Dear friend,
There's a red brick wall in our atrium — though you'd never know it. It's hidden behind the sheetrock now, and most Sundays, hundreds of us walk right past it. But that wall was once the front entrance of this church: the doorway thousands of people passed through on their way to prayer, to music, to community, to a word of hope they needed that week.
When the building grew around it decades ago, we didn't tear that wall down. We built on it. And today it's still there — unseen, but holding the building up. I love what that says about us: the things that carried us here don't have to be visible to still be bearing the weight.
That's the story of this community. We began in 1919 as a small study group meeting in a living room. For half a century we gathered wherever we could, until 1973, when this congregation found its home on Golden Valley Road. Every generation since has added something — a room, a program, a song, a welcome — and handed it forward. A hundred years of faith, passed hand to hand, until it reached ours. Most of those hands we never saw. But like that wall, they're still holding us up.
I came to this church 20 years ago, and I felt what so many of you tell me you felt on your first Sunday here:
I'm home. Which is exactly why something has weighed on my heart ever since: not everyone could get all the way in. Our building — beloved as it is — had stairs that stopped some of our elders at the door. Levels a wheelchair couldn't reach. Spaces where a longtime member or a young family had to choose between belonging and access.
That's why this renovation was never really about a building. It was about a promise: that when we say
everyone is here by divine appointment, our doors, our hallways, and our gathering spaces say it too. A new entry. An elevator. Accessible restrooms and gathering spaces on every level. A home where every age and every ability can come in, be uplifted, and truly belong.
I will tell you plainly: in all my years of ministry, I have never been part of anything that has made me prouder. Not because of what we built, but because of what it
honors: the generations of faith that got us here — and what it
promises: that this house will serve generations of faith for the next century.
On Sunday, September 13, we will dedicate this space. And for this one Sunday, our schedule changes: instead of our usual 10:00 AM gathering,
we will hold two Celebration Services — 8:30 AM and 11:00 AM — with a reception following each.
Together we will honor those whose faith and generosity carried us here, and bless this home for those yet to come.
I am personally inviting you to be there. Not because attendance matters, but because you matter to this story. Whether you gave, prayed, volunteered, waited patiently through construction dust, or simply kept showing up — you helped build this.
Please come home to celebrate it. And if there's someone in your life who once called this place home, bring them with you. I'd love to welcome them back through doors that now open for everyone.
I look forward to sharing this sacred celebration with you — the greatest honor of my service to this ministry.
With love and gratitude,
Rev. Pat WilliamsonSenior Minister, Unity Minneapolis
Building DedicationSunday, September 13 | 8:30 AM & 11:00 AM
Reception following both services
4000 Golden Valley Rd, Golden Valley