Chapels turned into homes: living amongst stained-glass windows and vaulted ceilings

Morning light streams through a century-old stained-glass window. Blue, gold and purple diamond shapes are cast onto the floor. But there are no prayer benches or flickering candles here anymore. Instead, there is a linen sofa and a walnut coffee table with a cup of coffee on it. This place, once consecrated, is now a family home. This light, which has remained unchanged for centuries, now illuminates a very different kind of contemplation.

Across Europe, deconsecrated chapels, churches and temples are enjoying a new lease of life. In France, 274 churches have been deconsecrated in less than ten years, with between ten and fifteen being put up for sale each year. The trend has been gaining momentum in the Netherlands, England and Sweden for several decades. Individuals, architects and families are converting these buildings into extraordinary homes. The sacred has left the walls, but the beauty remains.

The dizzying scale of the space raises the question: how do you live with such verticality?

Richard Law; Wikimedia

The first thing that strikes you when you enter a chapel that has been converted into a home is the height of the ceilings. Naves with seven-, eight-, or even ten-metre-high ceilings offer a sense of space that contemporary homes rarely provide. The arches trace majestic curves above the family’s daily life. Every step echoes, and every gaze is drawn upwards.

In Chicago, architects Linc Thelen and Scrafano transformed a former church into a 510-square-metre loft with seven bedrooms, six bathrooms, and a seven-and-a-half-metre-high ceiling in the main room. The immaculate walls amplify this sensation of infinite space. In Utrecht, the Netherlands, studio Zecc Architecten has converted St. Jakobus Church, which has been closed to worshippers since 1991, into a private residence. In order to embrace the verticality of the building without compromising its integrity, the architects have inserted modular floors into the nave, creating additional levels while preserving the original sightlines. A contemporary staircase rises towards the filtered light of the stained-glass windows — a silent conversation between two eras.

A dialogue across the centuries to preserve the memory of the walls

Rogeriomachado; Flickr

The real challenge of these conversions extends beyond the technical. They touch on emotion and memory. How can a place of worship be transformed into a family home while preserving its past? The most successful projects strike a balance between the existing heritage and the demands of modern life.

In London’s Notting Hill neighbourhood, for example, the top two floors of Westbourne Grove Church — a Baptist chapel dating from 1853 — have been converted into a contemporary apartment. The original pillars remain in the spacious living room, while the vibrant stained-glass windows overlook a spiral staircase that leads to the mezzanine. The red brick exterior remains intact.

Near Amsterdam, in Muiden, a 1920s church has also undergone a striking conversion. The vaulted ceilings and original stained-glass windows have been preserved. Whitewashed walls and light oak flooring fill the 290 square metres of living space with light. A notable detail is that the bedroom doors have been left as they were: heavy timber doors with period metal knockers.

In the small village of Tavey in Franche-Comté, architect Guillaume Aubel has transformed a church found on a classifieds website into a family home. The former porch has been converted into an office with an outdoor seating area. The carefully remodelled openings feature wooden and aluminium joinery.

The new sacred

Himmelska glädjens kapell ; Ulkl; Wikimedia

Beyond the architectural feat, living in a chapel fulfils a deep-seated desire: to live in a place steeped in history and bathed in light that cannot be designed for commercial purposes. Contemporary architecture tends to feature thin walls and low ceilings. These old chapels offer the opposite, providing generous spaces, fine materials, and enveloping acoustics.

In Sweden, for example, a former Baptist church dating from 1896 has been converted into Glädjens Kapell, or the “Chapel of Joy”. Converted into a guesthouse, it is entirely clad in white. This total whiteness alters the perception of space, amplifies the natural light, and creates a suspended, almost unreal, atmosphere. In northern France, Gwen and Alex are renovating a modest chapel nestled amongst old workers’ houses with their own hands. Their project, documented on social media, shows a patient and loving transformation. “Our chapel is shy and discreet,” they write. It is precisely this intimacy that gives it its charm.

These converted chapels serve as a reminder of a certain truth. Heritage only survives if it is occupied, cherished and lived in. Preserving a building in its original state after the congregation has disappeared is akin to condemning it to oblivion. Inhabiting a building, however, prolongs its life.