Iconic Wilshire Christian Church up for sale; small congregation gives thanks for what money can’t buy

On this Thanksgiving, a Southland congregation faces its final holiday season in its longtime church home. We’re not talking about the Crystal Cathedral in Garden Grove, but the Wilshire Christian Church west of downtown Los Angeles. The congregation has a rich history, a diverse membership and difficulty keeping a very expensive roof over its head.

At the busy intersection of Wilshire Boulevard and Normandie Avenue in Koreatown, a beautiful bell tower rises above the palm trees that surround it. Architects call the style of the Wilshire Christian Church Italian Romanesque — a handsome tan brick exterior with lots of rounded arches and detailed carvings. Its large, dark doors look as if they belong on an ancient European castle.

Then, there’s what’s inside those doors.

Congregation president Robin Winternheimer said the palatial sanctuary seats about 1,300 people from main floor to balcony.

“Our pews are all curved towards the center," Winternheimer said, describing the church. "It’s more like theater seating rather than your traditional church which is the pews facing straight forward.”

Heavy copper and glass light fixtures hang from a ceiling more than 70 feet high. Ornate oak woodwork accentuates the pulpit. This is the functional heart of a sprawling campus that includes more than 40,000 square feet of classrooms, offices, a private chapel and an outdoor playground.

William Backstrom is the church’s interim minister. He’s worked with this Disciples of Christ congregation for about three years.

“The question that is being struggled with here is 'can this church continue to exist in this building? Is the building really larger and more expensive than this congregation can afford?' And the answer of course to that is 'true,'" said Backstrom.

In the early 1920s, architect Robert Orr designed this space for hundreds of worshippers. These days you‘d be hard pressed to find a hundred people in it. Or 50. Of several dozen people who belong to Wilshire Christian Church, only half usually show for Sunday services.

During the summer, the church’s realtors erected a couple of big yellow “for sale” signs on either side of the building. Months later, the placards remain. Someone’s scrawled graffiti on one of them.

On the rainy Sunday before Thanksgiving, Reverend Backstrom preached a sermon to the small number of people scattered about the pews. He stepped down from the pulpit and moved closer to them.

Backstrom shared the story of a sinner who wandered into a church, got baptized and began shouting.

“He said ‘hot dog, hot dog, hot dog!’ And all the congregation started to laugh," emphasized Backstrom. "And the minister said ‘No, wait a minute. This man’s never been to church. He doesn’t know hallelujah. He doesn’t know praise. He doesn’t know all the things we do. ‘Hot dog’ is his way of saying 'Thanksgiving to God.'”

This story isn’t just a parable to one of Wilshire Christian’s newest members, a man named Don. He attended after a church staffer invited him.

For at least two Sundays, Don sat quietly in the back of the sanctuary before he decided to join. After a service, other church members greeted Don during fellowship time. He’s a bald, rugged-faced 50-year-old who walks with a cane. Tattoos cover his arms and legs.

“I had to come to a point in my life where I had to completely surrender to something bigger than I am. And in that world I was pretty big,” Don said.

Don’s in a Los Angeles County parole program. He’s spent more than half his life in prison. He wouldn’t say what for — only that he’s made “every mistake in the book.”

“Myself, I was baptized in prison," Don said. "I’ll probably be baptized again here. And I have no doubt this church will take me to places that I need to be.”

Chaplain Willis “Buddy” Clark, who calls himself Wilshire Christian’s backup quarterback, offered Don some encouragement.

“I have been in prison," Clark tells him. "We have a prison ministry here, and Don, we’re gonna do it together."

"Yes, sir. Yes, sir," Don responded.

Don wasn't at the church on another recent Sunday. Over the years, congregation staff have seen people like him come and go. Interim Pastor Backstrom said he hopes to see Don again.

“But I would not be surprised if he’s one who was around for a while and then didn’t come back," Backstrom admits. "If everybody who joined had stayed here, the congregation would be probably twice the size that it is now, but that hasn’t happened.”

That’s one reason the church has had money trouble in the last decade. Years ago, people packed the pews. But church staffers say many members have moved away or died.

Location is another factor — in mid-Wilshire, apartments and businesses occupy the spaces where private homes once stood. Finally, there’s a popular misconception that because the church is in Koreatown, its services and congregation are Korean.

Not true.

On any given Sunday, blacks, whites, Chinese, Middle Easterners, Filipinos and Koreans attend services together.

“That’s pretty unique," said congregation president Robin Winternheimer. “And we’ve had a lot of people say that we’re an Anglo church, well we’re not an Anglo church. We’re an English-speaking church and we might be holding on to a tradition that doesn’t quite fit the area anymore.”

Members recently gathered to enjoy a Thanksgiving potluck in the fellowship hall below the sanctuary. Seated around tables, younger congregants laughed and shared stories with people who’ve stuck with this church for decades.

Many expressed optimism about the future despite the likelihood they’ll have to find another place to worship. A much smaller place. But they maintained that their faith and fellowship matter more than a building.

Still, some of them admitted it’s tough to realize that their ability to worship in this great big building may end soon.

If you can afford it, the realtor wants to hear from you.