Squeezed Out - Christianity Today

The low point in the battle may have been when longtime resident Mary Crowder stood before the city council and told the Cottonwood Christian Center to “get the hell out of Cypress.” At the same meeting, her husband of 49 years spoke on the church’s behalf: “When you buy something, you ought to be able to build on it.”

Or the low point may have been when the plan was first hatched. The city of Cypress, California, would condemn a prime piece of commercial property, 18 acres the church had purchased to build a new facility, and sell the land instead to retail warehouse club Costco.

With that simple move, the city would keep the acreage on the tax rolls and it would produce millions in revenue. The church, which pays no property taxes and generates no sales taxes, could move somewhere else.

It wasn’t that simple.

The war in Cypress, which ended in February after a bitter court fight and finally an impressive land-swap, was played out on local television like the strike on Iraq—wall-to-wall coverage of bloody conflict and divided public opinion. Only this war was a lot longer—three years.

Nationwide, advocates of religious liberty have been watching the case closely. Cypress’s gambit came about the same time President Bill Clinton signed the Religious Land Use and Institutionalized Persons Act (RLUIPA), which is supposed to give churches and prison inmates additional federal protection to worship. Many wondered if, because of Cottonwood’s case, the new statute would be tested in the United States Supreme Court. Would it ultimately give churches the legal weaponry to fight local zoning rules that they feel are limiting their ministries?

Cottonwood’s battle is the most dramatic example, with a megachurch, megastore, and money-conscious politicians as players. But across the nation, churches of all sizes are engaged in high-stakes skirmishes. The debate is over zoning variances, parking spaces, drainage, setback distances from the streets—technical issues not nearly as sexy as the Cypress land-grab. But they represent a trend: churches are finding it harder to get government approval to alter their facilities or build new ones.

In many cities, churches are feeling squeezed out.

Is church growth malignant?

First Baptist Church of Castle Hills, Texas, purchased six houses across the street. The city allowed the church to tear down the houses for additional parking. Once the buildings were removed, however, the city refused to grant permits for parking.

The city also refused the church’s application to occupy the fourth floor of one of its buildings. The classroom space, like the lots, sits vacant. In a written response to a suit filed by the church, the city referred to First Baptist as “a church which seems to grow like a cancer, feeding on homes in the same way as a cancerous tumor feeds on healthy cells.” The case is still pending.

New Life Christian Fellowship in DePere, Wisconsin, petitioned for a conditional use permit to allow the church to renovate a former furniture store. A business group objected that ceding the property to the church reduced available retail space. The authorities denied the permit. One alderman wrote to the mayor, “…’meeting places’ were deleted as standard uses in the business district… . I think that says we do not want to have churches in our downtown business district.”

Petra Presbyterian Church met in space rented from a Lutheran church for six years. Now they own a former office/warehouse on four acres in Northbrook, Illinois, but Northbrook’s rules forbid churches in all but one of its 23 zones. The city says the building was not designed for crowds. So Petra’s 175 parishioners are meeting in the parking lot.

Molalla Christian Center was told by the Clackamas, Oregon, county planning director that their new 10-acre site was zoned for agricultural use, because of its prime “Aloha 1A” soil. Permits denied, although exceptions would be made for community centers, wedding facilities, golf courses, and wineries. After six months of legal maneuvering, the county relented.

When Brent Hanson petitioned the Wolverine Lake, Michigan, planning commission to convert a Bavarian-style bar into a home for his New Song Community Church, the planners said no. The area was zoned for commercial use, not churches. Never mind Hanson’s claim that they’d be a positive influence on the community.

“Churches are not wanted in residential zones because they generate too much traffic,” Hanson’s attorney Robert Tyler told the Detroit Free Press. “They’re not wanted in commercial zones because they don’t generate taxes. And they are not wanted in industrial areas because of the potential hazards to the health and safety of people.

“So where do churches go?”

Good question, one many churches are asking. After five years, a congregation in Evanston, Illinois, is still waiting for an answer.

Evanston Vineyard Christian Fellowship has met in rented facilities since Steve Nicholson and Bill Hanawalt founded it in 1976. In 1997, the congregation of 700 decided it was time to leave the local high school auditorium and find a home of their own. They located an empty office building and made plans to convert it into worship, administration, and meeting space. The building is in the business district of Evanston, an upscale North Shore suburb of Chicago. Evanston is home to Northwestern University and a large number of other non-profit entities, which, at least in part, is the rub.

Two days before the church closed on the deal, the city denied their request for a zoning variance. Hanawalt believed they could persuade Evanston otherwise and proceeded with the purchase. Evanston refused. Eventually, the church filed suit.

What really changed

“The conflict comes from historical patterns of how communities think about zoning; that’s incompatible with what churches are becoming,” Nicholson told Leadership. “The nature of church has changed and communities haven’t adapted.

“It used to be that most churches were neighborhood churches that people walked to, so the zoning codes put all these little churches in residential areas. That’s not the way church happens anymore. The church is reinventing itself. It’s bigger. It’s active. It does things all week long. And it needs parking. The church today is incompatible with residential areas.

“If the church has to move out, that leaves only commercial or industrial areas. That means the church starts fighting with the city over their prime tax-producing locations.”

The zoning law covering much of Evanston allowed some meetings—of membership associations, cultural institutions, and even religious organizations—but not “houses of worship.” In other words, the church’s attorney said, you could attend a meeting of the Masons or stage “Fiddler on the Roof,” but you couldn’t hold a worship service.

Evanston Vineyard sued on nine counts, including violations of their First Amendment rights to free speech and freedom of assembly and one violation of RLUIPA.

And they waited.

“We waited three years for the judge to make a decision, but nothing happened in that time period, nothing at all,” Nicholson said. “We plateaued in that period.”

Keeping the church focused on ministry, and off the legal battle, has been important, but not easy. “At one point, we started getting in the mode, ‘when we get the new building, we’ll do thus and so,'” said Nicholson. “After a year of that, I said, ‘Is there any way we can get creative and do that without the building?’ I wanted to make sure ministry didn’t get hung up in the legal process, because we didn’t know when we’d come out of it. We still don’t. We’ve tried to keep this off the front burner.”

And off the front pages. While reports of their dispute have not appeared as venomous as the dispute in Cypress, Evanston Vineyard has taken heat for buying the property after the city said no to their zoning change. City attorney Jack Siegel told the Chicago Tribune in 2001, “The hardship was self-created. They came and thumbed their noses at the City Council.”

“We’ve tried not to make it antagonistic more than necessary,” Nicholson responded. “We’ve tried to keep a peaceful demeanor.” And the pastor doesn’t fault city leaders for their stance. “We have to keep perspective. It’s a symptom of a society-wide thing. A lot of churches are coming into conflict with government right now because the way we do church has changed—and now we’re presenting the bill to the city. It’s not that they’re suddenly anti-God; it’s that we don’t fit the mold anymore.”

The U.S. District Court ruled in March that the city of Evanston violated Evanston Vineyard’s constitutional rights on five counts, but that the city did not violate the RLUIPA. With the suit now in the “remedy” phase, a magistrate will propose a settlement. The Vineyard refused the city’s offer, basically, to call it even. The church wants to recover damages for their court costs and rental of the school auditorium over the past five years, approximately $500,000.

Equal-opportunity opposition

Despite the lengthy court fight, Nicholson remains positive about Evanston.

“We’ve never taken it that they’re against us as a particular kind of faith. They’re pretty unbiased in their opposition to all non-profits,” Nicholson said. “I don’t think we’re being treated any better or worse than if we were Jewish or Muslim. It’s all about money.”

And neighbors, and traffic, and noise.

And it’s not just Christian churches. The town of Bedford, New York, denied a permit for a Buddhist temple. The silent meditation by its dozen or so members might prove too noisy, they said.

For four years, residents of a Waukegan, Illinois, neighborhood fought construction of a $1.6 million mosque on the basis of noise and traffic. “It wouldn’t have mattered if it was a Lutheran church, a Catholic church, or a Muslim mosque,” the president of the homeowners association told the Chicago Tribune. “What did matter was how it would impact the single-family homes next door.”

And in Newport Beach, California, a citizen’s group opposes a new Mormon Temple with a 124-foot steeple. The plan far exceeds the community’s 50-foot height restriction. The well-financed Mormon headquarters has won similar battles in court. In 2001, the church was allowed to erect a 70,000-square-foot temple in Belmont, Massachusetts, over neighbors’ objections.

Such cases are becoming the proving ground for the new federal law designed to protect religious groups from unfair land-use regulations, and are putting local zoning boards on notice.

The church’s atomic bomb

The Religious Land Use and Institutionalized Persons Act requires that local governments prove their decisions against churches are the “least restrictive means” to accomplish a “compelling government interest.” In supporting the bill, Senator Edward Kennedy said “the evidence is clear” that local laws often discriminate against religious groups.

“We have seen our BB gun replaced by an atomic bomb,” Brad Dacus, president of the Pacific Justice Institute, told Lawyers Weekly USA. The Sacramento, California-based group represents churches in such legal battles, and it’s in talks with a dozen religious groups in the San Francisco area alone that are considering RLUIPA suits. Other groups, such as the American Center for Law and Justice, founded by Pat Robertson, and The Becket Fund for Religious Liberty are also spearheading federal cases.

Richard Hammar, editor of Church Law and Tax Report, estimates 50 cases are pending in the courts now. “One of the reasons there is more litigation involving church zoning cases is that church leaders are now increasingly aware that they have a much stronger legal position than in the past, and are more likely to assert their rights in court,” Hammar told Leadership.

The California League of Cities lobbied against the law. “It basically creates a federal standard for local land use,” League attorney Bill Higgins told the San Francisco Chronicle. “It creates a big burden on decision making.”

The Pacific Justice Institute responds, it simply levels the playing field.

The battle in your backyard

The truly precedent-setting RLUIPA case, the definitive one that makes it to the U.S. Supreme Court, has yet to be tried. But lesser victories have been won under RLUIPA.

For example, Haven Shores Community Church won the right to occupy a former retail mall, which authorities in Grand Haven, Michigan, had denied.

Foothills Christian Fellowship, which wants to renovate a mall, is filing a similar suit against El Cajon, California.

And a band of 50 churches in Chicago is contending that in areas that are fully built up, the city must make exceptions and allow churches to replace existing clubs or houses. The shortage of properties, the group argues, is especially harmful to minorities and fast-growing churches. The city of Chicago will fight the suit.

One lawyers group predicts cities will be more careful to prove their claims about traffic, noise, and inconveniences before denying churches their zoning changes and special use permits.

Sometimes the mere mention of RLUIPA will make a local government rethink its actions.

In Wolverine Lake, Michigan, where leaders first refused Pastor Hanson’s request to relocate his church to a former bar, the planning commission relented, and is now proposing to rewrite their ordinances in light of the federal law.

Dalton, Georgia, which first denied a permit for Iglesia Misioneria to move into a storefront, backed down when the church threatened a RLUIPA suit.

Despite the federal law, zoning is handled mostly on the local level, and that’s where most battles are fought.

“We’re in the process of building up case law, and legal precedents are important,” former city planner and church expert Lyle Schaller told Leadership. “What’s happening across the country is piece by piece, state by state, churches are saying we need to get a definitive judicial ruling that can be the precedent so nobody else has to go down the road we’ve had to go down.”

It’s Schaller’s observation that a small, but growing number of church leaders are advocating going to court. “If you have a case that is legally defensible, go ahead and purchase the property, apply for the permits and zoning, and if you don’t get it, sue. If you don’t have a good recent case in that state, you need to establish one,” he said.

But Schaller noted, “You can go to court and you’ll probably win, but it will cost you three years and $3 million. That’s why churches back down.”

And that sets a pattern.

“When you allow the precedent of being beaten down, then the people who beat you down are prepared to beat the next one down. The question for a particular congregation is which kind of precedent do you want to establish?

“If the planning commission says, ‘Look, we’ve had three churches so far this year agree to build less than what they’re legally entitled to build. Why don’t you cooperate?’ If you agree to be beaten down, then it’s four in a row.

“With this (RLIUPA) legislation, I think the time has come for churches to stand up.”

Can’t we all just get along?

The more conventional route is the one attributed to Jesus, the blessed peacemakers. Before building or filing for permits, invite the neighbors and politicians in for coffee.

“You reduce the potential opposition simply by being neighborly and by sharing full information, by having your own ‘public hearings,'” Schaller said. “Then do the same kind of public relations with the local officials, showing by your polite politicking that you’ll make reasonable adjustments.

“You’ll want to demonstrate that you’ll be a good citizen. In this way, the cheapest way to fight is don’t fight.”

And it works.

In Wheaton, Illinois, churches are big business, according to the mayor, James Carr. But with Wheaton College atop the town’s highest point and many non-profit ministries based there, almost one-fourth of the city’s property is tax-exempt. That puts a squeeze on both city leaders and church leaders.

“Churches who wish to expand need to keep in mind what they’re doing to the tax base of our community,” Carr said. “Government is give and take, and just because you want something doesn’t mean you’ll get it.”

Especially when the neighbors fight back. “People galvanize very quickly over issues like (church expansion) and can be a formidable force before a city council.”

Carr is a member of First Presbyterian Church, which completed a $6-million addition last year. Neighbors fought it at first (“It was a little rocky,” Carr said), but the church and city successfully navigated a maze of hearings and adjustments.

Some neighbors also opposed construction of a three-story annex adjacent to College Church in Wheaton, which included demolition of several old houses for additional parking. But the church, Carr, and the city negotiated an agreement that included digging an underground tunnel from the existing complex to the new building which they placed across the street.

Not all objections can be satisfied with hearings and adjustments, however. Residents in the blocks behind Wheaton Bible Church feared the burgeoning church’s expansion would ultimately claim their homes. They organized protest meetings.

The landlocked church now plans to relocate to 40 acres in a nearby municipality, and will eventually become Wheaton Bible Church of Carol Stream, Illinois.

Somewhat welcome wagon

These days the pastoral staff at Cottonwood Christian Center is busy with their relocation plans. They’re meeting with architects and contractors, planning how best to situate a new 4,700-seat auditorium on the 29 acres adjacent to a golf course they purchased in exchange for the 18 acres the city of Cypress wants for Costco. (By the way, the church came out $1-million to the good in the swap.)

And while the neighbors (and Mr. and Mrs. Crowder) are divided in their opinion of the church, the mayor seems glad to have the deal done. “Welcome to Cypress!” he exclaimed, once the papers were signed.

In Evanston, meanwhile, the Vineyard continues to meet at a local high school, until a court-appointed arbitrator determines the amount of damages the church will receive and final permits are issued for their renovation. The church met in their office building for a Good Friday service, but Pastor Nicholson said they’re waiting for the last judgment before they move in.

“It takes a long time to get justice in America.”

Eric Reed is managing editor of Leadership.