From Preservation Online, the online magazine of the National Trust for Historic Preservation

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When the congregation of Calvary Chapel Rio Grande Valley Church in Belen, N.M., began looking for new space to accommodate its growing flock, they set their sights on a seemingly offbeat locale: a vacant Wal-Mart. Such a choice is becoming more common as some churches are beginning to convert empty retail spaces into sacred places.

As parishioner numbers swell and worship trends shift, churches throughout the country are seeking out unconventional buildings that offer practical alternatives to steeple-topped churches and wooden pews. Over the past few years, vacant strip malls, cinema complexes, and big-box chain stores have been turned into churches. The appeal of these buildings isn't necessarily in the aesthetics, but rather in their price tags and proportions.

Nondescript facades can reflect certain spiritual messages. As more traditional-looking houses of worship close down in urban communities nationwide, some pastors opt for vacant big-boxes precisely because they don't resemble churches. "A lot of congregations aren't looking to the old, abandoned churches as much as to new, alternative spaces," says Scott Thumma, a sociologist at the Hartford Institute for Religion Research who has spent 15 years studying so-called megachurches.

An emerging phenomenon, megachurches consist of mostly Protestant churches with large weekly attendance numbers of at least 2,000 worshipers, headed by charismatic ministers who emphasize that church can be a seven-day-a-week lifestyle, according to Thumma.

As New Mexico's Calvary Chapel grew, its pastors decided to put their faith for a new home in an empty Wal-Mart. "It was the only building adequately sized in the area," says Steven Kerns, associate pastor. The nondenominational church, founded in 1992, started as a small group that met in the senior pastor's home and later moved to a 9,000-square-foot church outside downtown Belen.

By 1999, with membership mushrooming, church officials decided to look for another location but didn't have the funds for land and a new structure. Instead, they targeted a 70,000-square-foot Wal-Mart in the city's downtown that had been vacant for a couple years. After two failed bids, Wal-Mart agreed to a 14-year graduated lease with the church in 2001, and members promptly moved in and began renovations.

The building, once stocked with clothes, kitchenware, and CDs, now boasts a 1,350-seating sanctuary, more than a dozen administrative offices and classrooms, a playroom and youth recreation room, a coffee shop, and a restaurant. The former loading dock is now a junior basketball court.

So far, the church has spent $600,000 to convert the building, with much of the work done by tradesman who are also church members. Kerns estimates they would have spent between $1.5 to $2 million if they had outsourced the project.

Some congregations, having outgrown a smaller structure, move into big-box spaces temporarily until they are financially able to build a church of their own. In suburbs, the prime location of big-boxes, which are usually situated off of major transportation arteries, provides an easy commute for most parishioners as well as another bonus: ample parking. Cavalry Chapel can accommodate 400 cars in its front lot alone.

In contrast to the transformation within at Calvary Chapel, very little has changed outside, other than a fresh coat of paint to cover up the Wal-Mart logos and a lighted sign bearing the church's name. "Anyone who knows an old Wal-Mart building can say it's one," says Kerns. Apparently that kind of recognition isn't a drawback; the parish counts about 1,600 adults and 500 children. "Everyone knows us and is curious as to what's going on," Kerns says.

With churches that could pass for office parks or malls, ministers hope to attract new generations previously intimidated by organized, traditional religion. "It's just like going to the mall or grocery store," Thumma says. By downplaying overt religious symbolism, he says, now churches can convey the idea that the sacredness of church does not lie in the building but in the people who have gathered there.

Not all big-box churches have shed their ecclesiastic image. With its red-brick exterior, white columns and stately steeple, there is no mistaking the function of First Christian Church in Miami, Okla., also a former Wal-Mart. "We hoped people wouldn't drive by and say, 'Oh, there's a Wal-Mart,'" says Leon Weece, pastor for the independent, 111-year-old congregation.

After 80 years at the same site, First Christian Church had become too small for its parishioners and in 2000 formed a committee to come up with different options. "Someone jokingly said, 'There's a Wal-Mart,' and we all laughed," Weece says. "Well, some laughed; some got mad."

Although a few members initially balked at the idea, they began to take it seriously as other alternatives proved too expensive. Weece visited a big-box church in Carthage, Mo., and came back convinced. After two years of negotiating with Wal-Mart, the church bought the 93,000-square-foot-structure for $10 a square foot.

It took another two years of renovations, including raising the roof by 20 feet and adding a steeple, before services began last July. In all, the congregation spent about $3.4 million on the entire project-about half the amount it would have cost for building a new church, according to church officials.

The overall reaction to the move has been positive and, while a few parishioners left in protest, their congregation is up from about 500 people at the old location to between 650-750 current members, according to Weece. Their new neighborhood has also given them a favorable reception. "The community has been pleased more than I ever expected," Weece says. "No one likes an empty building."

That sentiment is also echoed by big-box retailers who, while loathe to rent or sell space to possible competitors, are eager to re-tenant buildings that would otherwise languish empty. A little more than a dozen vacant stores have become churches since 2002, according to Dan Fogleman, a Wal-Mart spokesman. "It's been very successful, and the community wants and needs these buildings back into use," Fogleman says.

Nearby businesses and houses can benefit from the reuse of big-boxes, whether for a church or another purpose. "Anything that brings back life or activity to the area is positive, and it doesn't take away from retail even if it's a church," says Michael Beyard, a senior resident fellow at the Urban Land Institute.

Both churchgoers and nonmembers have welcomed such secular solutions in the search for new spiritual places. "Everyone is impressed with what's happened here and the things we've done," Kerns says.

This story was originally published on Preservation Online on Aug. 5, 2005.

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