A veil of white dust covers the organ, the pulpit and the pews at the Grand Lutheran Church in Fort Lauderdale, a house of God bought by developers who planned to raze it for townhouses.

Three years later, the steeple and stained glass still stand, and the developers are desperate to sell the church at 1801 NE 13th St. In a last-ditch marketing bid, they recently pitched signs that say, more or less, ``buy this church or we'll bulldoze it in 29 days.''

``I don't want to say it was a mistake, but churches are very difficult deals to move,'' said Danny Koplowitz, an investor in the property now listed for $3.25 million.

In South Florida's bleak real-estate market, houses for sale aren't the only glut. Churches and other religious properties, some of them bank foreclosures, are plentiful, and stuck in a commercial purgatory. Potential buyers -- mainly other churches -- are being shunned by lenders due to dwindling collection-plate revenues and fears of having to ``foreclose on God'' if the economy deteriorates further.

Last month, the Catholic Archdiocese of Miami closed down 13 struggling parishes throughout Miami-Dade and Broward counties. Most of those church buildings are now for sale, said Mary Ross Agosta, the diocesan spokeswoman.

``It's like selling the family home you grew up in when your parents move to Florida or Alaska,'' said Ross Agosta. ``It's emotionally upsetting. These are places where people got married. They baptized their children there.''

SOCIETAL ANGUISH

The closure of a house of worship and its debut in real-estate listings differs from other commercial properties, though they are marketed, appraised and sold in much the same way.

Churches, synagogues and mosques are deeply woven into the communities that surround them and are hubs of civic life, learning and fellowship.

Although Harry Fatal is a Baptist, he said the Oct. 1 closing of the Catholic Divine Mercy Haitian Mission just up the street from his home in Fort Lauderdale cut a hole in the small Haitian neighborhood.

``The neighborhood feels it. When the church was there, you see people coming and going every day, every night. Now, you see, the corner is dead.''

The darkened church still makes Mary Lyce weep. She's lived across the street from the mission for the past 28 years.

``I love my church. I love my church,'' said Lyce, originally from Haiti. Lyce still prays in a small grotto accessible from the street, pleading for her family in her homeland, for white people, black people, poor people, rich people, she said. ``I pray for everybody.''

The recession is sparing no creed. In October, Fort Lauderdale-based Stonegate Bank filed a foreclosure against Chabad Lubavitch, a Boynton Beach synagogue, for a $3.8 million loan. Rabbi Sholom Ciment said the synagogue was not for sale but would not comment further.

Recently, too, Tabernacle of Pentecost Church in Royal Palm Beach entered foreclosure after falling behind on a $4.8 million loan. Pastor Daniel Kyle did not return calls for comment.

An inability to sell 12 foreclosed churches was partly behind the bankruptcy filing last year of Maitland-based Church Mortgage and Loan, which helped churches and ministries expand during the boom. The company's bankruptcy lawyer, Elizabeth Green of the Baker Hostetler firm in Orlando, said the company had sold only two churches since then.

FORM OVER FUNCTION

The niche market and architectural features of religious properties mean quick sales are tough -- even in good times. Often, churches are located in residential neighborhoods, preventing their sale as commercial property. Moral concerns also limit their use for commercial purposes even when a would-be buyer is found.

In the Roman Catholic Church, for instance, canon law forbids a bishop from selling sacred buildings for ``sordid'' purposes. A special decree from the bishop is required to free up a Catholic church for other uses.

``For most Protestant churches, the church is just a building, a facility. The church is the people,'' said Peter Medina, a commercial real-estate broker who is trying to sell a nondenominational Christian church in Pembroke Pines. ``We've positioned it to be a church, a performing arts center, a dance studio.''

For the Wilson family, who have owned The House of God of Nazarene in the heart of Overtown since the early 1980s, the idea of selling the historic structure for use as a nightclub makes them shudder, but the burden of a past-due mortgage is forcing them to entertain all offers.

``It's stressful. It's hard to sell the church,'' LeRoy Wilson said. ``If I had the funds, there would be no problem. There are too many things you could do with it.''

Wilson's mother, Alberta Wilson Walker, was the church's pastor for more than two decades. After her death in 2002, the congregation split up and the church fell into disrepair.

Seeing the old building still makes Wilson's heart ache. ``It's a gorgeous church, she's a beauty -- a little steeple, no bells,'' he said. Behind the stage, rising above the pulpit, is a fading fresco of a black Jesus Christ ascending through the clouds to heaven.

``The spirit was alive in here,'' said Ceceilia Wilson, LeRoy Wilson's sister. ``It was a wonderful place to be on Sundays.''

Like homes and businesses, churches were also beneficiaries of the surge in lending during the boom years. Heavy borrowing that went to expand or create daycare centers, schools and community centers has come to haunt many churches now mired in red ink.

``There is a whole industry of church finance consultants, and when money was easy, there were a lot of people out there encouraging congregations to go to the next level, if you will,'' said the Rev. Russell Meyer, executive director of the Florida Council of Churches and a Lutheran pastor. ``They pretty much operated under the argument, ` If you build it they will come,' which is just not true.''

A SAFE BET?

From a lender's standpoint, religious institutions were often considered a safe credit risk, not only because congregations tend to be steady givers, but because it was thought they felt a moral obligation to pay debts. For the most part, that is still the case.

``We have had a history of very low delinquencies, and, up until 2007, literally no loan losses on real-estate-secured loans'' in our 45-year history, said Jac La Tour, spokesman for the Brea, Calif.-based Evangelical Christian Credit Union, one of the country's largest church lenders.

But the company has foreclosed on about a dozen churches in the past two years. La Tour said the credit union also is working to avoid foreclosures by modifying loans.

Still, a lot of banks have stayed away from churches, said Raul Valdes-Fauli, president and chief executive of Miami-Dade County CNLBank.

``It's kind of hard to foreclose on God. It always makes the paper as the big bad bank against the church,'' he said. ``If you can get comfortable with the metrics to make sure they are on solid financial footing, I think it's good business.''

Does God get a good rate?

``Usually, there is some friendly pricing for church deals,'' Valdes-Fauli said.

Just as the credit crunch is preventing many people from purchasing homes, faith communities are also finding it tough to buy. Even though Koplowitz, the developer, and LeRoy Wilson in Overtown say they have received viable offers, deals are falling through because loans and grant money are scarce.

``There are more buyers than churches for sale,'' said Harry Jordan, a commercial associate with NAI Miami who specializes in religious properties.

There are more buyers than synagogues, too, according to Hillary Garbarino, a commercial associate with Brenner Real Estate Group in Fort Lauderdale. She was involved in Temple Beth Israel's recent purchase of a large commercial space near Ikea in Sunrise because there were no built synagogues available in the area.

Even in this market, some deals are being consummated.

Valdes-Fauli said he made a loan to a church in Miami-Dade less than six months ago. Jordan said he has a contract on a large Methodist church in Hollywood that has been listed for two years. The last listing price for the 35,000-square-foot church with the towering spire was $4.9 million.

Other potential sellers, such as Archbishop Wayne Manning of Omega Church in Fort Lauderdale, believe God has intervened. Omega was facing foreclosure before the lender reduced his monthly mortgage payments from $5,000 to about $2,000, Manning said.

That will allow him to continue his ministry of spreading the gospel and caring for the poor until he can find a buyer.

``God's been good to us,'' Manning said.