When I began attending Mars Hill Church in 2006, its main facility in Seattle’s Ballard neighborhood was headquarters and clubhouse—a 20,000 square foot renovated hardware warehouse seating over a thousand where young guys loitered in the parking lot and rock music from worship band practices thundered outside after gospel class.
On Sundays, the sight of security guards monitoring the entryway with the impassive self-importance of club bouncers was routine. The church’s foreboding black box exterior contrasted with the soft contours of its cream-colored lobby; further inside, the sanctuary’s dim lighting and vast stage loaded with high end sound equipment and beat up guitars affected the atmosphere of a nightclub. Large screens surrounding the amphitheater issued pronouncements concerning service opportunities, including the need for male volunteers to ‘protect the body.’
Read Full Article »