Following is a post about my experience attending a church this past weekend. The goal was to see how they’ve created an experience focused on helping their local community; meeting the needs of the poor, widows, people in need in every manner of the word. This is the start of what may be a series on exploring how community can be impacted by church, and the pros and cons of that experience.

This past Saturday I visited Church in the Valley, a Seventh-day Adventist church in British Columbia, Canada. A handful of us drove up together to see what they were doing. My expectations were high, but I wasn’t sure what we’d learn that could apply to our church in Idaho.

First, I was surprised at how the church just appeared right inside the city. I thought it’d be on a larger campus. The parking lot was smaller than I expected—a major Achilles heel for the church and the building; while big, didn’t feel massive and threatening. It felt like, and later the word would come to me, a convention center or event center. A community center. A place right inside the city.

We were met by an enthusiastic greeter waving us in. The goal of the greeting team is to connect each newcomer to three people, which results in an 80% probability of them coming back. 

I circled the atrium. It was a large space, a place that could seat around 200 people if tables were laid out. At the time, it was being used as a welcome center for guests, a warm drinks bar, and an in-between place for people to connect. 

The atrium space itself felt underwhelming at first.

It wasn’t what I expected. Instead of a grand entrance, it was just a space to be used. It had very little decoration, but it was well laid out with a sense of purpose I later recognized. 

I headed to the drinks area and asked for a latte. Again, the space wasn’t overly decorated, but it was useful, and the people serving were friendly and happy to answer questions. 

Several televisions showed a countdown to the start of service. People stood around talking, dressed anywhere from very casual all the way up to full suits. 

One side of the atrium led upstairs to the kids’ wings, in the center doors led into the sanctuary, and on the far end beside the coffee shop a wide hallway led to a recreation area with a small ball court, closets with bouncy castles, a climbing wall, and a gym overlooking the court. The kitchen connected to the coffee shop also extended to the recreation area and could serve a second area for food. 

We walked into service with less than 60 seconds on the clock. Stepping into the area I typically think of as church, or the sanctuary, I started to get it. The space was well designed, but again not overstated. It’s thoughtful. The sanctuary is wide but not deep. It seats around 960, but no single area feels overly large. By the time service ended I’d estimate the seats were a little over half full. Each time I expected something grand and opulent, I was met with a space that seemed to do just enough, but with the freedom to pivot to something else quickly. Tables for lunch weren’t decorated, and were rolled up quickly and stored after the meals. 

The service was well timed, presenters did a good job of explaining their purpose for being up there, explaining each transition for anyone unfamiliar with church. At times the slides listed out the names of whoever was speaking. Most of the team leading out worship were teenagers or young adults. There was one element missing that I didn’t realize at first. 

The elevated stage was, again, functional but fitting, with a large projection above the singers for lyrics and descriptions and pictures, and two projectors to the side for zoomed-in shots of the presenters. 

After the sermon, we watched a testimonial video connecting to a baptism on stage. We welcomed a new member into the church. This moment brought tears to my eyes. The testimonial video shared the journey of Sarah from the moment her son wanted to come to church up through stepping into the water. Service ended with announcements, shared by two presenters switching off, and mentioned that guests just needed to look for volunteers in blue shirts if they had any questions. I then realized what I was missing and scanned the large room to check. There were no kids. I wondered about that. 

After church, we separated for small groups, or Sabbath Schools as I’m used to calling them. I met one of the young adult leaders, and he showed me where the youth met. With permission from the youth leader, I sat in for part of the class as close to 40 kids piled in. Some of them I recognized from leading worship. The class used the same curriculum as our church, and the leader did a great job with the constraints of having so many kids. She shared that some days they have up to 50 teenagers, ages 13-18, as I recall. 

As the class started, another member stepped forward, asking for volunteers for an event later that day, perhaps wrapping gift boxes for the community. Several kids offered to help. 

For lunch, we were invited back to the atrium. The coffee area from earlier swapped out for a lunch serving space.

We ate, then met with several of the staff to start our tour. The first thing impressed on us was the importance of setting aside personal politics at the door. The church is made up of people from many cultures and backgrounds, all coming together with one goal toward love, community, and worship. It’s not a place for partisanship, and any discussion of politics only happens in safe spaces where topics can be unpacked carefully through the context of being a Christian. 

Their reason for being was a determined focus on mission. They’d spent time wrestling through their mission, vision, and values; things that self-admittedly are parts of business and organization 101, but they took seriously to find their reason for existing. 

Their mission is to love God, love people, and serve the world. They regularly ask if the community would miss them if they disappeared. If the answer is no, then there’s work to do. 

We started the tour and saw the gym space reused as a play area for kids to throw ball for a going-away party. We watched as a little boy hurt his hand and rushed to the gym doors. A father stepped forward and reached out to comfort him. That father had been sitting outside the gym, resting at one of the tables and able to connect with others while keeping an eye on his child.

As we walked through the halls and rooms in the 60,000+ square-foot space, we saw multi-functional pods everywhere. The atrium could become a standup comedy stage, the chapel could be used as a space for a tv show, rooms are rented for classes and community events, and the space itself is home to another church on Sundays. 

The building was designed as an event center, doubling as both an Adventist church and a space for the community.

We saw the garage bays and learned more about their ministry for changing oil for single moms. During the oil change—something we missed because it was scheduled the next day—they offer childcare, getting nails done, and other activities for moms. 

Someone can come for help or worship, or both. A community member might visit for a while and just be part of one of the specific ministries set up to help them. They might attend classes or just bring their children to kid’s church. It might be months or longer before they ever stepped into the sanctuary space itself. 

They have a separate space for a food pantry and meals for the homeless. This space also served as a spot for friends and family of the woman who got baptized. This was the third place having lunch at the same time.

I kept asking how they avoid burnout. The answer seems to be mixed. They’ve used the rental incomes, government funds for community events, and other financial sources to fund the building cost along with the staff. A half dozen staff are full-time, with more part-time and still more paid hourly. It seems to be a mix of many volunteers donating their time with a mix of paid for those with the largest investment of time and energy. 

One major element though has been to do less large events. 

They found that the reward is not worth the massive amounts of energy they were putting out. They’re instead trying to focus more on life groups and small groups and community needs, with varying success. They’ve tested a lot of things and are constantly pivoting based on what’s working and not working. 

We asked why they switched service order, with worship first and small groups after. They had a hunch that it would help with bringing in more young people, be a positive effect on ministries overall, and launched it as a test. After eight months, they polled the church and 98% voted to keep it that way. 

Many other small things, such as choosing to not have bulletins and opting for texting software to update the church, come from a constant re-evaluation of what fits their mission and needs. Their extreme home makeover came from seeing a need and filling it. It eventually got phased out. They might shut down the coffee bar since it’s running at a deficit. They’re not afraid to turn things off if they’re not working. Meeting people where they’re at starts with offering a transactional service. Meet their needs. Show you love them, then if they ask for questions on faith, be ready to share it. They’ve tried life groups, small groups, had successes, had failures, and keep testing new things.

The goal is to move people along a track, as they are interested, pulling them from service events to meet their needs and eventually offering a call to worship together. 

At one point, I asked about people who disagreed with decisions made along the way, and how they approached disagreements in general. They believe their growth and community impact came from wrestling through their mission and purpose for being, and in that process, many decided to move together in a single direction, and some who felt strongly otherwise moved onto other churches in the area. 

That purpose helps clarify decisions on a regular basis. I didn’t get the sense that things are perfect, that they’re easy, or they don’t wrestle with challenging logistical issues. But it did seem that they have a purpose and are able to make decisions against that purpose. 

Another big decision they made was to have a kid’s church at the same time as the main church. 

We asked lots of questions, concerned about the negative impacts it could have on the congregation as a whole. The decision came out of young families and kids wanting to have a church experience that they could really be part of, to meet their needs. 

I started getting nervous when they shared the space for kid’s church. 

Again, I asked about burnout. 

Then they shared something that shocked me. Kid’s church is led by kids. Or, more specifically, the youth. This gives teenagers a chance to be leaders, run the audio/visual, and make mistakes and figure out how they can be involved. The kids who are most interested and show themselves capable are then invited to lead out in the main service. 

Throughout the church, teenagers are leading and organizing and actively part of the church. They’re not simply being served; they’re serving. 

As we toured the kid zone, along with all the other spaces, modularity was mentioned over and over again. Each space could be used for another purpose; most large items had wheels, and if they had to make a decision of function over form, they chose function every time. 

Despite their size, they’re constantly running out of space. The youth small group needs to be split up to accommodate younger and older teens. The acoustics in that room are not great since it’s open to the gym ball area. The children’s classes don’t have enough closet space. They had to cut drastic costs with A/V. Their parking lot (despite the beautiful greenery between spaces) is too small. The only spot that seemed sufficient, and maybe a little big, was the sanctuary itself. Many of the focused areas seemed like they could have been bigger, including the gym, which could easily have been double the size. 

Despite that, they ultimately had to build what they could afford, and they’re constantly pivoting to account for issues with space. Until the time our tour ended, close to 8 p.m. as I recall, the place never seemed empty. We saw multiple events happening, kids running around, and conversation and movement everywhere. The space was being used. 

The intentionality of every moment, despite the apparent chaos everywhere, all came back to the church being a place for community. The little boy who got hurt was helped by his dad, a few feet away through the glass enjoying a moment of rest. Kids have a church specific to them, but also lead out service for everyone. Youth help to run the services. Many volunteers are paid; the areas all double as rental spaces. 

Things like spilled drinks on carpet, or scuffed walls, are little more than an inconvenience. They want to treat their space with respect, but it’s meant to be used, not hallowed. If a renter messes up a carpet, it’s part of the contract that CIV (short for Church in the Valley) will repair it and invoice the renter. They found that doing it themselves kept quality where they needed it, and reduced any guilt renters might feel. They joked that the walls kept closing in because of how many times they’d repainted, and all carpeted areas had tiles that get swapped out when needed. 

As I looked closer at the baseboards, I saw scuffs and nicks. The carpets had small stains and imperfections. It didn’t mean they don’t care for the space, but they expect wear and tear, preferring to focus on who is using it and why. Loud kids are wonderful; spilled carpets mean that activity and life are happening. Kids might run through the hallways, and that’s a good thing.

The next Sabbath, kids would lead the service. At the end of the month, the youth would do the same. Even though they split into children’s church and adult church, they create ways to bring them back together.

The building that at first felt industrial and stale and function-based came alive throughout the day as a place that is useful and used. The people inside the building made it beautiful, not the building itself. 

There are still many things they’re trying to figure out. They have issues with their security that they want to improve; they made a mistake with the mural in the kid’s zone that they wish they could fix. They struggle to reach people online. Even though they believe their purpose is local and community-based, they still want to find ways to service people who don’t attend. They’re switching away from an email newsletter to a text-based app. They’re willing to change anything not working and iterate as needed, sort of like a business, sort of like a ministry. 

Looking to our own church, we already have all the right elements. We could do this; we’re already doing this. 

As we shared about all the things we do in our local church, they kept impressing on us how much further along we are than when they started. We have all the pieces, with prayer, and not a few miracles; the impact we want will happen.

What they’ve built isn’t perfect, but it’s a mix between a church and a community center, a place that would be missed, a place that is used, and a place where they can grow together and look outward. They’re not a social club; they have a bigger purpose. 

I caught a glimpse of where we can go. They started with a single person’s vision and built around that. 

At one point, a member felt impressed to place an ad for land and was teased for it. Newspapers are old-fashioned; nobody reads them anymore. But someone did. A woman who had been praying for years for her land to be turned into a church read that advertisement and called. Miracle after miracle happened as God opened the way to meet the needs of the community. 

This is a model worth exploring for our own communities. Striving to create a place that would be missed, a place that people grow in and live their lives through, a place that helps the broken, loves the needy, and encourages those who are struggling. We’re already doing some of these things in our local church.

Stepping through Church in the Valley, I was struck by a vision of a living, breathing place that can be a light for the entire community.