More Than Just a Beautiful Building

When most people walk into a church like St. John’s, they notice the beauty first. They see the stained glass glowing in the morning sun, the carefully polished pews, the carved wood that has stood for generations. It feels timeless. Peaceful. Sacred.

What they probably don’t see is the boiler room, the flickering light in the choir loft, or the cracked pipe that leaked under the kitchen floor last Thursday. They don’t hear the HVAC groaning on a hot July Sunday or know about the roof inspection scheduled for next week. And that’s okay. In fact, that’s part of the goal.

My job as Chief Operating Officer is to make sure the sacred stays sacred, even when the pipes break.

The Reality Behind the Reverence

Church buildings are not just places of worship. They are living, breathing community centers. They host weddings, funerals, Sunday school classes, food drives, choir rehearsals, and more. That means constant use, which means constant upkeep.

And when you’re dealing with a historic building, the stakes are even higher. At St. John’s, parts of our structure date back over a century. That history is a gift, but it also comes with quirks and complications. Older materials wear differently. Systems get outdated. Upgrades need to be done carefully to preserve the look and feel of the space.

I’ve learned that church facility management is part history lesson, part puzzle, and part full-time emergency response.

Maintenance as Ministry

It might sound odd to call building maintenance a ministry, but I believe it is.

When we care for a sacred space, we are creating an environment where people can feel safe, welcomed, and spiritually grounded. That’s not just logistics, that’s service. It’s hospitality. It’s preparation for something greater.

A repaired roof means Sunday school classes can go on without buckets collecting rainwater. A working sound system means every member, regardless of where they sit, can hear the message. Clean restrooms, well-lit walkways, and functioning heating and cooling systems all contribute to the feeling that people matter.

And when something breaks, as it inevitably does, we respond not with frustration, but with commitment. Because this place matters.

The Cost of Doing It Right

One thing I’ve had to learn, and explain often, is that maintaining a church isn’t cheap. We’re not talking about occasional repairs. We’re talking about routine maintenance, long-term capital planning, emergency fixes, and modern upgrades, often all at the same time.

Budget conversations can be tough. People want to see their donations go directly to ministry, not to plumbing. But I always try to help them see that the building supports the ministry. It is the vessel that holds the work we do.

A cracked sidewalk may not feel like a spiritual issue, but for someone with mobility concerns, it is. An inefficient heating system might seem minor, but for a family attending Christmas Eve service, it can make all the difference between comfort and distraction.

Good stewardship means investing in both people and place.

The Team Behind the Curtain

None of this happens alone. I work with a dedicated team of custodians, vendors, contractors, staff, and volunteers who keep the wheels turning. They show up early. They stay late. They carry toolboxes and ladders and vacuum cords. They paint, polish, fix, and haul.

These are the folks who prepare rooms before events and clean up long after the crowds have gone home. Their work may go unnoticed, but it shapes every experience people have at the church.

I’ve also come to rely on professionals who specialize in historic preservation, structural engineering, and environmental systems. It takes humility to admit when something is beyond your scope, and wisdom to bring in the right help at the right time.

Balancing History and Modern Needs

One of the most rewarding and complicated parts of my job is figuring out how to bring our facilities into the 21st century without losing their soul.

That might mean installing energy-efficient lighting that blends with the sanctuary’s original architecture. It could be retrofitting spaces for accessibility without altering the footprint of the nave. Or it might involve adding technology that enhances worship without distracting from it.

Every decision carries weight. We’re not just solving problems. We’re telling a story about what we value and where we’re going.

What I’ve Learned Along the Way

I never imagined I’d spend so much time learning about sump pumps, electrical panels, and roofing warranties. But through it all, I’ve discovered some unexpected truths.

I’ve learned that small details make a big difference. That being proactive beats being reactive every time. That transparency builds trust when explaining repair costs to a congregation. And that it’s okay to laugh when a pipe bursts in the middle of a wedding rehearsal, as long as you know where the shut-off valve is.

Most of all, I’ve learned that caring for a church building is an act of love. It’s about preserving something beautiful so that others can encounter beauty too.

Why I Keep Showing Up

There are easier jobs out there. Jobs with fewer surprises and less stress. But few jobs carry this kind of meaning.

When I walk through the sanctuary early in the morning before anyone else arrives, I feel the quiet weight of everything this space has held, prayers, songs, tears, joy, grief, grace. I know that my work, as practical as it may seem, helps make that possible.

So I keep showing up. With a checklist in one hand and a sense of reverence in the other. Because sacred spaces deserve our best, even when the pipes break.