| The scene seems typically Calgarian. Well-dressed people stream into a giant building. On one side of the atrium, people are lining up at a counter to buy coffee and muffins. On the other, there are information and security booths. On the far wall, water runs down sheets of thick glass that stretch from close to the ceiling into a small pool. At the entrance of the building there is a map display complete with a big red "you are here" arrow.
This is Centre Street Church, a giant 130,000 square-foot evangelical megachurch in the northeast. On the outside it looks something like a Future Shop with a cross on top; on the inside, more like a conference centre.
This is Calgary’s first big-box church – a growing trend in the U.S. – and more are on the way. First Alliance Church is finishing up construction on an $18.5-million facility in the southeast, and Westside King’s Church, a Pentecostal church in the southwest, has controversial plans for an $11-million church complex.
Centre Street’s $16-million building (or "campus") is in a seemingly bizarre location, surrounded by auto repair shops and other small industrial businesses. Everything about the church still looks new and contrasts sharply with the rundown shops that surround it. The building is untouched by time and the sod strips still have browned edges.
A church of this size raises some interesting logistical and theological questions. How can human connections be made between the thousands of people that come to a megachurch every weekend? And to what extent does the megachurch reduce religion to just one more form of the consumerism that permeates almost every aspect of our society?
WHY PEOPLE COME
When this reporter donned his Sunday best (sweaty cycling clothes) to attend the 9 a.m. Sunday service at Centre Street and find answers to these questions, I was almost immediately approached by one of the greeters that welcome people who look bewildered.
The greeter, an elderly gentleman named Phil, introduced himself and shook my hand. We sat down at a table at the Common Ground Café and I asked him why so many people come here. He answered succinctly.
"Pastor Henry Schorr. He’s a very humble person, but he’s the main reason," says Phil. "He’s a very good teacher and preacher."
Schorr, 51, has been a pastor at the church for 24 years. He started as a youth pastor, and now leads a team of about 24 pastors (the number is constantly increasing) at Centre Street. Schorr has seen the church grow from its relatively humble residence at the old Centre Street Church building just up the hill on 40 Avenue – which is now the church’s three-acre "west campus" – to the new facility that attracts between 5,000 and 6,000 people every weekend. Schorr has an idea about why so many people come here each weekend, and it’s not himself.
"We have been very committed as a church to communicating biblical truth in a relevant way," says Schorr. "We are a church that values prayer…. I don’t want to underestimate how important that is. It’s huge."
Schorr says that another reason his church is growing is because they "minister to the generations." Each of the weekend church services has a different format, and there are evening services throughout the week for different age groups.
Schorr is a sincere man who’s obviously loved and appreciated by the people who attend Centre Street. He also has a deep affection for the people of his church. (He’s known for ending his pastoral letters with this line: "I love being your pastor.")
Schorr’s sincere conviction is evident when he’s speaking about the spiritual mission of his church.
"We’re trying to take the love of Jesus everywhere we can," says Schorr. The church regularly works alongside organizations like Habitat for Humanity, the Interfaith Food Bank and the Mustard Seed Street Ministry (Pat Nixon, the Mustard Seed’s founder, attends Centre Street) to serve the less fortunate of society.
"When people are that way, there’s something about that that God uses to attract other people," says Schorr. "Our church is exploding in part because of people excited about what God’s doing here among us. And they’re inviting others."
THE DEATH OF ART
Centre Street’s 2,500-seat "worship centre" was built so that it could easily be expanded to hold about 3,800 people. In fact, the whole building was designed with expansion in mind: the atrium can more than double in length, and each of the wings that hold offices, chapels and other rooms can go up two more floors.
There is no art in the worship centre, only a small and simple cross to the right of the massive stage. When the giant room is empty of people, it’s depressingly bland. There is nothing beautiful or interesting to look at, just a large stage with a big screen hanging overtop. This is a striking feature of megachurches: there is very little, if any, art.
"Most of these big megachurches tend to be Protestant," says Anne Moore, a religious studies professor at the University of Calgary. "And Protestants downplay the art."
The lack of anything artistic or symbolic in megachurches can simultaneously attract and repel people, says Moore. On one hand, by choosing to have no art, a church doesn’t run the risk of offending any of the different groups of people that come to the church. Images can be put on the stage or the screen and taken off just as easily. On the other hand, many people – churchgoers and non-churchgoers alike – find great meaning, or at least beauty, in religious art. By removing symbols and images, Moore says megachurches are neglecting a rich element of their religious heritage.
"Christianity was a religion that was filled with symbolism," says Moore. "It is a rich, deep and complex language. But you have to educate people in that language. And then you have to educate people in the theology that goes with that language.
"In Europe, people will be aware of the symbols because it’s been part of the culture and they’re aware of the complexity. In North America, we just don’t take the time. So why put up symbols that are no longer part of our experience?"
Megachurch services also tend to be more theatrical than ritualistic, says Moore. "Much more music, and sound-byte type of preaching – not that any of that’s negative, it’s just another way of delivering the message."
A Sunday morning service at Centre Street is certainly a vivacious event. Over 60 people get on the stage – some in the choir, some in the band – and kick off the service with upbeat renditions of old hymns. The bleary-eyed worship leader is magnified on the screen hanging above the stage for the benefit of those in the "nosebleed section," as one churchgoer beside me called the upper seats. The songs are interjected with solos by passionate singers who regularly close their eyes and touch their hearts with their hands.
Schorr is away today, and so Kervin Raugust, the church’s executive pastor, is preaching.
"What if I told you that in my preparation for this Sunday, I heard God talk?" asks Raugust, before launching into a sermon on what to do when faith-threatening questions come up in life. "When faith-threatening questions go unanswered, the problem is not with God. The problem is with us," says Raugust, warning the assembled against looking for answers in "the world" instead of in God.
"We are at war with the world, friends," he says. "We’re born into this world with an unclean heart…. That’s why we come to places like this, because the world tends to corrupt our minds. We come here to clean up our minds."
GROWING UP
In 1958, 61 parishioners from Salem Evangelical Church in Bridgeland started Centre Street Church. Less than 50 years later, the church now has about 85 people on staff, and about 55 of those are full-time.
"We didn’t set out to be a large church," says Schorr. "I didn’t set out, none of us set out to be a large church. And quite frankly, we’ve had church growth experts show up here and say, ‘Henry, your church has broken every rule of church growth there is, and you’re still growing like crazy.’
"The challenge that we face more than anything is the perception that people have at first, when they first come, and it’s overwhelming."
To meet this challenge, Centre Street has over 500 "small groups," weekly gatherings of church attendees in homes and other places around the city. Schorr says the church leaders sometimes refer to the groups as "small churches." These groups tend to be organized around different interests and themes, as well as location. Schorr says many Centre Street attendees drive for more than an hour one way to get to the church.
Anne Moore likens the small group system to the different sections of a department store.
"Our communities are formed over like interests," says Moore. "I might be able to find that type of like group within a large church whereas I might not be able to find it in a smaller one…. There is very much a consumer aspect in that what you’re doing is going to that megachurch and seeing which departments you want to access."
Those inside the church, however, say it’s not about consumerism at all.
"It’s always interesting to me when I talk with people who had a perception of our church before they came," says Schorr. "They assumed that we were this big because we were just putting on a big show and entertaining people, and I think that when they got here… they just sensed God here. There’s something about the message itself and about the worship and the love of the people. They just realized that this has not been about commercialization."
THE YOUNG
At Quest, the church’s weekly young adults meeting at the west campus, a four-member band leads about 100 18- to 25-year-olds in high-energy songs about the love of God. Brad McGillvrey, the band’s leader, strums his acoustic guitar with fervour and the songs he’s playing have a punk edge to them. (He says The Used and Underoath are two of his favourite bands.)
McGillvrey refers to the main church services in the new building as "big church," and laments that they sometimes take his sound cables for their services. There are some other things about big church that are difficult, McGillvrey admits.
"We have a music pastor here, but I’ve never even met him," he says. "He doesn’t even know what’s going on up here."
McGillvrey prefers the smaller young adult gathering over "big church" because he can get to know people better and build relationships with them. Many of the young adults at the service cite community as one of the biggest reasons they come here every week. But they also like the music, which is evident by the many raised and clapping hands in the room.
Steve Pahl, Centre Street’s young adults pastor and the leader of this service, looks younger than his age of 37 and is clearly respected by most of the people present. He’s been with the church for less than a year and is optimistic about the future.
"We’re trying to focus on three things," he says. "Music, because it connects culturally with people; trying to provide biblical answers to life’s questions; and relationship."
Pahl hopes that people can find a place at Centre Street through smaller gatherings like this one.
"Here it’s not just X number of people," he says. "It’s something real."
Everyone here seems very aware of the giant size of the church – one young woman jokes that the new building reminds her of a mall – but most seem content.
"It’s not Centre Street Church’s fault that they’re so big," says McGillvrey. "They just did things that a lot of people really enjoyed." |
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