Since Virginia’s Faith in Housing law passed in April, I’ve watched something really interesting happen. Though I think everyone anticipated this bill would kick off new projects (and it likely will), the most immediate impact has been something that surprised me: existing projects that view this as an opportunity to pivot their plans.

I now know of two separate projects here in Richmond, one a church and one a nonprofit, whose redevelopment plans have hit some speed bumps. That’s brought up the real possibility of rethinking their plans and shaping them around Virginia’s Faith in Housing law.

I’ve written about how groundbreaking Virginia’s law is for faith-based housing, but I was thinking about this in terms of what the law allows and what kind of projects it will emerge from it.

What I did not consider was that it can also be used as a bargaining chip to make existing projects better.

So how is this manifesting? Let’s look at two redevelopment plans here in Richmond.

In both, the story is just about the same. Keep in mind that these plans are currently in flux, so my telling is from what I’ve heard through the grapevine and found in local media and may have changed yet again by the time you read this.

First, Seventh Street Christian Church.

A few years ago, the congregation realized they were pouring too much money into maintenance costs for their old building, so they began exploring different options, including selling the property and redeveloping it. The original project proposal began with 72 homes in a mix of townhomes and condos, as well as saving a portion of the original building for a coffee shop or other community space. Through the special use permit process, the original plan has been negotiated down repeatedly, and is now well under 30 townhomes the last I heard.

The second example is the Virginia Home, a nonprofit home for 130 adults with permanent physical disabilities. They are in the process of moving to a new facility outside of the city, and in that move will redevelop their existing building into apartments (a plan in jeopardy itself) while selling a piece of land a block away to a developer. That land a block away is the one in question, where they were initially hoping to build 31 townhomes and which last I heard was negotiated down to around 20.

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NIMBYs negotiate in bad faith, because they want nothing.

Both of these projects suffer from a tale as old as time: Development gets proposed. A few very loud neighbors say, “it’s too much density! We’re not against housing, it’s just that this is too much!” The project comes down in scope to meet their demands, but it isn’t enough. It’s still too much. So there is another round of engagement and compromise, but it’s still too much. Ultimately it gets dragged out over years, becomes incredibly expensive, and runs out the clock until someone runs out of time or money and the whole thing goes under.

In both cases here in Richmond, the congregation, the nonprofit, and their development partners heard out those concerns and compromised. This article about the Virginia Home project actually quotes neighbors as saying they want closer to 20 units. But, of course, when they actually gave in and cut the number of homes from 30 to the low 20s, it wasn’t enough, and the city councillor has indicated she will likely vote against the project anyways.

Not to mention that the objections have made the projects demonstrably worse: the Seventh Street project was originally going to include a number of condos selling for around $200k, and include a coffee shop/community space. Now, at best we might get two dozen luxury townhomes priced over a million dollars.

So then the question becomes: will negotiation ever work?

Of course, the answer in many cases is no. The few loudest voices that are opposed to these projects will never be satiated. They will always demand more concessions, because ultimately what they want is nothing. They want things to stay the same, and running out the clock serves that end. Ultimately, they negotiate in bad faith and the goal posts shift endlessly because they have absolutely no incentive to come to an agreement.

So what if we forced their hand?

Can Faith in Housing be used as a bargaining chip?

As I mentioned earlier, both these projects are at a crossroads, where they’ve compromised so much that the value of continuing has come into question. While they progressed, however, Virginia passed SB 388 (aka the Faith in Housing Act) which will allow faith organizations and nonprofits to build on their property by right.

I won’t go into too much detail, but by combining the law’s base density of 20 units/acre plus transit and contextual bonuses, both the Seventh Street project and the Virginia Home project could realistically get more units by-right through SB 388 than they are currently asking for in their special use permits. And not marginally, either: both projects have been negotiated down to ~20 homes, but could now get between 50-70 units by-right (depending on how certain provisions are interpreted, and so long as 60% of them were affordable).

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From what I’ve heard, the chatter internally, amongst neighborhood groups, and with city councillors has shifted to discuss what happens if the special use permits don’t go through. One city councillor has tried to inform the groups opposed that should their opposition sink the project in its current iteration, they may have little to no control over the next version of the project. It could be a 4-story apartment building with a mixed-use ground floor and 70 apartments, and they would have no ability to stop it. The horror!

Now, I’m not a die-hard YIMBY and I’m not sure that that project would be appropriate for the neighborhood, nor am I sure it would pencil with the affordability requirements. But the project doesn’t actually need to get built, SB 388 doesn’t actually have to get activated for it to have value in this scenario.

All it needs to do is serve as a foil of what could happen.

Rather than making the negotiations a false choice of change vs no change, it allows them to become a productive choice of two positives.

Which of these two projects would you prefer in your neighborhood?

For those of us on the pro-housing side, it’s really easy to get frustrated and wish we could blow it all up and build whatever we want by-right. Certainly that’d be a better world overall, but I do believe there is some value in building to the needs of the neighborhood and hearing what they want. Congregations want to serve, they want to enhance their neighborhoods, and they want to do good in their communities.

The problem, however, is always that the loudest voices who are most afraid of change dominate the conversation and have no incentive to work towards productive change. Without a clear alternative outcome, people’s fears dominate and we cannot come to a conclusion. The Faith in Housing Act puts more cards in their hands. Ultimately, whether they choose to use those cards is less important than the fact that everyone knows they have them.

Maybe that’ll tilt the game to be a little more fair.

Eli Smith is the Director of the Faith-Based Housing Initiative. He is a recent graduate of Dartmouth College, where he studied Religion, with a focus on the faith-based housing movement.

Hey everyone!

Over the last few months, I’ve had the incredible opportunity to appear on some of my favorite podcasts to talk about the work we’re doing at the Faith-Based Housing Initiative. Each of these was incredibly fun and have such gracious and incredible hosts, I highly recommend you go check them out!

1. Messy City: Seeking Faith-Based Solutions to Housing

The Messy City

Seeking Faith-Based Solutions to Housing

Every so often, an idea comes along that makes so much sense it makes you wonder - why haven’t we been talking more about this? In that vein comes today’s guest, Eli Smith, who is pioneering something called the Faith-Based Housing Initiative…

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4 months ago · 2 likes · 1 comment · Kevin

Messy City has been one of my favorite podcasts for a long time, so I was incredibly honored when Kevin asked me to come on the show.

Kevin and I explored the fascinating juncture of three major issues that drive our mission: the struggles facing modern faith institutions, the societal epidemic of loneliness, and our desperate need for meaningful, community-based housing. We also talked about how our FBHI cohorts are offering a hopeful glimpse into the future by helping congregations navigate the complexities of development.

2. The Bottom-Up Revolution: Building Community On Church Land Again

I joined Tiffany on the Strong Towns Bottom-Up Revolution podcast to talk about how churches can transition from aging, underused buildings to everyday community spaces.

We dug deep into a topic I think about all the time: the tension between the modern “commuter church” and the historic, deeply rooted parish model. We also discussed how helping congregations gain the language and tools to work with developers and local officials completely shifts their perspective. Instead of defaulting to standard, monolithic apartment blocks, thoughtful design is leading these congregations toward pocket neighborhoods, incremental development, and shared spaces that truly heal neighborhoods.

3. St. Kolbe Studios: Yes in God’s Backyard

The Saint Kolbe Studios Podcast

Yes in God’s Backyard: Eli Smith on the Faith-Based Housing Initiative

Joe Coleman sits down with Eli Smith, Director of the Faith-Based Housing Initiative, to talk about one of Joe’s favorite topics—and then some. Churches across America are sitting on acres of underutilized land, and FBHI is training congregations to see that land not as a liability but as a mission opportunity…

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4 months ago · 3 likes · 1 comment · Joe Coleman

Lastly, I sat down with Joe Coleman to talk about why congregations have quietly accumulated so much land over the decades and why the current housing crisis is finally prompting them to view that land as a profound mission opportunity.

Perhaps most interesting, we covered some of the politics of the YIGBY movement (and the broader pro-housing movement), and why it almost never falls along the partisan lines we often assume are so deeply entrenched.

Go and give these a listen, and we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled programming next week!

Development projects are scary. They often take years, millions of dollars, an incredible amount of commitment and drive, and a terrifying amount of risk. Congregations are rightfully intimidated by this process, and even exploring what to do with their land is a daunting task before we even put pen to paper.

The Faith-Based Housing Initiative exists to help congregations through this process so that they’re prepared for it, but at the end of the day, education can only take you to the water’s edge. So, how should a congregation approach taking a jump into the deep end? Where should they start?

As an avid incrementalist, you might not be surprised by my answer to these questions: Start small!

I have become a huge advocate for doing the smallest, easiest project you can work on today, all while keeping your eye on the prize of the big, transformative project. This is partially from a practical standpoint—even the most successful development can take years and involves a lot of waiting around, so what can you do in the meantime?

But ultimately, the reason for my approach is that it strengthens your confidence that you can achieve something great for your congregation. When congregations start small by renovating their commercial kitchen and renting it out, or by leasing spare office space, they are achieving extra income while also building the confidence that transformational change is possible.

A Quick Case Study

Before we dive into the practical side of this, I want to quickly illustrate a great example from our friends over at New Chapter Ventures and a congregation they’re working with in Salisbury, NC.

Like many churches in a similar spot, the congregation began their process by looking at the empty field next to the church and asking themselves what it could become. Through a process of engaging their community, they discovered a need for workforce housing—specifically for teachers. Their vision has become one of a “teacher village” on their 3-acre field, an incredible vision that serves a very particular local need.

That vision will likely take many years to accomplish. As a result, their starting move was to identify their empty education wing as the next achievable project. They renovated it into office space, then rented it out to a local nonprofit that was looking for a home. This brought in income, financial stability, and the confidence that they could develop property. All the while, they’ve been developing their financial models and designs to eventually bring the teacher village to life.

I love this example for so many reasons, especially because they have continued developing their vision and moving towards the big project. The small project is not one to be dismissed, however, as it was a vital first step. So, what are some lessons we can take from this?

1. Starting small helps you work out the kinks

Starting small helps you answer the questions that you don’t even know to be asking yet.

• Is your volunteer staff up to the task?

• Do your current committees work well together?

• Are your financial systems working properly?

These are all relatively simple questions, and the answers often aren’t rocket science. But as the classic saying goes, you don’t know what you don’t know. It’s better to realize you have a blind spot when working on a small project where the stakes aren’t as high.

This is something I really appreciate about the incrementalist approach: it acknowledges that humans are flawed and mistakes are inevitable. That’s not a bad thing; mistakes are necessary learning opportunities. But it’s a lot harder to learn when your mistake has multi-million-dollar consequences. In big development projects, even the smallest oversight can jeopardize serious amounts of time and money. If your project is just renting out spare office space, those early mistakes make your organization stronger and better prepared so you don’t repeat them on a larger scale.

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2. Starting small helps clarify your mission

Starting small also helps you clarify your mission early, and pivot if you need to. Again, we don’t know what we don’t know. On the road to solving one problem, many congregations and community organizations stumble across others and need to adjust their plans.

It’s a lot harder to turn around a giant cargo ship than a speedboat. Almost all organizations begin their life as a speedboat, and gradually build up to cargo ship size as their momentum grows. But that requires clarity of direction. As the risk of tiring out the metaphor, you’re not going to reach your destination if there are multiple people at the helm, all steering the ship in different directions.

By starting small, you give yourself the agility to pivot. Maybe the needs of your community are slightly different than you thought they were, or maybe you’re spot on. Either way, you can use that information to better target the needs you’re trying to serve. Don’t be afraid to pivot—if your initial assumption turns out to be false, you can always change direction.

3. Starting small builds momentum and self-confidence

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, starting small builds the self-confidence that we can actually do this thing.

Development is long and arduous. If the congregation doesn’t have confidence in its ability to succeed, it will be a painful journey and likely an unsuccessful one. When you achieve those early, small-scale successes, you not only work out the kinks and clarify your mission, but you also gain a much better sense of what your team is actually prepared for.

Maybe that means doing a couple more small projects, or phasing your development project to better suit your next bite-sized chunk. Or maybe you’ll feel that it was easy and you’re ready to jump fully into the deep end. Either way, you’ll know exactly what you’re capable of and what that next step looks like. Cultivating that confidence is of ultimate importance, as it will keep you guided toward your North Star and get you through the hard times.

Oftentimes, the simple tasks aren’t the exciting ones. We get excited by the prospect of a huge master plan with beautiful renderings, and we chase the shiny object rather than seeing the small, attainable opportunities staring us in the face.

Chasing the shiny object is not a bad thing—especially if you are blessed with a significant amount of land and the ability to transform your neighborhood for the better. But by starting with small, manageable projects, you make it far more likely that you’ll succeed in the long run and ultimately make your grand vision a much better one.

That doesn’t mean losing sight of the incredible impact your land can have on the community, but when it comes time to execute, remember that you don’t have to jump straight into the deep end. Wade into the shallows first. Your congregation, your community, and your future master plan will be all the stronger for it.

Eli Smith is the Director of the Faith-Based Housing Initiative. He is a recent graduate of Dartmouth College, where he studied Religion, with a focus on the faith-based housing movement.

This article is a guest post from Loren Richmond Jr.

A home is more than shelter. It’s the foundation for work, family, and belonging. In my community, a local housing authority is seeking approval to build affordable housing on a 3.7-acre parcel of land that has sat vacant for nearly forty years. Despite its proximity to public transit, schools, parks, and retail, some neighbors are pushing back—as they often do when affordable housing is proposed.

I support the project. I’ve contacted my city council member and offered to speak at the public hearing. Not simply because I’m a pastor or because I’ve worked in housing, but because I know firsthand what stable, affordable housing can make possible.

When I was a child, my family lived in public housing.

It was only about three years, but it came at a crucial time. After my family moved to Colorado, the six of us—my parents, three sisters, and me—first crammed into a 1,000-square-foot house with my grandparents. After a few months, we moved into an even smaller rental: a two-bedroom, one-bath, 600-square-foot house. I shared a room with my three sisters, two sets of bunk beds lined against the wall. It worked until winter, when the cold weather forced us indoors and the walls seemed to close in. It quickly became clear that 600 square feet wasn’t enough space for a growing family of six.

Before the start of sixth grade, we were approved for a public housing unit. It wasn’t glamorous or gigantic—three bedrooms, two bathrooms, just under 800 square feet—but it was right next to a park and gave us stability for three years. Then the opportunity came for my parents to purchase their first home: a small bungalow in Denver’s West Highlands neighborhood. It cost $80,000—a price almost unthinkable today, when that same home would be worth nearly ten times more.

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There are two key takeaways from this story.

The first is straightforward but vital: housing must be affordable if families are ever going to move from survival to stability.

Without that foundation, financial sustainability and long-term security remain out of reach. For my family, public housing was the bridge that made the impossible possible. We didn’t walk away from that small Denver bungalow with a fortune, but the home’s increasing value gave my parents a foothold—a tangible asset that allowed them to dream beyond the next rent check. It provided breathing room, dignity, and the chance to plan for the future. That modest step into ownership was not just about property—it was about possibility.

The second, and perhaps more important lesson, is harder to measure but even more powerful. Stability changes trajectories. Because of the security public housing gave us, my parents transitioned into homeownership, and all four of us children graduated high school and went on to college. For me, that foundation opened the door to a graduate degree and a life of service—first as a pastor, then as a chaplain, and even for a season working directly in public housing. Today, my wife—a registered nurse—our two kids, and I are rooted in our community, contributing to its health and vitality. I am, quite literally, a success story from public housing. And my family’s journey is living proof of how transformative a safe, stable, affordable home can be—not only for individuals, but for generations and for the communities they help to strengthen.

My story is one reason I’ve become convinced that churches have an important role to play in addressing our housing crisis. Across North America, thousands of congregations own underused buildings and vacant land.

While many see these properties primarily as financial liabilities, they may actually represent one of the church’s greatest opportunities for mission.

I’ve watched congregations transform unused land into affordable housing, supportive housing for young adults aging out of foster care, and mixed-use developments that allow churches not only to remain in their neighborhoods but to become indispensable to them. Churches cannot solve the housing crisis alone. But they can be faithful stewards of the land and buildings entrusted to them.

Sometimes loving our neighbors begins not with asking, “What programs should we start?” but, “What resources has God already placed in our hands?”

This article is adapted from my forthcoming book, Church as Community Hub: Sharing Spaces to Help Neighborhoods Thrive.

Loren Richmond Jr is a pastor, chaplain, and podcaster writing at the intersection of faith, culture, and church renewal. He calls himself a “lowercase-e evangelical,” exploring theology, discipleship, and how historic faith speaks today—especially why the church still matters.

By 2040, the proportion of Americans over the age of 65 will have nearly doubled from where it was in 2000. This demographic shift presents serious challenges, from strained medical systems to a looming Social Security crisis. But one of the most immediate issues is the severe lack of housing for seniors.

Already, a growing number of seniors are ending up on the streets, struggling to balance their fixed incomes with rising housing costs. Many support programs for low-income seniors fail to include housing assistance, leaving them vulnerable.

We have both a lack of welfare support and a lack of housing stock for the seniors who need it most.

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A Looming Crisis

The warning signs are already here. Today, a greater proportion of the homeless population is over 50 than ever before. The number of senior households spending more than half their income on housing has doubled since 2000, reaching nearly 12 million. A third of all senior households are considered "cost-burdened," meaning they spend more than 30% of their income on housing.

These saddening statistics are endless.

The consequences go beyond financial strain. Housing instability exacerbates health issues, making it harder to access medical care and worsening chronic conditions. Without a safe, stable home, seniors are at greater risk of premature death. These are real people struggling to find stability in the years that should be their retirement.

It doesn’t have to be this way. It shouldn’t be this way.

We desperately need better housing options for seniors—and religious institutions are uniquely positioned to help.

A Shortage of Housing Options

This problem largely stems from what kind of housing is available. Much of the national conversation around housing affordability focuses on first-time homebuyers, but the same challenges apply to older adults looking to downsize. Smaller, more affordable homes are increasingly scarce, making it difficult for seniors to find housing that suits their needs. Even those with financial resources may struggle to locate an appropriately sized home in their community.

For seniors on a tighter budget, the lack of smaller, affordable housing options can force them to move out of the neighborhoods they love. In an ever-increasing number of cases, the lack of supply leaves them on the streets.

This crisis is exacerbated by our typical approach to housing seniors: segregating them into age-restricted communities or expensive assisted living facilities. These options often isolate older adults from the broader community, limiting social interactions and exacerbating a loneliness epidemic. Many of these developments are car-dependent, further restricting access to daily necessities and social engagement for those with limited mobility.

Furthermore, they’re expensive. A recent Harvard analysis found that only 13% of seniors could afford to move into an assisted living facility without tapping into their assets. That leaves seniors with few good choices: stay in a home that may not be suitable for aging in place, pay a premium for an isolating senior community, or face housing insecurity.

We need better options.

What Religious Institutions Can Do

Addressing this crisis requires a shift in the kinds of housing we build. One of the best opportunities to lead this shift comes from religious institutions. Many houses of worship have the land, the long-term perspective, and congregations members in need of housing solutions.

The market has failed to deliver for the elderly, both in terms of community and in terms of price. Religious organizations can deliver on both of these counts—they’ve already got the land, and by their very nature are focused on building community.

First, the land. Land costs are one of the biggest barriers to affordable housing development. Though exact ownership structures vary greatly by denomination and by religion, many houses of worship own the site that they sit on, often with underutilized parking lots, vacant buildings, or open space. One of the core costs of housing is the land which it sits on. If you want to bring down the costs for occupants, having cheaper land is a good start.

Second, the community. Religious institutions have long been at the heart of social connection. Housing built by faith communities has the opportunity to foster intergenerational relationships and strong social ties. Instead of isolating seniors, churches could develop small villages or pocket neighborhoods that integrate different age groups and socioeconomic backgrounds. A development might include smaller homes for seniors alongside family housing, creating a more diverse and connected community.

This model isn’t theoretical—it’s already working in pocket neighborhoods across the country. Houses of worship are in a prime position to expand these efforts.

Moving Forward

We need a new approach to housing our aging population—one that is both affordable and dignified. No one should have to choose between isolation and homelessness. By increasing housing diversity, designing for community, and leveraging existing land, we can create better outcomes for seniors across the country.

Faith-based organizations are uniquely positioned to take action. They already have the resources, the mission, and the community engagement to make a difference. The next step is turning that potential into reality.

That step definitely isn’t easy—but that’s exactly why this blog exists. We’re sharing success stories, strategies, and lessons from the faith-based housing movement to help houses of worship take that first step towards improving their community. If you’re ready to be part of the solution, follow along, share, and let’s build something better together!

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Eli Smith is the Director of the Faith-Based Housing Initiative. He is a recent graduate of Dartmouth College, where he studied Religion, with a focus on the faith-based housing movement.

Written by Topher Thomas.

This article is a guest piece by Topher Thomas, a builder in Durham, NC.

The church, long a hallowed space of transcendence and pursuit of justice, finds itself in steep and steady decline.

Church attendance dwindles year after year. Churches are closing their doors, because they simply cannot afford to keep them open anymore. It is much a crisis of faith as it is a crisis of financial sustainability. The church in America is dying, at least the church as it is. Maybe this death is making way for something more, something different.

At the center of the Christian tradition, the tradition I locate myself within is a spiritual imperative to care for the marginalized. We find here a God who could not be God without us, demonstrating to us our inherent divinity. Maybe in this death, as the old way decomposes into the soil, new ways to achieve that imperative and to embody that God are ready to grow.

One such way, a simple way, is the provision of shelter.

Churches own vast amounts of land, and land in our society is a commodity, a valuable commodity. For better and worse, ours is an economic system that thrives on commodification, extraction, and inequality particularly and most acutely through land. I wonder, can the church, in its pursuit of providing housing for the vulnerable, become a catalyst for a different economic order?

Can it embody a redemptive capitalism, a praxis that restores rather than depletes? Can it be a place where the logic of domination, inherent in Western thought, is challenged? Can it be a witness to a different way of being in the world, a way marked by love, justice, and shalom?

My heart says the church can be all the things listed above. It can do so through radical development. Radical in that it faces the reality of financial sustainability without sacrificing on mission. We can’t reside purely in the theological, we must take great care to have good pro formas, budgets, projections, and we must allow our theology to inform our economics.

This is not a rejection of profit, but it is a reorientation of priorities.

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The church’s mission is not driven by the relentless pursuit of wealth accumulation, but in pursuit of creating a shared and hopeful future. Radically upending the typical modes of exchange, exploitation, and debt. With this posture, the church possesses a unique opportunity to demonstrate in its use of land a different economic model. A model that prioritizes people over profit, community over competition, and, critically, doing so while exercising financial prudence.

Stewardship, after all, is about managing resources wisely. Financial sustainability, however, should be pursued not as an end in itself but as a means to an end—not merely to the end of just affordable, quality housing, but to housing that seeks human flourishing.

The church can become a catalyst for economic development within its community.

By investing in faith-based housing, it can and will create jobs, stimulate local economies, and strengthen neighborhoods. This is not about building houses, though that is needed, but about building communities. It is about creating spaces where people can thrive, where they can experience a sense of belonging and purpose. And isn’t that “good news”?

Of course, the road to redemptive capitalism is fraught with challenges. There are systemic barriers to overcome, and the temptation to compromise on values is ever present. But the church has the power to be a beacon of hope, a living example of a different way of doing business.

Development is not an execution of perfection. It is about incremental betterment. There are no shortcuts. It is hard work.

By embracing its role as a steward of resources and a champion of the marginalized, the church can demonstrate that it is possible to build a more just and equitable world, one house at a time.

A few years ago, I started a homebuilding company called Coram Houses.

“Coram” came from a theological phrase, “Coram Deo” … meaning “in the presence of God”. I was captivated by what it meant to live in the presence of God. What it grew to mean to me was to be present to reality, to be present to what is. We do live in a world shaped by deep systemic inequalities. The political and economic powers that currently exist perpetuate these inequalities.

My small response to these infinite problems was to share. It was to build a small house in my backyard as an invitation into a different way to be in the world. My small response turned into a company that builds small houses in small yards to share a thing we’ve shared all along. We even embarked on the journey of building small houses in a church’s backyard.

Much of what I’ve written here is inspired by that church. They faced the dual reality of limited funds coming in and neighbors in need of affordable housing. They recognized the acres of land they had. Acres used by grass, and beetles, and dragonflies, but in the face of human suffering and the opportunity to alleviate some of it, this church is stepping up.

This moment in time is an invitation for all of us who see the need to step up, and may we heed the invitation.

Topher Thomas is the founder of Coram Houses, an ADU builder in Durham, North Carolina.

This article is part two in a series by Evan Magen.

In Part One of this series on the nuances of church growth and faith-based housing, we challenged the fatalism of decline— the sense that decline is simply what happens to churches now, and nothing can stop it. But for many churches, fatalism only comes after the false hope of revitalization. Many churches lose members and give up after being sold promises of a turnaround.

There is a cottage industry of consultants and coaches that promise growth to struggling churches. Congregations are always one program, one training, one mission statement away from reversing decline—for a fee. I worry that faith-based housing will become another revitalization program. If faith-based housing fails in its mission, it will not be because churches are unwilling to build. It will be because we made promises that housing can’t keep.

There are two commonly believed channels through which faith-based housing spurs church growth:

1. The Captive Audience

If you want more people at church, why not surround the church with more people? I have never seen a faith-based housing project with membership or attendance requirements for residents. But I have heard a soft-spoken, “Well, if they are already here, maybe they would like to come.”

2. The Signal

Here, the congregation would never pressure or proselytize a resident in their housing to attend church. That would be bad manners. Instead, the presence of faith-based housing is meant to attract a certain kind of person to attend the church. Someone, perhaps younger, who cares about social impact and justice, and they come to rally because of the church’s good work. Or perhaps someone who is wary of churches, but faith-based housing distinguishes this church as different.

Unfortunately, it does not work.

Church mission, whether it is housing or another cause, is not a direct channel for church membership growth. People do not join churches to volunteer or to accomplish their housing advocacy. There are plenty of other places that offer those opportunities. People join churches because of an encounter with God. That’s really it.

That encounter takes many forms— a moment of unexpected relief, a community that felt like home, a question or calling that doesn’t go away. But housing advocacy, on its own, is not that encounter.

And yet, I believe faith-based housing can grow the church: always deeper, sometimes wider. Through discerning and building faith-based housing, a congregation clarifies its values and mission. It takes collective study, collective spiritual exploration, and increased involvement with the church and relationship building to make faith-based housing happen. Those are metrics of church growth, but one new person may not have been involved.

That might be a cop out from the church growth debate. But if you ask any congregation consultant or church planter, clear values and vision sustained through the community’s worship and hospitality create the conditions for church growth.

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These necessary conditions for growth are the same conditions for successful faith-based housing.

But while growth conditions can change, faith-based housing embodies them in the built environment of the campus. The physical structure makes the congregation’s values legible in a way a mission statement never quite can.

This is a different channel for growth: it is not that housing itself attracts people, but it shares the same foundation necessary for growth. They are complementary, not transactional processes.

Ultimately, we cannot control who walks through the church door or how the Spirit moves. But if a church has prayed and studied how to live out its values in difficult and disciplined ways, that community creates space for growth, both from within and outside themselves.

Does housing grow the church? Yes.

Will it add more members to the church? I’m not sure.

I think any other answer would be disingenuous. A church that builds housing because it expects a membership bump is building for the wrong reasons. A church that builds because it cannot imagine doing otherwise— that church is already growing.

Evan Bille Magen lives in Durham, NC and serves as the Director of Missions and Community Outreach at the Kirk of Kildaire. He is a recent graduate of Union Presbyterian Seminary and candidate for ordination in the Presbyterian Church (PCUSA). You can find his Substack “Public Goods” here.

As this year’s legislative sessions have rolled forward across the country, we’ve gotten more and more legislation through allowing and encouraging the faith-based housing movement to expand significantly. I recently did a series that covered many of the technicalities of this legislation, but I finished it up feeling as though there’s something missing. Namely, the impacts of this legislation.

What’s it going to actually do? What will it look like for communities? Will it lead to a bunch of development nobody likes? Will it even lead to new housing at all?

There’s a term we’ve been throwing around the office that I think is a good framework for this new era we’ve entered: we’re in a faith-based housing Space Race.

I believe the question is no longer whether or not faith communities will be able to pull off these developments across the country, but rather what form they will take. For so many communities, housing is the correct next step for their property and, emboldened by new policies and a growing body of case studies, they will venture down this path at numbers far higher than we’ve seen before. The task that lies before us as advocates for this movement and people that care about our communities and our neighborhoods is to make sure that as more faith communities navigate this path that they don’t take any wrong turns. Whether that be wild goose chases of bad development partners, untenable subsidies, or poor design choices, these next few years will be determinative of how many projects will take a wrong turn, how many will reach their destination, and how many will be truly incredible projects.

We are in a Space Race against the status quo.

Both to ensure that faith-based housing development happens and to ensure that it happens in the best way possible. Though our name is the Faith-Based Housing Initiative, our approach is one that centers placemaking and community development so that these transformations can create truly incredible places that foster faith and human flourishing. We don’t believe that faith-based housing should be purely about the “unit” counts and the raw statistics of putting roofs over heads. The housing we build must also serve deeper needs, forming community and making people feel a deeper sense of belonging and place.

Most people probably agree that most housing development these days doesn’t do that. It’s merely mediocre–nice on the surface but largely failing to form the bonds of lasting community. Though we are marginally better at building walkable neighborhoods than we used to be, there’s still a lacking organicness that our largely top-down, institutionally-driven development system will never manage to achieve.

There is a very real danger that many faith-based housing projects go down this road. Status quo development is just easier and simpler. Oftentimes, complex subsidy-driven affordable housing mechanisms drive development projects down this path without much alternative. Though better than nothing, I think that faith-based housing can and should be our opportunity to do better.

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The Opportunity

These new bills open up so much opportunity that is unlike any large-scale reform we’ve seen in years. I am a firm advocate for walkable, mixed-use communities that are person-scaled, de-prioritize the automobile, and largely follow the principles of New Urbanism. For so many reasons many readers of this Substack may already know, it is very difficult to build these kinds of places despite all of us loving them. Zoning, building codes, setback requirements, financing, the list goes on. These bills don’t solve all of those problems by any means, but they absolutely open incredible opportunities that a year ago would’ve been tough.

Particularly on the zoning front, many of these bills allow mixed-use by right, oftentimes with significantly more density than most municipalities allow. Most limit parking requirements heavily, bringing down costs and the need for additional auto-oriented construction. Then combine that with the existing location of many faith institutions in cities and neighborhoods, often at sites that are already neighborhood nodes or gathering spaces. There is lots of potential on these properties whether in underutilized buildings, empty land, or oversized parking lots, and they can be the perfect place to add other places to gather like dog parks, coffee shops, parks, entrepreneurial space, the list goes on. For those congregations, developers, designers, and advocates who are geared towards human-centered development and neighborhoods that lead to flourishing, this is an incredible opportunity to see those visions become reality and build strong communities.

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But it’s also an opportunity for status quo institutionalized developers to get in the game and bring their mode of development to the table. This won’t always be a bad thing, and sometimes there are benefits to those methodologies. But it probably leaves some opportunities for really incredible community-driven development on the table. Furthermore, these players often work at a scale that is too large for many congregations. Sometimes it’ll be an ill fit anyways, and going down that path will waste time and lead to nothing getting done at all.

How do we ensure the best faith-based housing gets built?

There’s a reason many of these projects we’re “competing” against, both nonprofit and for profit, work the way they do. Many try to create place through trendy amenities and often lackluster design, it just isn’t their strength. They’re being built on a scale that doesn’t work well for community building with a design process guided by a spreadsheet rather than a vision. The status quo is what it is because it’s standardized and easier.

That being said, I believe this faith-based housing Space Race could lead to better development going beyond just faith-based housing. Faith communities care deeply about their place, and they have the capacity to hold a much longer term vision for it than most real estate development timelines ask for. That means they can invest deeply in community with an eye towards long term sustainable places that can evolve and meet the needs of their communities. Second of all, there is a unique advantage in the fact that many congregations do not need to develop their land. They have it, yes, but they aren’t shaped by the market forces that often encourage typical landholders to do something with their property sooner rather than later. That means they are moved not by numbers on a spreadsheet but by their vision and the potential to do something incredible.

As we rack up better and better case studies to propagate throughout the country, I’m confident that more congregations (and denominational leadership) will feel moved and drawn to do something beyond just the status quo of development.

I believe firmly that New Urbanist values–walkability, localism, mixing uses, and creating well designed places meant for people of all walks of life–are better for people. I believe that people, when given the choice to live this lifestyle, by and large prefer it. I’ve seen the data that shows these places create happier, healthier people, as well as the data that it lifts people out of poverty. This movement, the legislation that encourages it, and the Space Race we find ourselves in is one of the best opportunities out there today to double down on these values and improve our communities. This is a moment for all who believe in these values and what they can do for your place to raise them up and help ensure that they get implemented. Now is the time to advocate in your community, in your congregation, or in your organization to do the best job we can creating places for people to flourish.

I know that more faith-based housing is coming–and I’m confident that this Space Race will lead to developments that show the best of what we can build today.

This article isn’t a promo for FBHI services–but if you want to help incredible faith-based housing projects get built in your place we can help. Reach out at eli@faith-housing.org to learn more.

Eli Smith is the Director of the Faith-Based Housing Initiative. He is a recent graduate of Dartmouth College, where he studied Religion, with a focus on the faith-based housing movement.

This article is the first in a series by Evan Magen.

Housing is “what dying churches do,” according to many pastors. I think this is a problem for housing advocates, even if the data point to a growing number of dying churches:

If faith-based housing is only in an exit strategy for church decline, then its impact and scale will never grow to its potential. Church growth and decline are the most sensitive topics in congregational life. Faith-based housing advocates need to think carefully about how to respond.

Throughout this series, we will explore the connections between church growth and faith-based housing and how housing advocates can understand church growth.

No one wants to be a dying church, especially the dying ones.

If housing is only associated with decline, then congregations will always associate their grief with the housing development. That is not how anyone wants to start a project.

More vibrant churches will avoid faith-based housing discussions altogether. There is an idea that decline is contagious. Once a ministry or theology is marked as a symptom of decline, it is treated as a leper.

But beyond public image, there is a deeper tension. More churches with unused land means more opportunity for faith-based housing. Does that mean faith-based housing developers stand to benefit from church decline?

If a builder’s answer is yes, then they will likely have a hard time developing trust with congregations. Most people do not willingly enter partnerships where the other will benefit from your failure. These projects will come from churches already in unavoidable decline with few options.

That is an extreme case, but I think there is a more generally accepted ambivalence. Housing advocates don’t care if the church lives or dies. They are more interested in the future of the land as housing or non-profit space. This is even true of many mainline clergy, too.

There is a fatalism that churches are going to die, and so they might as well build or become housing. This is a noble use of church land, but it is not a foregone conclusion. This expectation of church decline will make faith-based housing less competitive and innovative in the long run.

This ambivalence and fatalism are the current default. But it is a choice, not an inevitability. Faith-based housing advocates can choose a different posture.

I propose two principles to reframe the YIGBY response to church decline:

First, faith-based housing advocates should lament the decline and closure of local churches. Fewer churches mean fewer partnerships. Smaller congregations mean fewer advocates. It is especially important for advocates outside of the church to remind clergy and congregations how necessary they are in the broad response to the housing shortage.

Second, builders should decouple from decline. There is opportunity for partnership with large, vibrant churches. When Crosspointe Church in Cary, North Carolina was planning to expand on its 38-acre campus, it partnered with the YMCA to share the space. Now, there is a thriving church and recreation space.

Crosspointe didn’t wait for decline to think creatively about its land. Housing developers can make the same case: a church that engages housing as mission, not last resort, is a more generative long-term partner.

These two postures might seem to pull in opposite directions. One asks advocates to sit with grief, the other to look past it. But they’re sequential, not contradictory. Lament earns trust; decoupling earns partnership. A builder who acknowledges what a congregation is losing has more credibility when they argue that a new project is about mission, not mortality.

In practice, this means leading with a church’s mission rather than its vacancy— asking “Who is my neighbor?” before “How much of your parking lot do you actually use?”

A throughline of this series is that faith-based housing is not about church growth or decline, but the mission of the church. Across church history, the values of faith have been accomplished in life and in death. Growing churches and dying churches are both called to act faithfully, and that includes building housing.

Growth and decline are pivotal moments in the lifespan of a church that test a congregation’s values. These are moments where housing advocates can engage, not with attendance numbers, but with the values that reject the certainty of “what dying churches do” and the entitlement of fatalism.

Evan Bille Magen lives in Durham, NC and serves as the Director of Missions and Community Outreach at the Kirk of Kildaire. He is a recent graduate of Union Presbyterian Seminary and candidate for ordination in the Presbyterian Church (PCUSA). You can find his Substack “Public Goods” here.

To start, who are you and how did this project come about?

I am a young urban designer and Architect-in-training based in Charlotte, NC with a focus on designing beautiful buildings, walkable neighborhoods, and places people want to be. I recently collaborated with Ryan Kilpatrick at Flywheel Momentum, to help the city of Kalamazoo, MI reimagine some underutilized land. After I designed a vision, Ryan and his team provided fiscal data of the resulting tax base showing that good design isn’t just beautiful, but well worth the city’s support. (Read Ryan’s Article)

Project 1: Church Parking Reimagined (Douglas & Paterson)

Tell us a bit about the project. Where is it, how large is it, and what are the characteristics of the site as it is?

The site is a 30 minute walk/7 minute drive from downtown Kalamazoo. This 5 acre project area is a swath of underutilized green space and asphalt. The first thing I noticed was the HUGE parking lot, but as I looked closer the site was already surrounded by incredible assets, with less than a 5 minute walk to small-scale commercial, single and multi-family housing, miles of bike/walking trail, a community center, local farmer’s market, and of course, a church.

How did you approach this as the designer? What were you hoping to accomplish with the design, and how does that manifest?

My goal was to provide the ‘missing puzzle piece’ for this neighborhood. By mirroring uses across the street, the design helps validate rather than contradict what exists. I proposed a few commercial buildings, a 12-unit condo building on the corner, and a mix of alley-loaded single-family homes. The secret ingredient is the landscape: tree-lined sidewalks and moving the driveway to the alley creates a more walkable neighborhood.

What is your favorite part of the design?

The biggest impact is how the church transformed from an ‘island in a sea of asphalt’ to being a church integrated with the neighborhood, facing a shared greenspace and new internal street. It isn’t just more aesthetically pleasing, it’s a more productive, profitable use of land that stitches the neighborhood together and enriches the ministry of the church to its community.

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Project 2: Repairing a Commercial Strip (Cork & Lovers)

Tell us a bit about the project. Where is it, how large is it, and what are the characteristics of the site as it is?

This next project for Kalamazoo, a 5.5 acre site along a commercial corridor suffers from the contemporary classic: an aging strip mall surrounded by too much parking. Despite being next to an elementary school and an established single-family neighborhood, this site was characterized as being ‘obsolete’. The city identified the site as a potential neighborhood center that could also provide housing for teachers.

How did you approach this as the designer? What were you hoping to accomplish with the design, and how does that manifest?

The church is essential for anchoring the site in the community. I proposed the same amount of retail, but this time in a more walkable mixed-use form that defines the street AND provides attainable housing within walking distance to the school for teachers. Townhomes were also proposed facing the school and existing neighborhood and parking was tucked away in the middle of the block.

What is your favorite part of the design?

This design addresses what was missing in the strip mall--human centered design. While on paper this location is a ‘node’ or ‘center’, it lacked a sense of place because it was designed for automobiles. By proposing a tree-lined greenspace shared by retail and the church we create a place worth spending time in. It’s easy to imagine all the family walks after school or church services that simply weren’t possible before.

This article is the 3rd in a 3-part series on faith-based housing legislation across the country. Read the first part here and the second here.

If you haven’t seen it, we also encourage you to check out the Metro Abundance Project’s faith-based housing model legislation, which FBHI helped out with.

When I started working on all things faith-based housing 2 years ago, it was a totally different world. It was clearly a growing movement that had energy and lots of potential, but very few of the stories were being shared and it had only had limited legislative success.

That’s very far from where we are today.

2026 has already seen three faith-based housing bills pass with the potential for a few more to pass. I’d be surprised if we didn’t see even more states building on that momentum next year and the YIGBY movement will expand even further. It is incredible to see how much more interest, momentum, and confidence has emerged, with even more room to grow in the future.

For that reason, I think this is a good place to zoom out and get a 30,000 foot view of where YIGBY legislation is compared to last year, and what is likely to happen in the future.

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Spread Outside of California

When California’s SB4 passed in 2023, it was a groundbreaking moment for the faith-based housing movement, standing as the first statewide legislation allowing and encouraging faith institutions to develop their land. But it had a few flaws, and California is a weird state where it’s really difficult to build housing writ large. With that unique atmosphere, it’s been really difficult to replicate and get other states to follow. No one in Tennessee or Texas wants to hear California listed as the example they need to draw from.

This year has been huge, seeing Virginia, Kentucky, and Florida all pass bills that improve on the California model and will likely be far more replicable. I’ve heard interest from other states in the south such as Tennessee, but everyone always says that they want a good example from a bordering state before they take up the cause. With this spurt of success, I think it’ll become far easier for states like Tennessee, North Carolina, Texas, and Oklahoma to turn existing efforts into real action.

Innovative New Models

Secondly, I’m really glad to see the acknowledgement that faith-based housing has a bunch of different models that are valid. Whereas California basically required all faith-based housing to be 100% affordable rentals, new bills significantly ease up on that requirement, allowing for more innovative funding mechanisms and mixed-income developments. Furthermore, I’m really glad to see Virginia explicitly talking about for-sale units as a possible model, especially given that I see missing middle, for-sale, and workforce housing segments as being the biggest opportunity for growth in this movement. This model is significantly easier to get done in practice and not dependent on the long, complex processes that subsidies for 100% affordable housing are often tied to. The increased flexibility will probably open up opportunities for smaller developments and allow them to happen more quickly.

What to Continue Looking Out For

There are a few things to continue looking for in future bills. Each state has been a bit different, but something interesting to note is that the partisan breakdown has been rather unpredictable. In Kentucky, it passed nearly unanimously with support from both parties, while Virginia’s bill came down largely on partisan lines. This is not a clear partisan issue (nor should it be), but sometimes it can manifest itself that way. In Texas, a fight over their bill has pitted hardline republicans against more moderate republicans, all of which underscores truly how unpredictable this legislation can sometimes be. For that reason, I wouldn’t walk into any conversation about YIGBY legislation assuming that one side will be for or against it, and at its best can be a bipartisan effort.

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The last thing I’ll leave you with is probably the most important: how we actually build these projects. This topic deserves an article of its own (that is upcoming), but there is no doubt we will see the good, the bad, and the ugly of faith-based housing in the coming years. It’s up to us to champion and forward the best projects so that they become the models we build off of.

We’ve been throwing a term around the office for this: it’s faith-based housing’s “moonshot” moment. We are in a space race to build the best projects we can.

We believe that walkable, mixed-use, and beautiful places are what we are called to build. Housing for housing’s sake that simply checks a box of “units created” without regard to dignity, community, or human connection is not enough. So much of our world today is defined by disconnection caused both by a lack of housing but also the wrong kind of housing. Most of what we build doesn’t connect neighbors to neighbors and create robust communities with a mix of incomes and generations.

If this movement is going to succeed in the long run, we need to build the kinds of places that people are going to love.

Eli Smith is the Director of the Faith-Based Housing Initiative. He is a recent graduate of Dartmouth College, where he studied Religion, with a focus on the faith-based housing movement.

This article is the second in a 3-part series on faith-based housing legislation across the country. Read the first part here.

If you haven’t seen it, we also encourage you to check out the Metro Abundance Project’s faith-based housing model legislation, which FBHI helped out with.

Last week, I profiled Virginia’s recent faith-based housing bill, SB388. If you haven’t already read it, I suggest you start the series there!

This week, I’m going to briefly profile a number of other bills across the country that have been introduced or passed. I think it’s really interesting to put these in one place to take a look at the pros, the cons, and the differences in approaches amongst each of these pieces of legislation. The hope is that this article will serve as a quick reference to where we are in this movement, what’s working, and what states have been considering this.

That being said, it’s a big country! I’ve done my best to compile some of these bills and their basic details, but it’s difficult to track intricacies and changes across all 50 states. If there’s one that I missed or an interesting detail I left out, please put it in the comments below and we can add it to make this resource more complete!

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Kentucky’s HB 333

Status: PASSED

The Basics:

• Max of 24 units

• 100% Affordable

• Must be commercial or business zone, or residential on state primary road system

• Development wouldn’t lead to more than 24 units on the parcel or owned by the religious institution within half a mile

Kentucky’s bill will be a fascinating experiment in smaller-scale faith-based housing. The 24-unit limit will be a really interesting experiment, basically disallowing the larger apartment building approaches that are fairly common within faith-based housing. For a rural state like Kentucky, I don’t think that that’s necessarily a bad approach.

The downside is that 100% of the units must be affordable. Combining that with the limit on the number of units is likely to make it very difficult for projects to pencil without significant subsidy that is often limited to larger projects which wouldn’t be eligible. The affordability timeline is short (only 15 years), but that doesn’t make today’s tough math any easier. Furthermore, it’s restricted to commercial or business zones or along major roads, which may be confusing or add additional hurdles.

In summary, Kentucky’s bill is a great start but I fear it’ll struggle to actually get projects built.

Florida’s HB 1389

Status: PASSED

The Basics:

• Expansion of last year’s optional YIBGY provision

• Makes municipalities enact their own YIGBY expansions

• Lax affordability requirements, but cities can make theirs stricter

Florida’s YIGBY bill is a complicated one. They passed it last year encouraging municipalities to make their own optional provisions, but this year they expanded it to make it mandatory. Good news is that that means more state preemption and increased support.

There are a few minor parts that still stand out: faith organizations must have had the land for 10 years prior (which is abnormally long), and the parcels must be larger than 3 acres. I could foresee issues around both of these, meaning that this may incentivize larger projects over smaller ones.

Frankly, the optional/mandatory approach that pushes municipalities to make their own rules is a much more confusing approach than a lot of other states have taken, and I’m still making sense of it. If you’re looking for a more detailed analysis, I highly recommend this Florida Housing Coalition article.

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Rhode Island’s H7445 and S2268

Status: UNDER CONSIDERATION

The Basics:

• No affordability requirements

• No parking minimums

• Base density of 30 units/acre

• “Shot clock” for municipal decisions

Props to our friends over at Neighbors Welcome RI for championing this bill! This is a favorite, especially given that it draws pretty heavily from the Metro Abundance Project Model Legislation that FBHI helped out with.

That means that it has a bunch of really good stuff like having lots of flexibility around affordability and great base density. Having a shot clock on municipal decisions is also a huge benefit, as it will decrease timelines and prevent cities from dragging their feet on implementation.

Though the bill is still under consideration, I’ve heard through the grapevine that it has a good chance of passing this session. If it does, I think it will surpass the Virginia bill as the best in the country.

Illinois’s HB5083 and SB3187

Status: UNDER CONSIDERATION

The Basics:

• 60 ft height allowance

• Setbacks of 10 ft (5 ft on side)

• No parking requirements

• “Shot clock” for municipal decisions

• Ensures localities can’t kill projects with dimensional or quantitative constraints like Floor Area Ratio, lot coverage, max units

Illinois’s bill is very similar to the Rhode Island one, as it prevents parking minimums, creates shot clocks, and has lots of great flexibility around affordability. Much like Rhode Island, if it ends up passing it will be the best in the country, really pushing this movement forward and allowing new models to emerge and thrive.

Where We’re Headed

Since 2023, we’ve seen most faith-based housing bills stagnate. Thankfully, it looks like that era is over. To have three groundbreaking bills pass all in 2026 is an incredible achievement and proves that this movement is significantly more mature than it was even last year.

In fact, it’s gotten so successful that it’s become more difficult to track every bill! What a great problem to have, right? That means there are a few bills I didn’t have room to cover here: namely Connecticut’s HB 5396, Massachusetts SD 1663, and Oklahoma’s SB 1545. Each of these have provisions largely similar to the ones above, but they’re worth adding to the list. If you know of any others I’ve missed, please let me know and I can add them!

Next week will be the last post of this series, and I’ll cover what my hopes are for the future of this movement and how much this legislation has moved us towards that (spoiler alert: it’s a lot). Stay tuned and be sure to subscribe for the final piece!

Eli Smith is the Director of the Faith-Based Housing Initiative. He is a recent graduate of Dartmouth College, where he studied Religion, with a focus on the faith-based housing movement.

This article is the first in a 3-part series on faith-based housing legislation across the country.

If you haven’t seen it, we also encourage you to check out the Metro Abundance Project’s faith-based housing model legislation, which FBHI helped out with.

I’ve lived in Virginia my entire life (save for a few years in college), so it’s hard for me to describe how excited I was in February when State Senators Jeremy McPike and Jennifer Carroll-Foy introduced SB388. This is Virginia’s version of the pro-housing “Yes in God’s Backyard” (YIGBY) movement that’s sweeping the country and empowering faith institutions to build housing on their land.

For the last few months, I’ve been refreshing the state legislature tracking website daily, hoping and praying that it would move forward while also calling and emailing as many legislators as I could. (Huge shoutout to Commonwealth Housing Coalition and YIMBY Action for keeping up the pressure!)

After an excruciating few months and a handful of near-misses that almost sunk the legislation, I’m happy to say that it has finally been signed into law by Virginia Governor Abigail Spanberger!

Better yet, I feel pretty confident saying that this is by far the best YIGBY legislation we’ve seen passed nationwide. As a Virginian, I’m incredibly proud.

As someone who works on all things faith-based housing, it’s hard to overstate how large of an impact this will have on the YIGBY movement, not just in Virginia but across the country.

Over the next few weeks, I am going to share a three-part series on YIGBY legislation that has been introduced across the country. Though I’m wary of inundating you with too much policy talk, this year has been a huge leap forward in the movement legislatively and it’s worth doing a deep dive into what has happened!

This week, I’m covering the Virginia bill as it’s the most formative and I believe the most consequential we have seen yet. Next week, I will cover a number of other states who have had bills either introduced or passed, and then the series will close out with a recap and discussion of where we go from here. Be sure to subscribe so that you don’t miss them!

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What I Like About Virginia’s YIGBY Law

tl/dr:

• It’s Simple

• Affordability requirements:

  • 60% units must be affordable

  • Under 80% AMI for-rent

  • Under 120% AMI for-sale

• Standards are the following :

  • 10 ft setbacks

  • 45 ft height limit

  • 20 units/acre

  • Scales to similar parcels within 500ft

First off, what I like the best: it’s fairly simple.

The bill exists to do one thing: allow faith organizations and nonprofits to build housing by-right without having to go through lengthy legislative approvals. The text of the bill concise and readable, and most exceptions and restrictions are very simple one or two sentence phrases. Elements that may be redundant clarifications, like the fact that the housing must comply with existing fair housing rules, are kept short and legible. In my mind, this is exactly what well-written legislation looks like. It’s simple, to the point, readable, and doesn’t overcomplicate to the point of confusion. This is incredibly important, as it is meant for organizations without much housing development experience. Being legible to everyday people is important to achieving that, and this bill does that.

The second thing I like is the flexibility of affordability requirements.

The bill requires that projects have 60% of their units designated as “affordable,” with that defined as being for-rent units targeting people under 80% of the area median income (AMI) and for-sale units under 120%.

I’ve written before about how affordability requirements often create extra compliance costs and are designed for specific subsidy programs that complicate the process, and I stand by that. Most of the churches we work with want to do affordability inherently, and overly prescriptive requirements only stand in the way of that. That being said, Virginia’s legislation marks a huge step forward in this realm, acknowledging that there are more flexible ratios which can deliver housing at an affordable price without added complexity. Not only that, it also reflects that major growth in this movement is towards for-sale models that foster home ownership. By tying that to 120% of AMI, the math becomes a lot easier to create affordability without subsidy.

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Lastly, the density standards are forgiving, reasonable, and a huge improvement for almost every site in the state.

The legislation sets the maximum setbacks at 10 feet, density at 20 units per acre, and a max height of 45 feet. Each of these is a very good middle ground, allowing a significant amount of flexibility for projects ranging from tiny home villages to larger apartment buildings, without allowing a completely unreasonable amount of density statewide.

Furthermore, it allows these standards to scale with context to other buildings within 500 feet. That means that if a neighboring parcel has a taller building with more density allowed by-right, a faith-based housing project could match that same context. This is a really clever feature of the law, allowing it to set a minimum while also scaling across a large state with diverse needs.

What I Don’t Like (But I’m Okay With)

tl/dr

• Restrictions on Mixed-Use

• Exceptions in Historic Districts

• Subject to Property Taxes

Like anything in this world, the bill isn’t perfect. There are some restrictions that I foresee leading to localized friction or grey area battles, but ultimately each of these has fallen on some of the more reasonable objections, and I believe they were all necessary compromises.

First, there are restrictions on the development being mixed-use.

The ratio of residential square footage to commercial must be at maximum 70% residential and 30% commercial. In addition, the commercial portion must be “religious worship space, child day centers, health clinics, coffee shops, or other uses that are ancillary to the operation or mission of the property tax-exempt religious organization or 501(c)(3) property tax-exempt nonprofit organization.”

I can easily think of a few potential edge cases that may be restricted— for instance a congregation that renovates some of their facilities to rent for offices and a coffee shop while also building 5 tiny homes. Clearly the tiny homes would not meet the square footage required in this scenario, but it may be in a grey area and is difficult to determine how localities will interpret this.

Secondly, some provisions do not apply in historic districts.

Again, this is something I think is mostly fair–you don’t want to have a big ugly 5-over-1 apartment building in a beautiful historic area, of which Virginia has plenty. Yet at the same time we know that the guise of “historic preservation” can frequently be used to block new housing of any kind. That’s an issue that both messy and far reaching beyond just faith-based housing, though, and one that I have very mixed feelings about. I don’t think this is an easy one to resolve, so I’m a bit glad the bill just left it alone and didn’t attempt to pick a fight where we didn’t need one.

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Last thing–the bill says that projects will be subject to real property taxation.

On one hand, I’m glad that it clarified this issue, because it’s been a bit of a sticky one that very few localities have found a good solution to. The basic argument is that if the housing is affordable and part of the mission, that it should be tax-exempt so that those tax savings get rolled back into making it even more affordable. On the other hand, though, the property taxes do provide necessary services, and in a weird way it actually encourages localities to support more housing because it takes land that wasn’t previously on the tax roll and puts it back on.

I can see both sides of each of these issues, and frankly I think these provisions skillfully dispatch some of the most common objections we see. While some other states are struggling with silly objections that aren’t grounded in reality, at the very least I’m grateful these are all valid concerns and were handled thoughtfully.

Whew, that’s enough legislative analysis for today! Sometimes these bills can be difficult to parse, but I suggest you go read through Virginia’s SB388 in detail yourself. It’s not too long and fairly easy to read, I promise!

Again, congratulations to everyone that worked on this bill and advocated for it to get across the finish line. This is a huge accomplishment for the faith-based housing movement nationally and I’m so excited to see some of the projects that come out of it.

Next week, I’ll be covering a few other states that have been introducing and passing similar reforms.

Eli Smith is the Director of the Faith-Based Housing Initiative. He is a recent graduate of Dartmouth College, where he studied Religion, with a focus on the faith-based housing movement.

Last week, we held a webinar profiling the incredible story of Newell Presbyterian outside of Charlotte, NC. Rev Matt Conner was gracious enough to lend us his time and wisdom and shared some really incredible lessons on their congregation’s process, how they’ve conceived of their relationship with their new neighbors, and ultimately how they hope to serve (and build) community in their place. Each of these lessons is something I think any faith-based housing project would be wise to consider.

In a break from our usual format, I want to pilot something new this week by sharing the recording from the webinar, podcast-style. You can watch the video (and I suggest you do), where you’ll see some great graphics from their process and their site plan evolution. Towards the end, we get into questions from the audience, all of which illuminated the project even further. Thanks to everyone who joined, and I hope you all enjoy!

In a region with one of the worst housing crises in the country, the question is not just how to rebuild, but how to rebuild in a way that might be resistant to future fires while aiding the housing crisis.

One church in Paradise, California, has already answered that question, and we should look to their example for how to rebuild after a fire.

In 2018, Paradise Lutheran Church’s parsonage was destroyed in the massive Camp Fire, which became the deadliest and most destructive wildfire in California history. Though the main church building and offices managed to escape the fire, the parsonage across the street was not so lucky. In a town that had been devastated by the fire, Paradise Lutheran realized that they could use this blank slate to build something new and help their community.

Though they had long talked about building apartments for seniors in the community, they had never managed to find the funds to embark on a building project. After the fire, they realized that the insurance check supplemented by an existing endowment would be enough to seed their new project. Because many seniors had moved out of the community after the fire, they also shifted their focus to those in the greatest need of rental housing: families.

Four years later, the church opened their new $1 million fire-resistant fourplex to residents. The two-bedroom two-bathroom units are rented at market rates, providing a modest source of income for a church that saw many of its members move away after the fire. Residents have easy access to the church, as well as invitations to events such as free lunches on Fridays.

Best of all, the new complex is resistant to future fires.

Built by a company called Design Horizons, the “Q Cabin” design is modeled on the prefabricated structures used by the military throughout the 20th century. Its all-steel construction minimizes possible access points for embers carried by the wind, which are the most frequent ignition points on homes destroyed by wildfires. Nothing on the outside of the structure can burn, greatly reducing the risk of future destruction.

As fires and other natural disasters continue to destroy American communities, many houses of worship also face severe impacts. Paradise Lutheran saw their congregation halved. But that doesn’t mean that there isn’t hope to rebuild, and to rebuild better than before. Structures like the Q Cabin can be built to resist future damage, while also providing much needed housing for families that lost their homes.

Even though the Los Angeles wildfires only happened a few weeks ago, real estate speculation has already taken off, creating fears of gentrification and an exacerbated affordability crisis. Once the dust settles and immediate needs are taken care of, houses of worship in the area should understand their unique position to be a force for lasting good in their communities.

We don’t just need to build back what was there before, we need to build it back better than before.

Eli Smith is the Director of the Faith-Based Housing Initiative. He is a recent graduate of Dartmouth College, where he studied Religion, with a focus on the faith-based housing movement.

It feels a little underwhelming to write about land and time costs associated with churches and housing this week. There are so many big crises unfolding, and this feels small by comparison. Its narrow focus almost feels insensitive in perspective.

I am helping lead an Adult Bible study on Acts at a local church, and we read Acts 2-4 the Sunday before the Inauguration. It describes the powerful moment of Pentecost and its aftermath: the Holy Spirit descends, people of different nations can understand one another, and filled with awe, they dedicate themselves to one another in a radical new community, the Church. The theologian NT Wright describes the Pentecost moment as when “Jesus’ followers become a small working model of the New Creation.”

“A small working model of the New Creation.” I feel particularly called to this right now. I see neighbors and church members looking to organize and work in small ways in response to these larger forces in the country. My purpose in this piece, hopefully, is to explore the “working” part. For the Church to offer a compelling alternative vision to what we are seeing now, to be a “small working model,” our ideas have to actually work.

I believe churches can be small models of the Gospel’s alternative vision. They can embody hospitality through housing at a time of rising fear and displacement. Church land is an untapped resource in growing cities, particularly in the South, where rising land values are making affordable housing scarce.

So why are more churches not models of affordable housing development? What isn’t working?

I propose: the Church Land-Time Paradox.

Land and time are the two most expensive aspects of any development project. Highly sought after land fetches higher prices, and after the land is secured, delays become increasingly costly. Developers do not get paid until homes are sold or rents are collected, so the risk of waiting for permits, approval, and materials is a costly gamble.

The Church’s greatest asset in housing development is abundant and cheap land in prime locations. The Church’s greatest liability is its decision-making time. Churches are famously slow to change. That is especially true in regards to church property. There needs to be time for discernment, committee meetings, council votes, congregation meetings, and denominational approval. These hurdles are understandable: churches have to balance the needs of many different stakeholders at once while also trying to organize collective action on a small budget. That’s really hard.

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But those time constraints are really expensive for most builders. Developers on church land make a trade: low land costs for high time costs. Only if the savings on land outweigh the time costs will faith-based housing get built. This leads to two possibilities for faith-based housing to grow: it will only be popular in communities with extremely high land costs, or among churches that streamline their decision-making timelines.

Figure 1 visualizes the balance between land savings and time costs for housing on church land. The line represents where the money saved on land (where the church offers it for free or at a steep discount) equals the costs associated with the time needed for a church’s decision-making. Above the line, faith-based housing gets built. Below the line, the time costs are too much for the land deal.

But to complicate the model a little bit, I would add that faith-based housing is unlikely when surrounding land costs are low and the savings are minimal, even with a fast church decision-making process. If land is cheap, why would a developer go through the trouble of partnering with church when they can own the land outright?

However, there comes a point at which land is no longer cheap, but actually becomes one of the main development costs. This is where most affordable housing developers struggle. Either they can’t win a bid on scarce land, or the land is so expensive that they have to raise the expected rents to avoid losing money on the investment. I call this point the “Habitat line” after Habitat for Humanity has struggled in recent years with land prices. This is where church land becomes an attractive option. As a result, faith-based housing is likely only built when potential land cost savings are above the Habitat line.

However, as figure 3 shows, this depends on the time costs associated with a church’s decision-making process. To the left of the Land-Time line and above the Habitat line, faith-based housing gets built. However, if the time a church takes to decide is too much, then faith-based housing does not get built, even as the housing shortage worsens.

Faith-based housing can only become a “small, working model of the New Creation” if the Church’s decision-making process does not squander its land assets. For many churches, the polity (church government) requires a lengthy process for property decisions. But oftentimes the longest and hardest conversations are simply discerning and imagining as a community. Congregations can begin those conversations now, whether or not they are interested in faith-based housing.

Let’s start with these questions: how might your congregation be a “small working model” of a different vision in this world? What are your assets? What are the tradeoffs?

Evan Bille Magen lives in Durham, NC and serves as the Director of Missions and Community Outreach at the Kirk of Kildaire. He is a recent graduate of Union Presbyterian Seminary and candidate for ordination in the Presbyterian Church (PCUSA). You can find his Substack “Public Goods” here.

The following is an open letter from the director of the Faith-Based Housing Initiative to Virginia Governor Abigail Spanberger in support of SB388. The bill is sitting on her desk, but we need her to sign it by April 13th. If you want to see faith-based housing succeed in Virginia, please share this letter and submit a comment at this link.

To Governor Abigail Spanberger,

As both a Virginian and the Director of the Faith-Based Housing Initiative, I have been incredibly excited and proud to track The Faith in Housing Bill’s progress through the Virginia state legislature this year.

From Arlington to Abingdon, Virginians are ready to help solve our housing crisis through their faith institutions. They have the land, they have the mission, and they have the will. But right now, they are being blocked by a wall of red tape.

SB388 is the key to tearing that wall down.

With the April 13 signing deadline fast approaching, I am respectfully urging you, Governor Spanberger, to sign this landmark legislation in its strongest form.

The Problem: VA Churches are Land Rich, but Regulations Stand in the Way

In recent years, we have seen an incredible movement of houses of worship seeking to build affordable housing on their underutilized property. From Danville to Portsmouth to Richmond, we have been asked to train churches to do this difficult work. SB388 is the common-sense solution that benefits everyone and builds housing exactly where we need it the most.

However, under the current land use dogma, this work is grueling. Small congregations are being buried under burdensome zoning requirements that make affordable projects impossible to finance, let alone build.

Without SB388, our faith communities are handcuffed. I know of a church in Richmond that was forced to sell its land to a private developer because the barriers to building affordable housing were too high. That land—which could have housed teachers and seniors—is now being turned into multi-million dollar luxury homes.

This is the cost of inaction. How much longer must the citizens of Virginia pay such costs?

SB388 is the Solution We Need

SB388 provides a streamlined pathway for faith congregations to build the housing we need. It ensures teachers, firefighters, and healthcare workers can afford to live in the communities they serve. It provides options for aging in place near their spiritual homes, and it allows congregations to turn their most valuable asset—land—into a living extension of their values.

We have come too far to accept half-measures. We strongly oppose any effort to veto or weaken this bill.

Governor Spanberger: I urge you to sign SB388/HB1279, including the small technical amendments requested by the Commonwealth Housing Coalition to ensure this law works on day one.

To my fellow Virginians: We have until midnight on April 13. The opponents of affordable housing are loud, but they are small, and we are many. We need to show the Governor that Virginians want real solutions and not just rhetoric. You can tell the Governor why you think signing these bills is important at this link.

Let’s get this done. Let’s put faith in housing.

Eli Smith

Virginia Resident

Director, Faith-Based Housing Initiative

510 years ago, the world’s oldest still-operating social housing complex was established in Augsburg, Germany. It was named after its founder, Jakob Fugger the Rich. “The Rich” was an accurate title—at the time, it’s estimated that his wealth made up about 2% of Europe’s entire GDP. This sum would be worth about $400 billion today.

The yearly rent was set at about a month’s salary for the needy laborers it served, an amount which has stayed consistent. Nowadays, the rent is about .88 Euros per year, just 1/6th of the 6 Euro entry fee for tourists. It houses about 150 people in modest 500-700 square foot apartments, many with private gardens.

There’s a lot I could write about the history of this beautiful oasis, about the conditions which created similar social housing complexes across Europe at the time, or about how they’ve endured to become iconic symbols of their communities and destinations for tourists from around the world.

But there’s something in the Fuggerai I find to be particularly powerful: the door pulls.

Before streetlights, it was common for people to have difficulty discerning which house was theirs. It would be dark, and in the Fuggerai most buildings looked very similar and the doors were identical. If you return late at night in the rain, you may open the wrong door in your haste.

Their solution was to make each door unique. That way, when you arrived at your house you could instantly feel the familiar shape and feel of the door pull in your hand and know that you were home.

Although this is a very practical solution to a tangible problem, it is also a distinctly human solution that offers deep meaning and a sense of belonging. Just imagine returning late at night in cold, driving rain, and the second you touch your own door, you know that you’ve returned home.

It must’ve been deeply comforting for residents to return and feel they had a place that was not only their own, but was unique.

Nowadays, we live in a world of standardization and mechanization. Most new apartment buildings or suburban neighborhoods don’t just have the same door handles on every home, they have the same home copy and pasted, over and over and over again. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve been going to visit friends in their neighborhood and driven right by their house, unable to distinguish it from their neighbor’s. You don’t for sure know you’ve rung the right doorbell until a familiar face appears at the door. Many of my friends now live in apartment buildings that feel more like hotels with their sanitized double-loaded corridors. The long, monotonous hallways and identical doors make the only distinguishing feature the number on the apartment, to the point where it’s not uncommon for residents to accidentally walk into other people’s apartments.

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400 years ago, we recognized that even (and especially) the people with the greatest need and the least privilege needed to feel some sense of belonging and ownership.

Even if they were only renting their place in the Fuggerai and could never buy it, they no doubt still felt it was theirs, with unique door handles reinforcing that fact every time they opened the door. Now, young and middle-aged professionals renting apartments or buying suburban homes have few other options than to accept their fate and live in the same apartment with the same door handle as their neighbor, and as their neighbor’s neighbor, and someone else in an identical boxy apartment building hundreds of miles away.

And, I’ll remind you, this is how we treat the relatively wealthy members of society, who have far more privileges and luxuries than residents of the Fuggerai (or even their patrons) could ever have imagined. Clearly, in our increasing indulgence and luxury we have forgotten some of the basics that make humans humans.

All that being said–there’s good reason to be optimistic about the future, and for me, faith-based housing is a large reason for that.

Outside of corporate board rooms and spreadsheet jockeys maximizing ROI, there are people building homes that take this into account, and many of the best examples come from the faith-based housing world. Take the group Settled in St Paul, Minnesota. I’ve written about them before, and one of the things that really stood out for me was the fact that each home they build, though factory built off-site to save on construction costs, is incredibly intentional about the items and furnishings they put in the homes for residents.

Settled has volunteers who scour thrift stores, estate sales, garage sales, and any other second-hand store where they can get a good bargain to find items they can use to decorate with intentionality. When residents move in, they have a home that’s been made just for them with items and furnishings that are theirs. Settled serves folks coming out of homelessness, and they recognize the importance of celebrating who they are and encouraging individual expression.

Faith institutions, by their very nature, are concerned not just with physical well-being, but with spiritual well-being. It is possible (and in fact quite common) for the places we live to check the box for providing shelter without actually providing or encouraging agency, individuality, and meaning. When faith institutions are building housing, they can ensure throughout the process that these core values are honored and upheld, bringing meaning back into our housing. I don’t know if we’ll ever get individualized door handles back, as supply chain dynamics may simply make it too expensive and difficult.

But it is still possible for housing to foster a sense of belonging and individuality, and organizations like Settled prove that.

Eli Smith is the Director of the Faith-Based Housing Initiative. He is a recent graduate of Dartmouth College, where he studied Religion, with a focus on the faith-based housing movement.

This article is Part III of a series written by Jarah Jacquay. You can read Part I here and Part II here.

“I will not cease from Mental Fight,

Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand,

Till we have built Jerusalem

In England’s green and pleasant Land.”

— William Blake, “Jerusalem” (Milton: A Poem, 1804)

Walk through a neighborhood that works and you will notice something hard to name: children on foot, elders on porches, a corner store with a regular crowd, a parish whose parking lot is occupied on days other than Sunday. The street itself seems to hold people in relation to one another. Remove any one element—the walkable scale, the affordable housing, the anchor institution, the public path—and the whole begins to thin. The relationships were never incidental to the place. They were structural.

That is the insight Pope Francis calls integral ecology, and it is the animating idea of this final essay. The first two essays established that housing insecurity is a pastoral emergency and that stable property is a moral precondition for family life. This one turns to the question those arguments leave open: what does the right kind of place actually look like, and how do we build it?

Everything Is Interwoven

Laudato Si’ is often received as an environmental document. It is. But its deeper claim is anthropological: “We are faced not with two separate crises, one environmental and one social, but rather with one complex crisis which is both social and environmental” (LS §139). Housing belongs inside that complexity. Residential instability does not stay in a single column—it spreads into schooling, health, parish life, and the informal social trust that holds neighborhoods together. Conversely, a stable home in a walkable neighborhood near good schools and public space can make family life less costly in every sense.

The implication for practice is direct: if the crises are interwoven, the solutions must be too. Isolated interventions—a subsidy here, a unit there—can relieve immediate pressure without restoring the web. What integral ecology invites is not a master plan, but a discipline: attend to the whole pattern, not only the presenting problem.

New Urbanism Is Older Than Its Name

New Urbanism is sometimes treated as an aesthetic movement—porches, corner stores, narrow streets—and dismissed accordingly. That misses the point, and it misidentifies the tradition. Architect and theorist Christopher Alexander spent decades studying how communities across cultures organize space for human flourishing, and his A Pattern Language (1977) identified recurring structural features—the neighborhood of walkable scale, the connected public path, the mixed-use street—that appear across civilizations because they fit something stable in human nature. New Urbanism did not invent these patterns. It attempted to recover them after a half-century of automobile-centered planning had systematically dismantled them.

The underlying principle is simple: when daily life—work, school, worship, commerce, recreation—is organized within walking or cycling distance, people encounter one another. They build informal trust. Children gain independence. Elders remain visible. Neighbors become neighbors rather than strangers who share a zip code.

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When that scale is broken—when every errand requires a car, when housing is severed from everything else by distance and speed—culture changes. Not dramatically, but steadily. Families’ schedules compress. Spontaneous encounter declines. Parenting and neighboring both become harder than they need to be.

Integral ecology and human-scale urbanism converge on the same observation: the built environment forms the moral environment. How we arrange space shapes what relationships are possible within it.

Faith Taking Spatial Form

This is not merely theoretical. The most instructive examples come not from blueprints but from communities that refused to separate care for the person from care for the conditions of life—and that built accordingly.

The Beguines of the Low Countries represent one of the most remarkable experiments in faith-driven placemaking in Christian history. From the twelfth century onward, lay women—not nuns, not wives, but a third thing—gathered into self-governing communities called béguinages: clusters of small houses arranged around a courtyard, chapel, and shared garden, set within but apart from the surrounding city. They did not wait for institutional authorization. They built the community they believed in, organized around shared devotion, mutual support, and productive labor. The movement spread across northern France, the Rhineland, and the Low Countries; in the mid-thirteenth century, Louis IX of France established a royal béguinage in Paris that housed some four hundred women at its height. The theological point is architectural: when faith seeks to take form in daily life, it tends to produce courts, shared paths, and proximate dwellings—places where the common life is not aspirational but structural.

The godshuizen of Bruges extend the same logic into institutional mercy. From the fourteenth century onward, guilds, pious benefactors, and wealthy citizens endowed small almshouse complexes—godshuizen, “God’s houses”—as acts of Christian charity: modest dwellings arranged around a courtyard and chapel, offered at no cost or minimal rent to the poor, widowed, and elderly. The earliest surviving example in Bruges dates to 1330; more than forty of these complexes remain in the city today, still functioning as housing for elderly residents after six centuries. Their durability is not accidental. The form itself—the shared court, the chapel at the center, the small scale that keeps neighbors in daily proximity—produces the conditions under which community can sustain itself across generations. They are mercy translated into brick, endowment, and governance. They are also, unmistakably, an answer to the same design question that Alexander posed six centuries later: what spatial arrangement makes neighborliness natural rather than exceptional?

A contemporary Dutch example illuminates the intergenerational dimension. Humanitas, a nonprofit eldercare organization in Deventer, Netherlands, began around 2013 placing university students in its care facility rent-free in exchange for at least thirty hours per month of ordinary neighborliness—sharing meals, helping residents navigate technology, simply being present in the building. The students are not caregivers or staff. They are neighbors, chosen for their willingness to inhabit proximity with people whose lives move at a different pace. The arrangement addresses two social failures simultaneously: the isolation of the elderly and the housing cost burden on young people. It does so not through a program but through a designed form of dwelling—a cohabitation that makes mutual dependence ordinary rather than exceptional. The béguinage principle, updated for a secular institution: community is an architecture problem before it is a policy problem.

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In Detroit, near the Eastern Market district, the community anchored around St. Joseph Shrine has been developing a vision for what might be called parish-oriented development: housing, walkable public space, and mixed uses organized in proximity to the parish on blocks with significant vacancy. The concept is to help a dispersed worshipping community live near one another—turning spiritual belonging into geographic belonging. The underlying intuition is as old as the béguinage: worship is not only an hour on Sunday. It is a shared life, and shared life needs a place. What Detroit is attempting is not a return to the medieval court. It is the same question posed in a post-industrial American city with vacant lots instead of open fields: what does it look like to build toward one another rather than away?

These examples span eight centuries and three continents. They differ in method—lay self-governance, institutional endowment, intergenerational cohabitation, parish-anchored development. They share a premise: community requires place, and place requires tending.

Research Confirms: Place Forms People

The moral tradition has always understood this. The empirical record now confirms it.

Raj Chetty and colleagues’ Opportunity Atlas demonstrates that children’s long-run outcomes—earnings, college attendance, incarceration rates—vary sharply by the neighborhood where they grow up, even among children from similar family backgrounds within the same metropolitan area. More pointedly, the research documents what the authors call “exposure effects”: the longer a child spends in a higher-opportunity environment during childhood, the better their adult outcomes tend to be. The neighborhood itself, not merely the family within it, is doing formative work.

Related work evaluating the HOPE VI public housing redevelopment program finds that children who gained meaningful exposure to revitalized environments—neighborhoods with better schools, safer streets, and more functional public space—showed measurable improvements in long-run outcomes, with effects depending significantly on the quality of the surrounding neighborhood context.

Taken together, these findings carry a moral weight that goes beyond social science. When a society systematically prevents ordinary families from accessing stable, higher-opportunity neighborhoods—through exclusionary zoning, cost burdens, or the destruction of neighborhood fabric—it is not merely making life harder. It is shaping outcomes across generations. That is not inefficiency. It is injustice.

Trails as Civic Infrastructure

One of the most practical tools to emerge for corridor-scale neighborhood repair is trail-oriented development—the idea that a connected, multi-use trail spine can become an organizing framework for incremental growth and infill.

Northwest Arkansas offers an instructive case. The Razorback Greenway, a roughly 40-mile multi-use corridor connecting multiple cities and towns, has evolved from a recreational amenity into genuine civic infrastructure—a backbone for mobility, economic development, and land-use coordination across a fragmented region. Planners there have developed a shared transect-based framework to guide missing middle housing and mixed-use development along the corridor, emphasizing incremental repair over wholesale redevelopment. The goal is a place that is livable at every stage of buildout, not only after some hypothetical completion.

The Chetty and HOPE VI research speaks directly to why this matters: if neighborhood context shapes children’s life trajectories, then trail-oriented development—by knitting housing into a broader pattern of public space, walkability, and civic life—is not merely an amenity investment. It is a form of place-based repair that can shift the conditions under which families live and children grow up. The trail is the spine. The neighborhood is the argument.

This insight has an environmental justice dimension worth naming. Activist Majora Carter, who led the Sustainable South Bronx movement beginning in the early 2000s, helped establish the South Bronx Greenway as civic infrastructure for a community that had borne a disproportionate share of industrial land use and highway routing. Her concept of “self-gentrification”—ensuring that neighborhood improvement benefits existing residents rather than displacing them—is a direct challenge to the assumption that trail and greenway investment inevitably raises costs and pushes out the poor. It is also, without using the term, an application of integral ecology: the same intervention that improves air quality, reduces transportation costs, and creates public space should not, by design, destroy the community it serves. That tension requires deliberate attention to land stewardship and community ownership—the kinds of anti-displacement tools that the Champlain Housing Trust in Burlington, Vermont has been refining for four decades.

The lesson is not that a trail solves everything. It is that a well-integrated trail can align many small acts of stewardship into a coherent civic pattern—supporting health, mobility, local commerce, housing attainability, and the kind of daily encounter that slowly rebuilds informal trust. This is the logic of integral ecology in practice: not isolated fixes, but place-based interventions that restore relationship—between people and land, families and neighborhoods, work and home (cf. LS §137).

The Bluffline as Local Practice

Pensacola is not Northwest Arkansas, and the Bluffline is not the Razorback Greenway. But the question is the same: can civic infrastructure be built in a way that strengthens neighborhoods rather than fragmenting them?

The Bluffline is a proposed 20-mile active transportation corridor running “bluff to bluff”—from the academic heights of the University of West Florida in Ferry Pass to the remediated former sand-mining pits of Jackson Lakes in Warrington. That western terminus is itself a study in integral ecology: a 70-acre brownfield, its adjacent landfill remediated by the state, now being designed as a public park and wetland restoration site—a commons for communities that live in the shadow of genuine Superfund sites like American Creosote Works, where over a quarter of residents live below the poverty line, 4,400 households have no car, and 57 pedestrians and cyclists have died on these streets since 2007. The trail runs through this corridor not as an amenity but as what its founders call a lifeline: connecting schools, health clinics, military installations, and the waterfront that thousands of Warrington children have never reached even though they live fifteen minutes away.

The Bluffline has been awarded a seven-figure USDOT Reconnecting Communities Planning Grant—less a validation than an obligation: to work out, in the specific conditions of a Gulf Coast city shaped by highway cuts and industrial disinvestment, how terms like integral ecology, reconnection, and generational stewardship become more than vocabulary. How they become the bedrock upon which generations of Pensacolians can actually build a future. Doing this well means attending to unglamorous realities—right-of-way, displacement risk, flood zones, and governance—not just renderings.

Trail-oriented development along such a spine, built in human-scale types—rowhouses, duplexes, courtyard apartments—could reduce household transportation costs, improve daily walkability for families, and create the public realm conditions under which neighboring becomes natural rather than effortful. Not guaranteed. But more possible.

The Arc, Completed. Three essays. One argument.

Housing insecurity is a pastoral reality the Church is called to receive as her own. Stable property is a moral precondition that Rerum Novarum defends not as privilege but as the ground on which family life becomes possible. And the places where that stability can actually take root are not accidents—they are built, designed, tended, and governed by people who understand their work as vocation.

Integral ecology provides the moral frame. Human-scale urbanism offers a grammar. The empirical record—from Chetty’s Opportunity Atlas to HOPE VI to the Razorback Greenway—confirms that place-based intervention works when it attends to the whole pattern. And the historical record, from the béguinages of medieval Paris to the godshuizen of Bruges to the intergenerational households of Deventer to the parish-oriented development emerging in Detroit, confirms that faith has always known how to take architectural form. Trail-oriented development, done with attention to displacement and community ownership, offers a way to give that form a contemporary spine.

None of this guarantees flourishing. But it can remove unnecessary burdens. It can make the good more feasible—family life less heroic, neighborliness less exceptional, stewardship more ordinary.

That is the aim. Not utopia. Places where people can actually live.

Jarah Jacquay is a husband and father of seven and the Founder and Managing Principal of Virtuous Cycle LLC, a Pensacola-based real estate development and advisory firm focused on attainable housing and long-term community resilience. He is the Co-Founder and President-Emeritus of Bluffline Inc. and was received into the Catholic Church in 2021.

Guest post by Nathaniel Gotcher

In recent years, many in the architecture and urban development professions have been exploring the potential for the more intensive use of land owned by churches and other faith-based organizations. The focus has largely been on housing (especially affordable housing), which would benefit the community by addressing housing shortages without over-developing the shrinking amount of available public land. Creating housing on church-owned land can also provide revenue for a church, allowing it to maintain its presence in the community despite a shrinking congregation.

While housing is an essential part of any urban planning policy, there are even more important considerations that should shape any urban design effort a community undertakes. Beyond addressing the need for comfortable shelter, communities should also create spaces that bring people together to share the things that enrich their common lives: schools and libraries for education, parks and gymnasiums for recreation, and places of worship to address our spiritual needs. Masterplans should integrate the satisfaction of material needs with providing for the intellectual, psychological, and spiritual well-being of the whole community.

This “integral urbanism” should form the basis for urban development.

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Our focus here is on spaces that support spiritual well-being – such as places of worship – and specifically how the use and organization of church-owned land can contribute to integral urbanism. An underlying assumption of the conversations around church-owned land today is that congregations are shrinking and require outside aid to continue operation. This can lead to the conclusion that churches are unsustainable organizations that drain public resources. On the other hand, the material and spiritual outreach a church provides is an asset to the community, and every effort should be made to allow churches to use their land to sustain this outreach.

For some churches, providing affordable housing is an essential part of the mission, and communities can form partnerships with these churches that allow for the development of church-owned land for housing.

There are, however, other mission-related public services that benefit the community, such as soup-kitchens, community education, or recreation, which churches can accommodate on their property as well. Church-owned land can also provide good opportunities for creating public space, an essential component of any urban masterplan.

Historically, many churches have been built with some sort of courtyard or plaza, located outside the church building, where people could gather for some aspect of their common life, whether that be prayer, political action, entertainment, recreation, or commerce. Ultimately, communities have an interest in spiritual centers that are flourishing, not merely on life support, and promoting active and growing church congregations can help communities achieve their long-term land-use goals.

Planning efforts for church-owned land should engage with the planning process of the neighborhood in which it is situated and vice versa.

On sites with room for more than one building, special attention should be given to how they are situated, especially where new development is proposed. The scale, composition and orientation of urban features, including the open space around a church building, are important in meeting the intellectual, psychological, and spiritual needs of a community.

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Finally, we should remember that to build sustainably means re-using structures that have already been built.

Many churches have auxiliary buildings that are historic and well-built but under-utilized. Rectories, convents, and similar residential structures can be incorporated in an affordable housing plan or provide housing for those struggling with homelessness. School buildings can be adapted to housing but are also well-suited to community educational programs and meetings. Church halls can be used for larger community gatherings, entertainment, workshops, exhibitions, etc. Parts of these buildings can also be rented to commercial enterprises.

Philadelphia is home to many historic churches and faith communities with a significant presence in their neighborhoods; this presence includes real estate. Partners for Sacred Places and their Philadelphia Fund for Black Sacred Places—and similar organizations-- are on the front lines of preserving, and more importantly revitalizing church property. I recently had the privilege of participating in a charette at New River Presbyterian Church, which reimagined their property to engage better with their Girard Avenue neighborhood. The opportunities for this type of engagement are everywhere in the city and surrounding communities.

At present, advocates for this type of mutually beneficial arrangement face a variety of challenges, both legal and cultural. Zoning regulations often prohibit multiple uses on a single property or limit the number of buildings on a lot. The alteration of historically designated structures faces additional restraints. Many congregations have no desire to develop their properties, while some communities do not see churches as desirable partners.

The need for housing may help to overcome some of these challenges, but we should look at church-owned land within a broader consideration of how we want to organize our communities and neighborhoods. Church-owned land has a unique role to play in promoting the overall well-being of the community and needs to be integrated into a broader strategy of urban planning policy and design.

Nate Gotcher is a Philadelphia-based architect living with his wife and four children in Ardmore. He is passionate about church architecture, walkable urbanism and how beautiful design can help build community.

This piece originally appeared in the Design Advocacy Group Forum, and is re-published here with permission.