Parking lot ministries tend to flock like a shepherd

On a gray Sunday morning, a torrent of SUVs, sedans and minivans is arriving at Spring Branch Community Church, a beat-the-clock motorcade anxious to make the 11:15 service.

High above, Robert Thoma watches the spectacle from the church roof. His eyes flick commandingly over the 600-space lot.

"Max flow is starting," he says, and brings a walkie-talkie to his lips.

"Aisle Five has four spaces," he instructs. Below, one of a cadre in neon-green vests responds, diverting traffic toward four empty slots.

A cool wind tugs at Thoma's clothes and his own vest. "SBCC," it says on the back. "PARKING."

The men in green are Spring Branch's Parking Ministry, volunteers who ensure that Sunday morning traffic doesn't create hell at the busy megachurch.

"It's all for the greater good, to help people get to church in a safe, efficient manner," said Thoma, who heads the group.

Many churches do not have parking ministries. Among the local exceptions is Calvary Revival Church, a Norfolk megachurch where the parking team is known as Gideon's Army.

At Spring Branch, the team's task is daunting. Sunday attendance regularly exceeds 1,500, with a high volume of visitors unfamiliar with the church campus.

At midmorning, a riptide of early-bird worshippers surges out just when the late-service crowd is flowing in. There's the occasional unrepentent king-of-the-road driver and the predictably just-in-time crowd.

"We're parking literally half to three-quarters of the congregation in the last five minutes," Thoma said.

Parking cars may seem lowly, muck-out-the-stable work compared to the sanctified glory of church posts like deacon or minister, but to the Rev. Michael Simone, Spring Branch's senior pastor, the parking team personifies ministry.

"Somebody greets you with a smile, waves you to the right places, says good morning - it's the first touch of the light of the church for most visitors," he said.

Parking volunteers agreed. "Ministry - isn't it supposed to be humble?" said Jerry Galanides, a team member and food service sales manager. "You humble yourself to the calling of the lord, serving the church."

The ministry also is an appealing entry point for men new to church volunteerism. (No women have joined, though the 20-member team is open to both genders).

There's the guy-gear of day-glo traffic cones and long-snouted "wand" flashlights, the chance to be traffic cop and the camaraderie of engineering order from chaos.

"Men and being part of a system - I don't know if it's machismo, but to see things work as a system is fulfilling in a manly way," Thoma said.

Thoma, a chiropractor, revolutionized the parking ministry about two years ago by introducing its signature concept: stadium-style parking.

As each car arrives, a lot attendant directs it to park next to the one that preceded it. Ultimately, row upon row of parked vehicles are all facing the same way, positioned for quick exiting.

Team members call it beautiful.

"Guys get into having systems work," Thoma said. "When we're done and see the cars all pointing in the same direction and the lot is full, it's glorious. Truly."

Dr. David Werwath, a founding member of Spring Branch, said some congregants initially resisted the new system, but most have been won over since the maximum wait to leave the lot has shrunk by half, to 15 minutes.

"Everybody appreciates the orderliness of it," he said.

On this morning, team member Mike Litaker, a construction manager, laid traffic cones along the church's two-lane driveway off North Great Neck Road shortly after 8 a.m.

By 8:49, the small front lot was filled. Cars streamed into the rear jumbo lot to be waved down lanes by green-vested Mike Hauser, a business executive, and Hal Breedlove, an optometrist.

Rows filled quickly as the 9 a.m. worship service loomed. By 9:10, the motor pool was uniformly nose-to-tail; traffic ebbed. The parking team headed indoors for the service or a bite at the church's coffee table.

At 10:05, first service over, the church's doors swung open, and the team redeployed.

"Yeah, we're going to two lanes right now," radioed John Greene, a human resources professional, as both lanes of the driveway opened to departing motorists. On the main road, a sheriff's deputy hired by the church controlled traffic.

In minutes, the driveway resumed two-way flows, in time for a fresh crowd arriving for Spring Branch's between-service classes.

Afterward, Thoma shared parking stories. Take the woman who left her car in the driveway, blocking an entire lane, while she was at worship.

"She absolutely defended herself - she said she was 'ADD' and couldn't handle the parking lot," he said, referring to attention deficit disorder.

By 11 a.m., Thoma was headed for the roof as the second-service audience arrived and the Sunday school released.

"Starting to come in pretty heavy," his walkie-talkie squawked. Max-flow time.

Thoma spied empty slots, radioing the location to teammates whose pinwheeling arms steered newcomers.

"Eye in the sky," he laughed to a friend passing three stories below.

Thoma was back on the ground an hour later for the team's last sally as the second service let out. The driveway again became a double-barreled river of traffic, waved on by Breedlove. Cars roared past at better than fender-bender speed.

"Smooth as silk!" Breedlove exulted.

In 15 minutes, the charge was over, the driveway an empty stretch of asphalt. It was a typical Sunday, a good day, for Thoma and the parking ministry.

"It's the day the lord made," he said, "and we're glad to see them coming and going off the lot."

Steven G. Vegh, (757) 446-2417, steven.vegh@pilotonline.com