Urban Covenant Churches
Whatever happened to all the historic urban Covenant churches? Today, but a few large, well-known Covenant congregations continue to occupy their original buildings within city limits.
Around the turn of this century, many Swedish immigrants who had been influenced by pietism and revivalism settled in cities and built Covenant churches, several dozen of which grew quite large. Then starting in the 1950s, and continuing for several decades, most of these congregations quietly dwindled in membership. As neighborhoods changed and Swedish ethnicity was replaced by nostalgia, too many members moved too far away to justify their Sunday commutes. The old urban churches either relocated, stayed and lost members (many to new outlying churches), or closed.
Today, something is occurring in a few urban churches to change the expected pattern of decline. Some city neighborhoods are coming back, with a healthy mix of commercial and residential real estate. This resurgence has given hope to some urban congregations. Economic deterioration and church decline in a neighborhood are usually correlated. The question now is whether the relationship can work in the other direction as a neighborhood improves.
First Covenant Church, Seattle, is a good example of the relationship between the fortunes of a church and its neighborhood. Still housed in its 1910 Skogsbergh tabernacle, the congregation has gone through the expected stages of decline, but is now in the process of challenging that pattern. The church is located in an area which is again becoming a desirable residential and commercial area within walking distance of Seattle’s booming downtown.
Swedes came to Seattle in significant numbers during the decade prior to World War I. Some attended the city’s Swedish churches, including the non-Lutheran ones. On Sunday nights, a thousand young immigrants filled the new “Svenska Tabernakel.” They listened to revivalist preaching, and not incidentally, looked over the opposite sex. Small-group conventicles were of their parents’ generation.
The Mission Covenant Church which evolved from these immigrant and revivalist beginnings became a respectable Swedish-American congregation, with a number of successful and prominent members. The architecturally-notable church building they constructed reminds us today that this was not a congregation led by working-class immigrants with simple tastes. Many of these Swedish-American church families lived in some of Seattle’s better neighborhoods on First Hill, Capitol Hill, or east of First Covenant toward Lake Washington, all within a few miles of church.
For twenty-five years after World War II, many of the next generation drove on new freeways and bridges to emerging neighborhoods in outer parts of Seattle or its suburbs. From the mid-1950s to 1968, the church attempted to buy land and build a new church. No satisfactory parcel was found, so the congregation voted to stay on First Hill and remodel. Not only was there no good place to which the congregation could move, it also became clear that the cost of building a new church was prohibitive. When the decision to stay was made in 1968-1969, the congregation consisted mostly of commuters. Few had any connections to the church’s immediate neighborhood. The church was dominated by families, and most families did not live in that area any more.
The further deterioration of the church neighborhood’s commercial and residential real estate was obvious throughout the 1970s and 1980s. Church members became increasingly disconnected from this area. Instead of it being a place where members lived, shopped, or worked (as many did prior to World War II), the church location was now their Sunday destination only. The commuting members recast the neighborhood as a mission field. People began to refer to First Covenant as an “inner-city” church, on the inevitable decline. There was some truth to that image. Street life got rough, especially at night, and many members felt apprehensive about their physical safety. People living around church were poor and needy, and sometimes threatening.
The church’s response to the social problems around it was similar to that of other urban churches in the same circumstances. The congregation created “outreach” programs, which took the form of food distribution, a playschool, an after-school children’s program, used clothing, and referrals to other agencies and missions. Many urban churches became involved in similar mission work on behalf of the poor, powerless and non-white who lived within that church’s neighborhood.
In the 1970s, “urban” became synonymous with “social problems.” Whether because they read about urban decay, used images of inevitable demographic and economic decline, or because they came face-to-face with drunks, addicts, muggers and graffiti, the result was that too many middle class church members left urban churches. Abstractions such as “the city,” or “inner city ministry” became common terms, often used in patronizing or negative ways. All urban churches got lumped together.
To be part of an urban church meant to struggle against considerable odds just to stay even. Those who remained in city churches no doubt wondered about the wisdom of their decision to “stay behind.” Many became committed to ministry in “the city,” something perceived of as out of the ordinary and a bit noble. It wasn’t easy to find new members who wanted to be part of an “urban challenge.” It wasn’t easy to know how to support existing urban churches which were trying to reverse their decline and make connections with their neighborhoods.
Then the context changed, or at least it did for First Covenant, Seattle. Within the past five years, a lot of money has gone into its immediate neighborhood and more is in the offing. A new state convention center and hotel were built three blocks down the street. Nearby is the city’s recently restored theater jewel, the Paramount. Several blocks farther away, Nordstroms anchors a huge retail redevelopment. Four blocks up First Hill are the city’s major hospital and medical facilities, which just keep growing; Seattle University is also expanding. Four blocks the other way is a thriving community college, with lots of international students. Across the street from church is a private secondary school. Up the street is the city’s main Mercedes and BMW dealer, and up from that a large supermarket is being built. There are restaurants, bookstores and theaters throughout the surrounding blocks. All around, apartments are being renovated, or buildings are leveled and rebuilt as upscale apartments and condos. In a one-mile radius of the church, there are now 43,000 people, sixty-five percent of whom have been to college, and seventy-five percent of whom have white collar jobs. There is a mix of high and moderate income, young and old, gay/lesbian and straight, alienated and established. The neighborhood is booming, and definitely not the decaying “inner city.”
Perceptions and images often outlive reality. Many church members who know the neighborhood only as a Sunday morning destination still use negative code words such as “inner city” to describe the area. The reality is that during the week many neighboring condominium owners carry briefcases as they walk to downtown office buildings. These secular urban professionals frequent the many neighborhood restaurants, coffee shops, book stores, and theaters. Not everyone fits this profile, but a large majority do.
Last year, the congregation bought the building next door to the church, a former car dealership. The building was purchased to provide parking for church members, but the act of becoming the owner of a major piece of real estate went far beyond that. First Covenant Church is now the landlord for a neighborhood “anchor” tenant, and shares some responsibility for the social and economic health of its immediate neighborhood. By purchasing the building the congregation said “we are here to stay,” a reaffirmation of what the congregation previously said in 1968-1969 when it voted to stay and remodel. Most church members do not live near church, but with the purchase and lease of this building they can no longer afford to be indifferent or patronizing toward people who live in the surrounding neighborhood.
The congregation is in the early stages of rethinking the relationship between its geographical parish and the church’s mission, staff, and programs. A year-long self-study and strategic plan was finished in March, 1995 and is already causing a healthy ferment of good ideas. The key is a congregational understanding of “mission.”
For most of its history, First Covenant, Seattle understood its mission as making or finding other “born again” believers who were compatible theologically, socially and economically. A nodding acquaintance with Swedish culture helped. In the late-1970s and 1980s, this sense of mission expanded, and some of the church’s effort was directed toward social programs aimed at people who lived near church.
Being the recipient of an “outreach” program wasn’t the same as being a peer in a “believer’s church.” What evolved was an attempt to have it both ways—to be a gathered believer’s church and to operate social amelioration programs for some local residents. The church remained as a believer’s church, although with an inherent tension between the church’s need to grow and its desire to grow with compatible believers.
The issues of poverty/affluence, race, and sexual orientation form the context in which most urban churches today must define their missions to people who live around them. People regularly bring these issues to the church door. But these are not exclusively urban issues, nor should they be the only factors in a church’s mission. Despite the stereotypes, cities also contain people whose desire for Christian worship, spiritual nurture, and fellowship outweigh their need to serve or be served. The social welfare needs of some city residents are great, and even the combined efforts of various churches are too little to make a significant difference.
Churches prosper or wither for a mix of reasons, many of which are internal to the church, such as personality conflicts, social cliques, worship-style preferences, or various congregational decisions which sap the interest of key people. Factors such as these have little to do with the church’s location. Urban churches do not wither simply because they are urban and their surrounding neighborhoods decline. The array of factors which mitigate against growth, a healthy corporate spiritual life, and meaningful worship is daunting. Framing an urban church’s mission as a response to social welfare issues appears to take a long-term toll on any urban congregation (e.g., number of members, and quality of leadership), especially if those programs take precedence over nurturing the spiritual life of individuals and of the congregation.
There are not many good models to suggest how an established Covenant congregation can become part of a resurgent urban neighborhood. There is not a strong denominational tradition of helping existing urban churches grow. The de facto pattern has been to let urban congregations go through the “inevitable” stages of decline, give some assistance toward urban outreach, subsidize the formation of new churches in outlying areas, and maybe sell an urban church building to an “ethnic” congregation.
It is possible to find Covenant pastors who are experienced with church work in “inner city” neighborhoods, where the issues of race, poverty, addiction, abuse and hopelessness dominate the daily lives of many people. It is difficult to find Covenant pastors who are effective at ministering to urban secular professionals, those people who choose to live in city condominiums rather than single-family houses. In the Covenant’s past there were dozens of urban churches. Today, there doesn’t seem to be much understanding of something as odd as an urban Covenant church which is located in a healthy neighborhood. It is probably better to look to Stockholm, Taipei, or Mexico City for models.
So, whatever happened to those historic urban Covenant churches? In most cases the neighborhood declined economically and socially, too many members left, and the church’s mission became partially redefined as social service “outreach” to the neighboring poor. Those members who stayed were not able to transform their congregation from a gathered, residually pietistic, Swedish-American believer’s church into one which also included people who didn’t fit that profile. The odds against that happening were considerable.
This story isn’t over. One of the last historic urban Covenant churches is not following the widespread model of quiet decline in an “inner city.” First Covenant, Seattle is in the process of trying to redefine itself and find its sense of mission to its “new” urban neighborhood. It is not yet clear how this congregation will connect with its neighbors, and continue to demonstrate what it means to be a faithful urban Covenant church. An urban congregation has to be a witness for Jesus Christ to the secular, diverse people who reside near it. Most of the neighbors of First Covenant drink lattes, attend films and theaters, read books, frequent the restaurants, and don’t go to church. Breaking into their lives with the Christian Gospel will require strategies other than those “outreach” programs identified in the past two decades with urban churches.
Curiously, the task today for First Covenant, Seattle is reminiscent of what the congregation did when evangelizing immigrant Swedes early in this century. Swedish Lutheranism, revivalism, social amelioration, and a little pietism have all been part of First Covenant’s past. Only the legacy of revivalism plays a significant role in defining the church today (“believer’s church”). Eighty-five years ago, Swedes were converted and found reasons to stay at the Swedish Tabernacle. The situation today is roughly parallel, and rather straightforward. People today who live in the church’s “new” neighborhood, or who commute from throughout the region, will either hear, see and respond to a life-centering Gospel or they won’t; they will either find people, worship, and spiritual nurture at this church or they won’t. The challenge really hasn’t been this basic in a long time.