On the closing of a precious congregation

Glendale Evangelical Lutheran Church 1944-2023

Glendale Evangelical Lutheran Church couldn’t have been planted at a more opportune time.  1944 was pregnant with hope. The end of the war imminent, the baby boom about to deliver, and next-ring suburbs, like Burien, Washington were filling to the brim with little families like Karl and Verona Hoff. Jobs were plentiful and the Servicemen's Readjustment Act of 1944 was helping a bunch of veterans get in to the housing market. In the next decade Karl and Verona would have their three kids, all who would be living stones in the growing church. Pastor Reike was evangelically warm and generously faithful. He had the capacity for, or at least practiced, knowing everyone’s name. The church grew out of chapel, then lengthened chapel, then large gym, and then they packed the 840 seat modern sanctuary in less than 25 years.

79 years later Gledale Lutheran Church will have its final worship service on Sunday, April 23rd. That is 4 days before my baptismal anniversary. I was baptized in to Christ by Pastor Reike at Glendale on Sunday, April 27th, 1975. My baptismal poem:

Old Nathan 
drowned on this day. 
So new Nathan 
could could rise and say 
“It’s not me who lives 
but the one who to me gives 
His kingdom here on earth and in heaven 
All on April 27!

I was baptized at Glendale because we had just moved to Seattle, and it was Herb’s (my dad) home church, where he had been baptized, graduated from kindergarten, was confirmed, ordained, and eventually returned to serve as one of Glendale’s pastors in the 1990’s.

I spent my Sophomore through Senior years at Glendale before graduating from Highline High School in 1993 and leaving for college, marriage, then seminary, and now I have been a pastor since 2003. I have my own thoughts about Glendale’s decline, but that is for others closer than I to do any postmortem. My grandma Verona, who will turn 100 this June is still a member at Glendale, but because of mobility and memory care issues has heaven more in her view, then the things of earth that are growing strangely dim. I’m glad for her. I’m glad that she will be spared the grief of this loss.

How do I feel? A lot.

A lot of gratitude. This was the actual place, on actual terrazzo and baby-poop-yellow carpet, surrounded by God’s faithful people, including my parents, grandparents, Karla my sponsor, where the words and water of life were poured over my head—the place where God laid claim to me! In many ways, this was the place where heaven touched down in my life.

It was the same place where I experienced the deepest loneliness in my life. I moved in the middle of my 10th grade year, and initially had hard time making friends. My best friends were my grandparent’s friends. I was almost 16 and they were in their 80’s. And they were actually good friends. Wise, funny, loving, committed. We went to breakfast at the Fred Meyer Cafe before church every Sunday. During this time my relationship with God became less superficial, more profound. I needed God. And, God was there for me. I bless that loneliness that led me deeper into the heart of God.

It was the same place where I was given lots of space to try on a ministry vocation. They taught me to run sound, play the bass, usher, help chant the liturgy. I was helpful. I was flaky. I was growing up. I hardly ever just sat in the pew. It was also here that I experienced a bit of rejection. When I was discerning a call to vocational ministry, my membership was at Glendale, and they filled out the necessary paperwork for the Northwest Washington Synod, but weren’t able to, or choose not to participate in helping me financially with seminary. That hurt. But, that is the church—a place and people who have a great capacity to simultaneously hurt and heal, to wound and to equip. The experience has made me a bulldog for trying to help seminarians get through seminary debt-free. The Lord has been blessing this commitment by bringing numerous seminarians my way over the last few years.

I feel a lot of gratitude for the transforming discipleship experience that my grandparents and my dad had at Glendale. Their faith was deepened, and I have surely reaped the benefit as God has shown “steadfast love to thousands of those” who have lived in the love and the commands of God. (Exodus 20.5-6 & Conclusion to the 10 Commandments in Luther’s Small Catechism).

A lot of grief. This is a loss. Glendale, for many of her years, was a reliable gospel-oriented parish. More of those are needed, not less.

I grieve for the few souls who are left, and are having to decide where to go to church.

I grieve not being able visit the place of my baptism, and I wonder where my grandma’s service will be held when the time comes.

I grieve for what feels like, a loss of destiny.

I feel a lot of gratitude, and a lot of grief. I am also angry.

Early reports estimate the assets of Glendale to be between $5-6 million. As of now, they plan to give over 70% of those assets to synodical entities (Churchwide and NW Washington Synod). That is a lot of money. I don’t want to go to the dark side of cynicism, but this is NOT where the gospel-action takes place. Gospel-action takes place where the Shepherd speaks to and feeds the sheep. Luther wrote,

“Thank God, a seven-year-old child knows what the church is, namely the holy believers and lambs who hear the voice of their Shepherd.” (Smalcald Article 13).

That is radically local.

Churchwide and synodical ‘expressions’ are in maintenance mode, or worse. I wish it were not so, but closing parishes seems to be the sustaining solution to synodical survival. Synodical survival might be compelling to some, but is far from a captivating vision to me. Check out the decline in both local synod and churchwide ‘expressions’ between 1988 (last merger) and now. You will find a sobering drop in attendance and membership.

Here are two examples that show how the grief of closing congregations can turn into full resurrection hope. Vintage Church in Santa Monica meets in what used to be a Baptist church that was experiencing steep decline. That Baptist Church buried their seed in the soil of a vital and gospel-oriented church and the fruit has been magnificent. Restoration Anglican in South Minneapolis meets in what used to be a Lutheran Church that was experiencing decline. They partnered up for a special services, shared some Bible Studies and prayer times, and a common Lent. The Lutheran Church gave Resurrection their building a while ago. Resurrection indeed! The gospel-action is alive in these places! The long-obedient-investment of God’s faithful people continues to facilitate effective gospel-ministry ringing out from these places. If I had a voice in these matters, I would encourage congregational assets to be given to congregations.

Finally, I feel a lot of hope. The church is not closing. Glendale is, and many local congregations before it and after it, including some of the New Testament churches that are among my favorite have closed. The story of the faithful in Ephesus is as real in my hearing as the story of the faithful at Glendale in Burien. God’s work will go on. Jesus promises “I will build my church, and the gates of hell won’t prevail against it” Matthew 16.18. The church doesn’t belong to herself, or to a synodical entity, or to the founding pastor or the longest or most generous member. The church belongs to Jesus. With his own blood he bought her, and for her life he died.

Also, I’ve seen too much in the last few years to be despairing. The days ahead will be different, but I am anticipating and already experiencing a very fruitful season. But, today I feel a lot of gratitude, grief, anger, and hope.