Specifically, within Protestantism, especially low-church, non-liturgical, non-sacramental expressions of Protestantism, there is a wariness in declaring anything in the world as a particular location of the holy. Buildings are not sacred spaces, buildings are utilitarian and functional. Nor does any object possess sacred potency, like holy water in the Catholic tradition.
As I recount in Hunting Magic Eels, there are good reasons for why many Protestants drifted in this direction. As I was told repeatedly growing up in the Churches of Christ, "We don't 'go' to church. We are the church. God doesn't live in a building." And that is certainly true. Church buildings are not temples. God is everywhere. We don't need to go anywhere to encounter God. God is right where you are standing.
And yet, in an increasingly post-Christian world, if we don't have visible reminders of God's presence in the world we can miss seeing God anywhere in the world. God is everywhere, true enough, but God is also invisible. Thus, one of the recommendations in Hunting Magic Eels, if you are dealing with disenchantment and God's invisibility in your life, is to be intentional in making God materially visible in your spaces.
C.S. Lewis once reflected on these tensions in his book Letters to Malcolm:
It is well to have specifically holy places, and things, and days, for, without these focal points or reminders, the belief that all is holy and "big with God" will soon dwindle into a mere sentiment. But if these holy places, things, and days cease to remind us, if they obliterate our awareness that all ground is holy and every bush (could we but perceive it) a Burning Bush, then the hallows begin to do harm.