I’m going with my friend Dave. He became a Christian (was born again) about 12 years ago and is a member of Wooddale Church in Eden Prairie. In the past I’ve declined his invitations to attend church functions. Religion’s not really my bag. Instead I try to nurture my spirit through yoga, meditation and reverie for the natural environment. Going to church was something I did as a teenager to appease my parents. But as soon as I was confirmed we stopped going, so I’m not sure if I was appeasing them or they were appeasing God. In any event, it’s been several years since I participated in organized religion.

But the outcome of November 2 has piqued my curiosity. Experts tell us that “moral issues” proved to be the biggest factor for voters in one of the closest presidential races in U.S. history. And while some people may question the morality of the administration’s policies, others want to know why these voters are such an effective political force.

It’s true that religious conservatives are having an increased impact on U.S. public policy. These people are dedicated and organized, and as a result, successful. Parishioners are moving from the church to the polls, exercising their civic muscles in support of theocrats who further their “moral agenda.” To better understand this powerful political force, I decide to go straight to the source.

I pick up Dave at 9:30. The service doesn’t start until 11:30, but he says he likes to go to the “30-Something” group beforehand—a singles group that meets to connect with God and one another.

As we exit the freeway, traffic is backed up several blocks from the church. Two cops in green fluorescent vests direct the mob, and dozens of orderly cars stream into the parking lot. Wooddale is set on 32 acres off Highway 62. The building itself is enormous—a sprawling red brick complex with a giant, white rocket-like steeple pointing towards the heavens.

Recently I spoke to an architect at a local firm who works exclusively on churches. He’s designed two megachurches in the metropolitan area, and told me that certain elements are commonly used to make megachurches look and feel like shopping malls. Like any successful business, location, convenience and service are key.

Inside, the church is bustling with activity. Swarms of people move through the halls, some chat in small groups. It’s unlike any church I’ve ever been in. There are no images of Jesus, no statues of Mary, not a crucifix in sight. About 25 feet from the entryway, a smartly dressed middle-aged woman stands behind an information desk, directing traffic herself. Surrounded by mounds of literature—newsletters, handouts and pamphlets—she smiles at guests and points them toward the sanctuary.

It feels like we’re maneuvering through a stadium clogged with fans on game day. I want to grab Dave’s hand so I won’t get lost in the crowd. We make our way through the lobby to the Wooddale Café. A bookstore, courtyard and library surround clusters of tables and chairs. Multiple television monitors are mounted on pillars, broadcasting the worship service in progress. Throngs of hungry parishioners wait patiently in a long line for coffee and sweets.

Wooddale employs its own pastry chef (as well as a chef de cuisine) and from the looks of it, today’s offerings are well worth the wait. My heart begins to race just looking at the veritable tray of treacle: Turnovers bursting with apples, cherry filled croissants drizzled with chocolate, glazed donuts, sugar cookies and banana chip muffins all vie for attention from the edge of the counter. One fellow sits by himself, spooning bites from a chocolate-filled pastry shell and washing it down with a carton of chocolate milk.

We skip the nosh and buzz past a number of small meeting rooms labeled with today’s discussion topics (9:00: “Making Sense of Creation and Evolution,” 10:15: “Handling Difficult Situations”). A banner hanging outside one room announces “Classes at Disciple U.” This is not simply a church, it’s a religious campus—a fusion of theology, education and business.

I ask Dave about the environment. He explains that Wooddale is committed to providing multiple opportunities for people to feel “connected.” It’s a theme common among megachurches. In addition to numerous social, recreational and aid ministries, megachurches focus on enhancing congregational community through home fellowships and interest-based small groups.

Wooddale offers dozens of these opportunities, including Bible study, social events, mission trips and retreats for the 20, 30 and 40-somethings, as well as Midlife (50+) and Berean (over 60) groups.

There are groups designated Couples and Young Families (for those with or without preschool through elementary aged children); Engaged Young Marrieds (couples in their 20s and 30s); ProTeen (parents of teens) and Second Half (adult “empty nesters”).

If none of these affiliations strike your fancy, you can select a gender-based group. The Men’s Adult Ministry offers Bible study fellowship, breakfast gatherings, a father/daughter event, a father/son event, a golf classic, one-to-one discipling, special interest events and a weekly men’s study group.

For women the list is even more exhaustive: Bible studies (Tuesdays, Wednesdays, First Steps in Christian Life, Small Group and Hispanic); Connecting Groups (bonding through special interests like coffee, quilting bees and book clubs) and Encouragement Groups (from mom’s with special-needs kids to women who want to “explore God’s plan for dating and marriage”). And there’s more. Leadership, ministry discovery and outreach events cover everything from writing your own personal mission statement to summer tea parties in the courtyard. And, of course, the annual golf classic.

Finally, the church provides an extensive children’s ministry. Programs like Camp Awesome and W.O.W. (Woods on Wednesdays) are offered, in addition to a Children’s Sunday Morning group and Vacation Bible School. Confident Kids is designed to help children in “highly stressed environments” (divorce, blended families, long distance move, chronic illness) cope by using prayer and scripture. All of the children’s activities take place in the lower level, which also houses a gymnasium, fitness center, rehearsal space for the choir and practice rooms for young musicians.

Dave and I arrive at the “30-Something” group, which is already underway, and quietly take a seat near the front. It’s a full house and some people are standing in the back. Cloth-covered metal chairs are arranged neatly in rows facing the front of the room. A man stands at a podium addressing the crowd, white board on his left and overhead projector to his right. Today, and for the next two Sundays, guest pastor Tim has come to present a three-part series entitled “The Power of Passion.”

Today’s topic is “needs.” Pastor Tim flips on the overhead and begins to talk about which human needs are met by God. Pastor Tim believes that despite His omniscience and divine power, God does not meet all our needs. People still need people.

Using the overhead, he explains his theory using stick figures of Adam and Eve, bold arrows and a list of “needs” shouted out by the audience. It’s a blend of theology and psychology—Luis Palau meets Dr. Phil. In fact, Pastor Tim peppers his lecture with phrases like “get real” when describing dating and relationships. He assures us that a connection to Christ brings peace and leads to meaningful, intimate relationships, but doesn’t necessarily guarantee we’ll find Mr. or Ms. Right.

I look around the room. Some people nod knowingly. Others don’t seem so convinced. Pastor Tim concludes his lecture and ends with a prayer. Then Eric, a 30-Something regular, steps up to the podium and shares his personal story about needs and dating. His testimonial dovetails perfectly with Pastor Tim’s message. It seems to seal the deal for those who may have doubted. Another prayer from Eric, then Stacy concludes the meeting with announcements for the upcoming Christmas social, women’s international night, dinner and fellowship and prayer circles. After a closing prayer, there’s 10 minutes left to mingle before the 11:30 service.

Dave introduces me to his friends. There’s a guy with a nametag that reads “John turtle cheesecake” and a woman, “Betsy ice cream.” Because we came in late, we missed making nametags that include our favorite dessert. I’m grateful for the anonymity, but tell John and Betsy that I prefer crème brulee.

It’s nearly time for the main event. On our way to the service a handsome young man with short dark hair and a pearly grin slaps Dave on the back. “Well, we lost Minnesota, but at least we won the country,” he exclaims. They laugh, shaking hands, and Dave introduces me to his friend, Steve. With a brief nod, Steve turns his attention back to Dave. He says he’s frustrated and dismayed at all the “ungracious” Democratic losers who, despite John Kerry’s recent defeat, refuse to remove their lawn signs and bumper stickers. I add that I’ve seen as much Bush/Cheney paraphernalia, but Steve disagrees and again turns his attention back to Dave. “The country’s better off…good work, buddy,” he says, disappearing into the crowd.

We enter the “worship center,” which is really more like a theater than a church. Stadium-seating in the lower-level and balcony rings the stage, which is illuminated by spotlights. White walls are accented with blonde wood, well buffed and shiny. Light filters in from the 220-foot steeple above, but there is no stained glass, and still no images of Jesus and Mary. One simple wooden cross, about 5 feet high, sits to the right of the pulpit. Built in 1988, this 63,000 square-foot sanctuary seats 2,000, and this morning it’s nearly full.

And very white. In the literally hundreds (if not thousands) of members I’ve seen today, only two have been people of color. I ask Dave about diversity, and he assures me that Wooddale’s membership is indeed an ethnic blend. But that’s hard to see. Today’s crowd is almost exclusively white, well-dressed, and on average, about 25 to 55 years old.

We squeeze into a pew as the music swells. This is the Contemporary Service. A 10-piece band, including guitar, bass, drums, percussion, piano, synthesizer and horns, blasts Christian rock. The sound system is state-of-the-art, flawless. Six vocalists belt out jazzy inspirational tunes, as images of waves crashing along a rocky coastline are projected onto two giant screens suspended from the ceiling.

A gentle-looking gray haired man wearing khakis and a blue button-down shirt approaches the stage. He’s Senior Pastor Bob and he’s been involved with Wooddale Church since 1977. Pastor Bob greets the parish and leads us in prayer. Instantly 2,000 heads droop in unison and the room falls silent. As I look ahead, I see a shabbily dressed man enter the scene from backstage. He’s holding a “homeless and hungry” sign. A young couple emerges, stage right. As soon as Pastor Bob utters “amen” heads pop back up and the drama begins to unfold.

The “actors” role-play their way through a skit about giving. The homeless guy remains stationary and does not approach the couple. Mr. and Mrs. Yuppie begin to argue: she wants to give the bum money and her husband adamantly objects. In the end, she hands over a $10 bill and exchanges a “God bless you” with the homeless man.

Pastor Bob returns to the stage, ready to deliver today’s sermon. As he begins to speak, “The Joy of Giving” appears in giant letters across both screens. I scan the room and see rapt parishioners anxiously awaiting the Word. Even the group of teenagers in the balcony looks wide-eyed and focused. Pastor Bob’s delivery is equal parts preacher and motivational speaker. No monotonous, scriptural lullaby here. His tone is lighthearted, colloquial and he frequently garners chuckles from the audience. He wears a wireless microphone and saunters freely from the stage to the aisles.

His message is simple: God is pleased by those who give graciously, generously; not conditionally or with reluctance. Dave immediately references the appropriate Corinthians passage and hands me a Bible. Pastor Bob reads aloud as choreographed scripture dances across the screen. More prayer, a parishioner testimonial (or “faith story,” to legitimize the teaching) songs, offering and that’s a wrap. It’s been nothing short of a religious multimedia extravaganza.

The crowd streams out of the worship center, many heading back to the café for coffee and fellowship. We grab a muffin and find an empty table. Dave introduces me to more friends. Anja is a young woman from the Ukraine who’s been a member of Wooddale for three years. She left the traditional Orthodox church that her mother attends, preferring the more contemporary setting at Wooddale.

Helen ambles over to say “hello.” An elderly woman, she tells me that she usually ushers, but has been sidelined recently because of a hip injury. She’s got a twinkle in her eye and wears a black fedora-like hat adorned in colored glass beads. She explains that Wooddale is a “seeker church,” attracting people in search of a purpose in life. Helen’s brought several friends to the church, “broken people” whom she hopes can find peace and meaning here. Some, she says, choose not to return; they remain “broken,” because they “lack motivation.”

I ask her about the outreach programs organized by Wooddale. What sort of faith-based initiatives are there? She recounts wildly successful food drives and mentions 12-step support groups, such as Alanon and Gamanon. And there are mission programs.

Indeed, the main purpose of Wooddale, according to its own literature, is “to honor God by making disciples for Jesus Christ.” It’s a fundamental principle of, well, fundamentalism. One pamphlet encourages members to “reach out to friends, neighbors, co-workers and family members” offering a number of training opportunities. In truth, there are an exhaustive number of outreach programs with which Wooddale is affiliated.

Some of its most ambitious activities are the international missions. The “Worldwide” pamphlet states, “We are guided by Jesus’ command to make disciples of all nations.” Moreover, it claims, “Nearly one person in three still does not have access to an understandable presentation of the good news about Jesus. Your help is urgently needed.” According to Wooddale, the Creator has “God-sized projects” for the church, which include evangelical movements in Southeast Asia, India, Guatemala, Bulgaria and Africa. All told, there are 70 international ministries associated with the church.

From global missions to local groups and programs, the message at Wooddale is that connection leads to salvation. But it’s the very size and magnitude of the church that leaves me feeling uneasy. With so many opportunities and countless programs, it seems like members are constantly racing from one activity to the next. In addition to what I imagine is a busy life in the secular world, these folks are inundated with extracurricular church responsibilities. And despite a willingness to participate in religious activities, I wonder if some people aren’t trading quality for quantity. A full day planner doesn’t necessarily translate to a purposeful life. Busy doesn’t mean fulfilled.

As I look around the room, part of me wants to shout: Hey, people! Slow down! Relax… Breathe…Be still.

It’s after 1:30 and most of the church-goers have left for the day. A few stragglers remain, nursing cold coffee and picking at pastry crumbs. Dave and I are about to head home when Pastor Tim, the visiting speaker from the 30-Something group, approaches our table. He joins us and we exchange introductions.

I tell Pastor Tim that, while my experience has been pleasant, I still have reservations about the evangelical movement in general. To me there is too much hypocrisy, too many contradictions. I don’t understand, for example, why some Christians will acknowledge their sin, but act infallible. I’m skeptical of the insularity of evangelicals who denounce rock music and popular culture, only to create imitations for themselves.

And what about those who cast righteous indignity on people with different religious values? How can it be, I wonder, that of all the religions that have existed on Earth for thousands of years, only one—Christianity—is real and true? I don’t understand. Isn’t that like saying: “Meatloaf is the Supreme Dish of all the foods in the world—ever! Forget filet mignon. Keep your curry and kebabs. Sushi? I don’t think so. Meatloaf is the only way to Nutrition!”

I also tell Pastor Tim that I’m confused by the logic of these “moral issues voters.” I want to know how “love thy neighbor” and “thou shalt not kill” translates to unwavering support for political doctrines that occupy and destroy foreign communities. Why only certain lifestyles (that mirror their own) are considered acceptable and others not tolerated. Are Christians on a new crusade in the United States, organizing their political base to “preemptively strike” at legislation aimed to further civil rights?

Pastor Tim acknowledges my concerns. He says he’s lived abroad—in the Middle East and India— and studied the Koran and Hinduism. He admits he doesn’t support the current administration’s foreign policies, specifically Israel and Palestine and the war in Iraq. He says he voted for John Kerry.

But when I ask him directly about the most divisive moral issues in America today, abortion and gay marriage, I’m not surprised to hear that Pastor Tim is pro-life. When it comes to homosexuality and gay marriage, he wavers a bit. He admits having gay friends, isn’t sure if the lifestyle is a “choice,” but thinks it isn’t. Gay marriage? He doesn’t necessarily support a Constitutional amendment, but if push comes to shove, he says he’d probably vote for it. I remain puzzled by the contradictions.

Hours later, I’m back home in the cozy confines of my Northeast Minneapolis apartment. Far away from the sterility and homogeny of suburbia, safe from the chaos of the Christian compound, I ponder the day’s experience. Frankly I’m surprised there was no proselytizing, no inflammatory clergy or pushy parishioners. Perhaps they’re more clever, subversive. Or maybe they’re saving themselves for the secular community at large. Either way, I have to admit they were a friendly bunch—straight-edged, respectful, nice.

Still, I can’t help but wonder…are Christians spoon-feeding the world a sugar-coated message? Are they substituting idealistic sweets for moral fiber? Is there really only one way to feed the soul?

At the end of the day, I know I’ll probably never go back to Wooddale. I wonder if the people I met will ask Dave, “What happened to your friend?” I wonder if they’ll think of me as “broken” or “unmotivated.” In the end, I really don’t care. I know I can’t condone sexual discrimination, the suppression of reproductive freedoms or social injustice. For those of you who agree, I guess I’ll see you in hell…with a hot-cross bun.

Abe Lincoln, that wily ole Republican, once said, “If I do good, I feel good. If I do bad, I feel bad. That is my religion.”
Amen. ||