What is a church? Stained glass ... or people?

Some people think a church is a big, imposing building, preferably built of brick or stone, and with a tall spire. It should have welcoming doors, arched at the top would be nice; large and beautiful stained glass windows, and an organ with hundreds of brass pipes filling the front of the sanctuary.

It is, after all, the House of God.

Racine's First Baptist Church was one of those. It pre-dated the Racine County Courthouse, which sits catty-corner at the intersection of Wisconsin Avenue and 8th Street, by half a century, and the boxy and undistinguished jail addition which now rudely crowds the church's front entrance.

It was a grand church, with a large, high-ceilinged sanctuary, an attractive balcony strung along three sides, a big kitchen for preparing meals for the poor. Its large rose window, above, is second to none.

Next door to the south, attached to the church, is a three-story community building with classrooms, a gymnasium, a small chapel, even a two-lane bowling alley in the basement. Gorton Hall, the addition is called; it was built and paid for by the Gorton family, congregants of First Baptist, and donated to the church.

This, clearly, is a church with a proud history, one of the earliest in Racine. Go back 167 years to 1840 -- just six years after Gilbert Knapp founded the settlement of Port Gilbert that would later become Racine -- and you'd run into the Rev. Jason Lathrop, formerly of Kenosha, who organized Racine's First Baptist Church here on April 25, 1840. There were 16 parishioners. The city later named an important street after him.

The church's cornerstone, which proudly reads "1876," doesn't tell half its history: this, actually, is the third church the congregation constructed. The first, built in 1850, later burned down. Its replacement, while under construction, also fell victim to fire.

So the congregation moved downtown, to the site on Wisconsin, and built the impressive church you see there today.

The one that's now vacant. Forlorn. For sale. (Listing HERE.)

What is a church? Is it the building, or is it the congregation? Bricks, mortar and stained glass ... or people with God in their hearts and a mission?

First Baptist's transformation occurred four years ago. That wonderful old church was showing its age. There was a "pesky" leak in the roof, and although various roofing companies "fixed" it, the fixes only lasted until the next rain. The estimate for a new roof: $70,000. The boiler became temperamental, requiring $25,000 a year just to keep it functioning. The elevator was questionable. The south wall of the church started bowing outward, stabilized finally by strong steel girders erected in the courtyard between the church proper and Gorton Hall.

"We could have fixed this, and that," said Pastor Holly Anderle, "but we asked the question: 'Are we going to spend the rest of our lives ministering to people, or ministering to a building?' "

"We're so much more than that white elephant," says the Rev. Anderle, who spent nine years as an Army officer before realizing, "there's only so long you can run from God." She led the congregation to the present First Baptist Church -- a rented, one-story structure behind a strip mall. Even knowing the address, 3117 Lathrop Ave., I drove by it, twice, unable to find it.

Pastor Holly Anderle in new sanctuary

Yes, it's a former warehouse. Some old-timers might remember it as Cindy's restaurant. (The drive-up window can still be found inside what's now the sanctuary.) And there's no stained glass. In its last iteration, before the blue sign by the street was painted over, it was the Abundant Life Church.

Now, this is the First Baptist Church, and the congregation is happy here. Praying. Teaching.Growing.

The final service in the old church was in 2003. A flyer taped to the door then still tells visitors where services are now conducted. The underlying message: "We're still alive; we've just moved."

"As much as it hurt to leave, if we were going to be a church, we had to leave that building. We're a congregation, not a building," the Rev. Anderle said.

"We're concerned about people. In the old church, we had a hot meal program on Mondays for the needy; today we do that at the Salvation Army. We're more interested in people being loved, and being part of the church family."

First Baptist has gained some new members since the move in 2004, a good mix of older and younger. "We're moving toward a blended kind of worship; not being hidebound; using new music. Our Sunday school kids made a videotape of a newscast as it might have been done in Jesus' time; we have to bring religion home to the kids. Our biggest focus is keeping things authentic."

First Baptist keeps things authentic in two languages, for two congregations. They shared the old church with a sister church, Iglesia Bautista Renacer, a Hispanic American Baptist congregation, and those parishioners came along to the new location. First Baptist holds its Sunday services at 10:30 a.m.; Iglesia Bautista Renacer holds its services at noon. The Rev. Juan Trujillo is its pastor.

Congregants from both churches helped remodel the building when they moved in and built the altar. "We're both stronger together," said the Rev. Anderle.

"It's important that people know this is a living church. People think we're so depressed at losing that wonderful building, but we're full of life and excitement."

Parishioners share her feelings. At a Bible study this week, I talked to a group of church members. "The people are the church," said Donna Peters. "I miss the church, but the people are still here," agreed Sheryl Krohn. Joyce Aber said, "I miss the organ. But when we got here, we were very much at home, like a family. I love this church." The organ, noted Ron Brinkmann, went to a Catholic Church in Arizona.

Still, there's some sadness. "We all feel a loss," said Nadia Brinkmann. "I can't wait until the old church is sold."

And what will happen then? "We'll start a building fund," says the Rev. Anderle.