The Intersection of Architecture and Theology: An Exploration
Some of my earliest memories revolve around wiping the tiny graphite stained gum eraser shavings off of my drawings at my grandma’s house. She is an artist, and for me as a child (and still today) visiting her house was like stepping into an imagination fueled wonderland. Drafting tables, pencils in colors I didn’t even know existed, and art everywhere.
At the time she was a book cover designer for Johns Hopkins University Press. She would always have a few stacks of dust jackets stacked neatly on the table in her family room, her most recent work. I would excitedly anticipate the opportunity to learn about each book when I arrived at her house. It was here that my interest in art began.
Now, I am not a particularly gifted artist, but the spark of intrigue, the appreciation I had for art only grew as I got older. Most eight year old boys want to be a police officer or an astronaut, but I was sure I wanted to be an architect.
As the years passed I followed a different calling. I am beyond grateful that I have been able to become a Pastor and a writer but art and architecture will always hold a special place in my heart. I firmly believe that architecture and theology have a unique and important relationship that is worth diving into.
In the history of human civilization, architecture has often served as more than mere shelter or utility; it has functioned as a physical manifestation of theological beliefs. From the tabernacle in the wilderness to the cathedrals of medieval Europe, sacred spaces have reflected not only aesthetic aspirations but also profound theological convictions about the nature of God, humanity, and creation.
There has always been a relationship between architecture and theology. Architecture can convey theological and communal meaning, and I believe modern architecture can continue to reflect theological truths in an increasingly secular world.
In the biblical narrative, architecture first becomes significant with the construction of the tabernacle. The tabernacle was not merely a functional tent; it was a divinely instructed architectural structure symbolizing God’s presence with His people. In Exodus 25:8, God commands, “They are to make a sanctuary for me so that I may dwell among them.” The detailed instructions given for the tabernacle’s construction highlight that architecture in a theological context is not arbitrary but purposeful, reflecting divine order and holiness. I mean read through the detailed plans laid out in Exodus, it is clear that God cares about building specifications.
The tabernacle served as a mobile dwelling for God’s presence, but as Israel settled in the Promised Land, a permanent temple was built. Solomon’s temple, described in 1 Kings 6, exemplifies the theological concept of sacred space. The design—rich in symbolism and beauty—reflected key theological truths about God’s transcendence (the inner sanctuary) and His immanence (the outer courts accessible to the people). The presence of the ark in the Holy of Holies communicated that God was enthroned among His people (Psalm 99:1).
This biblical theology of sacred space continued in the New Testament. In John 1:14, we read that “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” The Greek word for “dwelt” is skēnoō, meaning “to tabernacle.” In the person of Jesus, the presence of God was no longer confined to a building but was embodied in Christ Himself. Post-resurrection, the Church became the temple of the Holy Spirit (1 Corinthians 3:16-17), shifting the theological understanding of architecture. While God’s dwelling is now within His people, physical spaces remain significant as places where believers gather to worship, commune, and reflect on God’s glory.
Throughout history, sacred architecture has served as a medium through which theological truths are communicated. Consider the soaring ceilings of Gothic cathedrals, designed to draw the eye heavenward and evoke a sense of the transcendence of God. Light, too, plays a significant role in these spaces. Stained glass windows, which depict biblical scenes, allow colored light to enter, symbolizing God’s revelation breaking into the darkness of the world (John 1:5).
These design elements were not incidental but intentional theological expressions. The architects understood that physical spaces can help create a place that points towards spiritual truths. The grandeur of these cathedrals was meant to inspire awe and reverence, creating an environment where worshipers could encounter a sense of the divine.
In contrast, modern church architecture has often trended toward minimalism, reflecting cultural shifts toward simplicity and functionality. While some might critique this trend as a loss of beauty, it can also reflect theological truths about God’s accessibility and the priesthood of all believers. A minimalist design can emphasize community and approachability, echoing the early church gatherings in homes and open spaces (cf. Acts 2:46-47).
Architecture is fundamentally an act of creation, and as such, it reflects the creative nature of God. In Genesis 1:27, we learn that humanity is made in the image of God, which includes the capacity to create. When we design and construct buildings, we are imitating our Creator, bringing order out of chaos and beauty out of raw materials.
Theologically, this has profound implications. Good architecture reflects God’s attributes: order, beauty, purpose, and care for human flourishing. When churches or sacred spaces are built with thoughtfulness and intentionality, they not only serve practical purposes but also echo the harmony of God’s original creation.
If we dig even deeper we can see that architecture can reflect eschatological hope. The imagery of the New Jerusalem in Revelation 21 is profoundly architectural. The city is described as having perfect dimensions, symbolizing completeness. Its walls, gates, and foundations are adorned with precious stones, reflecting the glory of God. The absence of a temple in this city is the ultimate realization of God’s dwelling with humanity: “I did not see a temple in it, because the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb are its temple” (Revelation 21:22).
In our contemporary, often secularized world, architecture remains a vital theological tool. Churches continue to be places where people encounter God, and their design can either hinder or enhance that encounter. While modern architecture often emphasizes efficiency and cost, theological architecture invites us to ask deeper questions: How does this space reflect the character of God? Does it inspire worship, community, and reflection on the divine?
One challenge of modern church architecture is balancing the need for functionality with the call to beauty. Beauty, though sometimes dismissed as superfluous, is deeply theological. It reflects God’s nature and draws people toward Him. In a world marked by brokenness, beauty serves as a prophetic reminder of the ultimate restoration that God will bring.
The design of sacred spaces should reflect the incarnational nature of the gospel. Spaces that are welcoming, accessible, and hospitable embody the love of Christ. Churches that intentionally include elements of light, openness, and natural materials can communicate theological truths about creation, redemption, and the invitation to new life in Christ.
The relationship between architecture and theology is rich and ought to be noticed. The next time you enter through the doors of your church, look around. For that matter, the next time you walk around your house take note. How do the structures we spend our lives in communicate truth, beauty, and community? How can we reflect divine love through every aspect of our lives?
Sacred architecture, from the tabernacle to modern churches, has always been a means of expressing and encountering theological truths. Whether through grandeur or the simplicity of a house church, architecture shapes how we experience God’s presence, reflect His beauty, and anticipate His coming kingdom.
As we continue to build, design and appreciate the design of spaces, may we do so with the intentionality of those who recognize that we are creating not only buildings but also environments where heaven touches earth. Let us remember that every sacred space, no matter how grand or humble, points us to the day when we will dwell forever with God in the ultimate sacred space: the New Earth, where God’s glory will be our eternal light.
“Look, God’s dwelling is with humanity, and he will live with them. They will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them and will be their God” (Revelation 21:3).
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This is so beautiful! I love how you have been able to find the bridge between both of your passions! Thank you for sharing