Metro Pulse/Music/"Biker's Church"

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The "Biker Church's" weekly mosh for Jesus

by John Sewell

Light grows dim as a weekend ritual begins. A group of teenagers have congregated in a parking lot near downtown. Adolescent rites are taking place as per usual: smoking cigarettes, flirting, skateboarding and exchanging the latest gossip. Combat boots, skater clothes, piercings, hair dye and asymmetrical haircuts are de rigeur for the evening. It's a Friday night in Maryville, and the kids are ready to rock.

But what appears to be the standardized proceedings for an all-ages show in Anytown, USA is something just a little bit different. Before the evening's fare of angry thrash metal/rapcore will commence, the kids are corralled into a makeshift sanctuary for a brief devotional. At the Lord's Chapel, hosting metal shows is an entre into teen culture from which a wellspring of converts is tapped.

Looking something like a member of an underworld subculture, youth pastor Mark McCullum stands before the congregation clad in jeans, T-shirt and a sleeveless leather jacket with biker colors emblazoned on the back. Stitched in bold letters is the emblem of the Lord's Disciples: "The contract still stands. Salvation signed in blood."

A former drug dealer and all-around badass, McCullum tells a few war stories of his days before finding salvation. Then he speaks of his dramatic conversion and how he was the first among a group of bikers to heed an altar call. "That was the only time I was ever first to do anything that didn't have something to do with beer or drugs," enthuses McCullum.

Before the kids can move into the adjoining room and be entertained by a barrage of extremely heavy Christian metal, there is prayer and a few words of admonishment from McCullum. "When the bands kick, we want you to have a ball," he says. "But don't get hurt and leave any sharp jewelry—any of these wristbands—leave them in your car. Be careful what you bring into the pit and mosh with love. We don't want to see any blood except for the blood of Jesus."

An unlikely approach to youth ministry perhaps, but the Lord's Chapel (lovingly called "The Biker Church" by many of its members), a non-denominational church, has had a lot of success with its Friday night shows. With an average draw of around 150 teenagers each week, the church has provided a safe haven for headbangers, forging friendships and saving souls in the process.

Christian rock is nothing new, but the bands that play at the Lord's Chapel are a lot more, well, hard-core than the usual homogenized praise music groups. At the Lord's Chapel, moshing and slam dancing are permitted—even encouraged, as long as the aggression is channeled into promoting unity among the participants.

Around a year ago, 28-year-old Freddie Dunlap started booking hard music acts at Lord's Chapel when the church's teen outreach fell into the rut of booking the same bands continuously. "There was a three-week span where there weren't any bands coming," says Dunlap. "I started feeling pulled (by) God to do something to help with that. So I started booking shows, and from there I got the idea to start Floodlight Promotions."

With Dunlap firmly in place booking bands, the Lord's Chapel saw a steady increase in attendance for the Friday night events. And a scene of new metal bands from area high schools came together, many of them playing their first real shows at the church.

At present, Floodlight has a small cadre of bands in its stable including Omega Rage, Dwell, Temporary Residence and Linger (a Nashville-based band) and is negotiating with local heavy-hitters Coexist. With Floodlight, Dunlap brings bands from all over the country to the Lord's Chapel and sends his bands on tours in the Southeast.

Dunlap says that though he has had some success with booking heavy Christian acts in other churches, the Lord's Chapel's anything-goes attitude makes it the best venue for his type of music. "We are the only church in the area that does allow moshing," says Dunlap. "If the kids get too violent, we just lay our hand on their shoulder and pull them to the side. And we tell them, hey, this is God's house and we need to keep this at a respectable level. We don't want anybody hurt. And we don't have to ask them more than once and we've never, ever asked any kids to leave. We're really proud of that."

The music might be the initial draw to the Lord's Chapel, but Dunlap says that the bands he books are sincere in their faith and that the message—not the bands—is what's most important. "I don't think we've ever had a band yet that wasn't legitimately Christian," says Dunlap. "Now some of the bands don't minister from the stage. But whenever they get offstage, they'll talk to the kids one-on-one. It's pretty awesome seeing how these bands can relate to the kids. The love that they show to the kids is just an example of Jesus Christ in them."