A mural of George Floyd, created by church member Ella Endo, adorns the exterior of Calvary, embracing the cultural landscape of the congregation’s location. Photo: Calvary Lutheran Church.

For years, leaders of Calvary Lutheran Church, Minneapolis, wrestled with the realities of an aging building, deferred maintenance and dwindling rental income. Sarah Shepherd, who first came to Calvary in 2005 and later served as congregation president, remembers the exhaustion of midnight maintenance calls: “We had a whole calling tree just to figure out who would empty buckets when the roof leaked. It felt like a kairos moment — we knew something had to change, but we didn’t know what.”

Financial struggles weren’t new. In the 1990s, Calvary received a $2 million bequest. Instead of securing its future through an endowment, the congregation poured the gift into ministry through the Crossroads Foundation, bridging Calvary with the Urban Arts Academy, a small, nonprofit school that offered an affordable preschool, after-school programming and summer arts education. That commitment to mission set the tone for future decisions around property and assets: Calvary would not focus on mere survival but would take a risk to help its neighborhood thrive.

By 2020, the church’s future felt more precarious than ever. Urban Arts, Calvary’s anchor tenant, closed its doors in late 2019. Months later, the pandemic struck, shuttering other renters and leaving the congregation’s finances strained. Then came the murder of George Floyd, only blocks away from Calvary.

Susan Olsen, who joined Calvary in 2018 and served as president during this time, recalls how everything converged: “We had scheduled listening sessions to talk about our building and our future. Instead, our first session — just days after George Floyd’s death — became a space to sit with one another’s grief and fear. That was when it became clear: our work wasn’t just about property. It was about presence.”

The congregation doubled down on its hospitality and outreach. They opened bathrooms to protesters and medics. They offered sanctuary if police raids came. They scaled up their food shelf overnight, serving hundreds instead of dozens. “If we’re going to go down,” one leader said at the time, “let’s go down swinging.” Uncertainty about its future didn’t stop Calvary from taking action. It propelled them into bold acts of hospitality and justice.

Once the protests subsided, the facilities task force explored property possibilities. Conversations with developers, nonprofits and other congregations led Calvary to Trellis, a community development corporation committed to deeply affordable housing. At first, Trellis proposed developing only part of the property. But in a leap of faith, Calvary asked: “Would you want the whole campus?” It did.

What followed was a season of listening, negotiating and building trust. Congregants grieved the thought of leaving their sacred space. They worshiped in borrowed sanctuaries. They held parking lot meetings in folding chairs. Yet through it all, the community kept showing up — for each other and for their neighbors. The result exceeded anything members could have imagined.

Trellis not only built affordable housing on Calvary’s property, it invited the congregation back in. Through a nearly unheard-of 40-year rent-free lease that was part of the negotiated purchase agreement, thanks to the Rev. Hans Lee, then Calvary’s pastor, and Josh Moberg, congregation council president, who were instrumental in shepherding this process, Calvary returned to its historic home without financial burden. The sanctuary was transformed into a community space, updated with care and attention to its sacred history. The food shelf was expanded. Community spaces were intentionally designed with Calvary’s ministries in mind. Trellis sees Calvary as a core partner that anchors the outreach and service the neighborhood relies on.  

The Rev. Jenny Sung, who began her call at Calvary following the crucial work of the Revs. Kjell Ferris and Angela Fairbanks Jacobson, interim pastors of the congregation, calls it “a true partnership built on trust, faith and shared vision. We don’t own the space legally, but culturally it is ours together. It is a testimony to what God can do with a people willing to risk.”

Today, Calvary is not simply surviving but is anchoring a vital community hub where worship, housing and neighborhood services intertwine. What once felt like scarcity has blossomed into abundance.

Emily Bouvier, who first came to Calvary in 2011, sees continuity across the decades: “This place has always carried stories — from the days of Urban Arts to the uprising after George Floyd. What’s beautiful now is that the stories aren’t over. The building has changed, but it’s still Calvary. It still holds memory and possibility.”

Calvary’s story is not just about creative property stewardship. It is about discovering who the congregation was called to be in uncertain times. It is about letting go so that something new can be born. Even in uncertainty, God provided — not just enough but abundance beyond what members could have imagined.  

‍Property Stewardship Lessons:

• Stewardship is about mission as well as maintenance. Even when leaks, deferred maintenance and dwindling rental income seem overwhelming, continue asking, “How can this property continue to serve our neighbors?”  

• Letting go can open the door to unseen possibilities. Relaxing sole control of the property can create new possibilities for partnership.  

• Partnership multiplies impact. Engage consultants, network with other congregations and work with community-serving organizations to find new ways grow your mission.  

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