Community Login
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Prince of Peace Lutheran Church in Roseville, Minn., is no ordinary church campus. Beyond the sanctuary and classrooms, nestled in green space once considered “unused,” stand tiny homes — warm, welcoming dwellings that are part of a growing vision called the Sacred Settlement. What makes this settlement remarkable is not just the presence of homes but the spirit of community that breathes through them. As Alyssa Herrig, minister of family fun, faith formation, and community engagement, put it, “This isn’t just housing. This is home — and our congregation is part of it.”
The story began long before the first tiny home was set on the land. In the 1950s, Prince of Peace acquired farmland, some of which was given away to build city parks and roads. By the late 1990s, the congregation had purchased additional acreage in anticipation of growth that never materialized. For years the land sat dormant, occasionally used for outdoor worship or child care.
In 2019, as members studied homelessness in their district, they faced a sobering reality: more than 300 children in their local schools were unstably housed. When a longtime member left a bequest of $750,000, parishioners formed a committee to discern how their land and resources might truly serve their neighbors. Conversations deepened. Ideas for shelters and affordable housing were sketched, debated and prayed over.
Even before plans solidified, the church’s parking lot had become a refuge for folks experiencing housing instability. Jennifer*, who lived in a converted bus, was referred by the local police department’s social worker to Prince of Peace, where she could park her bus-home safely. She became part of the Prince of Peace community — attending worship sometimes, but more often building relationships through conversation and companionship.

When Settled Inc, a non-profit taking an innovative approach to homelessness learned about Jennifer’s* need for an insulated home to stay warm in the winter, they offered a tiny home to replace her bus. “We didn’t have a master plan,” recalled Michael Stetzler, who was then council president. “We were just trying to care for Jennifer*, one day at a time.” That single act of hospitality — trading a bus for a tiny home — planted the first seeds of the Sacred Settlement.
Sacred Settlements are communal housing arrangements in which churches offer permanent, supportive housing by placing tiny homes on excess land. Residents have a covenant with the congregation to cultivate community through shared meals, work and property management. As part of the model, Prince of Peace invited another neighbor in need of housing to live on their land, as well as a family that committed to living in community with residents as accompaniers. For residents, the tiny homes offer stability, dignity and safety. But the real gift is community, said Kristin Bloxham, office administrator.
The homes are intentionally not plumbed, so neighbors come into the church for daily needs, preventing isolation and creating natural connections. This creates daily opportunities for relationship between Sacred Settlement residents and the congregation. Residents contribute to community life — from brewing coffee on Sunday mornings to cooking at monthly dinners.
“This is not a program,” Herrig emphasized. “This is relationship. [Residents] are not apart from us — they’re with us. And that changes all of us.”
At the heart of it all is grace. Rent agreements exist but are undergirded by a deeper commitment: no one loses their home because of a mistake or a missed payment. “We’re pushing against a narrative many of our neighbors carry — that if they mess up, they’ll be cast out,” Bloxham reflected. “Here, grace holds the story together.”
The work has not been easy, and there have been bumps along the road for both residents and the congregation. Trust takes time, volunteers are stretched and not all members were fully onboard with the model. But leaders like Andrew Hannesh, who now serves on council, see the settlement as part of the church’s call to be faithful in the world. “We’re not just sending resources out of the building,” he said. “We’re doing the ministry here — with and alongside our neighbors. That changes what it means to be church.”

Although Prince of Peace felt called to Sacred Settlement work, not all their neighbors were excited about the new ministry. A cease-and-desist letter from the city arrived in 2023, and the congregation found itself at a crossroads. Instead of retreating, they stepped forward. Members spoke at city council meetings, hosted open houses, and invited neighbors to a pop-up carnival where people could see and hear what was happening. Nearly all feedback was positive. “Grace allowed us to be ignorant for a while,” Stetzler admitted. “But then grace helped us learn how to do this faithfully.”
Through hearings, zoning challenges and long hours of discernment, the church clarified its vision: this was not a shelter, not transitional housing, but permanent homes with lasting community.
On any given day at Prince of Peace, you might find a resident tending the church garden, the congregation participating in a candle-making workshop, or neighbors gathered for dinner where laughter is as present as the food. The settlement has reshaped assumptions within the congregation. One resident is pursuing a second bachelor’s degree. Another found employment while still contributing meals and hospitality at church events. The community’s gifts are not only welcomed but celebrated.
"People used to worry, ‘What if something gets stolen?’” Bloxham said. “But now our building is safer because people are here around the clock. More than that, it’s alive with community.”
At Prince of Peace, housing has become more than shelter. It has become a vibrant extension of home — for everyone.