not in the earthly sanctuary, but in the heavenly sanctuary of which the earthly tabernacle was a copy. So there is such a thing as new covenant sacred space. It’s just in heaven.
But the iconoclasts are still wrong. Hebrews situates Jesus as our Forerunner and us as His younger siblings. Where He goes, we go. He goes behind the veil, into the heavenly sanctuary. We also offer sacrifices—the fruit of our lips, doing good, and sharing. When you’re a portable mountain of God and the Lord of Lords is your Forerunner, every beggar’s hand is an altar. The picture Hebrews paints is not that the sacred space is far away from us; we have been given the spiritual authority to call the sacred space down right here, right now, to offer our sacrifices in the presence of the Most High. That doesn’t mean there’s no sacred space on earth, that just means it moves: “here we have no continuing city.” We make the sacred space wherever and whenever we need to. Anywhere we offer our sacrifices, heaven meets us there.
Second, the iconoclastic move neglects the way God made us to be: humans exercise dominion over the earth. We build homes, shops, neighborhoods, cities—and that’s not some incidental factor or regrettable failing; it’s obedience to the first command God gave us (Gen. 1:28). We build things for purposes. A merchant has a store, a mechanic a shop, a chef a restaurant, an artist a studio, a teacher a classroom. From the Church’s earliest days, we gathered in multi-purpose spaces: principally homes, but also Solomon’s Porch, the School of Tyrannus, like that. It wasn’t until a few centuries in that we purpose-built spaces for the church to gather – not surprising, considering our quasi-legal status prior to Constantine.
Making a building for the purpose of gathering is the most natural thing in the world; it’s what we do for any other purpose. But constructing the building for that purpose does not make it sacred space. Sacred space is made when we, as new covenant priests, minister in the heavenly sanctuary. We do that all over town. And we can, and should, do it in the church buildings, too.
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