VIRGINIA BEACH
Corporate headquarters? Convention center? With its sweeping lines and glass-and-metal facade, the modernist building at 1000 N. Great Neck Road invites guesses about what it is.
But the packed parking lot on Sunday mornings gives a strong hint.
The 80,000-square-foot behemoth is Wave Church's new worship center, an $18 million complex with a 2,500-seat, high-tech auditorium and a bookstore, cafe and coffee bar.
What it intentionally doesn't have, inside or out, are any of the symbols - steeple, bell tower, stained glass, even a cross - that traditionally say "church" to the public.
"I just don't think that's what people are looking for in the 21st century," said the Rev. Steve Kelly, senior pastor of the evangelical church since 1999. "I was looking for something more corporate, something more contemporary."
Wave's sleek exterior complements rocking worship music, laid-back services and programs, including a weekday child learning center, that put the church in sync with what modern Americans want, Kelly said.
"I actually think there's a new paradigm, a new model for church - d'ya know what I mean?" he said in a Crocodile Dundee accent absorbed during 18 years of living Down Under. "Just being relevant to the culture and the community you're trying to reach."
Kelly, who calls the new church a convention center, said the exterior design also feeds "architectural evangelism," tempting curious passers-by into exploring what goes on inside the nontraditional-looking church.
"It can prophesy to the community that the church is alive," Kelly said.
Wave's appearance is a prime example of the "fresh" look more and more churches are seeking, architect Michael Barnes said. His Virginia Beach firm has designed scores of churches, though it didn't do the Wave project.
Part of the allure is the curb appeal of modern designs.
"It's no longer that red brick box with columns in front where you have no idea what's going on inside," Barnes said. "If you go by Wave during the day, it's active, it's moving, you see people inside, it's attractive and it's transparent."
Many churches also are banishing symbols such as crosses or bell towers that might repel people who've had bad experiences with institutional Christianity.
Additionally, churches want space that is multipurpose or encourages people to interact.
Old-style sanctuaries with rigid pews now are upstaged by performance spaces with theater seating. Lobbies, formerly cold, dead space, are often now transformed into indoor plazas that invite people to chat and hang out.
"You don't build relationships in the worship service; you build them in gathering places," Barnes said. "The church culture is changing."
Wave is on the crest of that, well, wave. Its foyer is wide, spacious, sunlit, with a scattering of modern-style hassocks and upholstered benches. A coffee bar dispenses express java; three iMac computers let people sign up for activities via Wave's Web site.
Above on a balcony, a Starbucks-grade cafe supplies the crowd at tables and nearby club chairs grouped around plasma screens. A small bookstore sells recordings of Kelly's messages and works by evangelical preachers including Joyce Meyer and Joel Osteen.
Wave, which also has branches in Norfolk, Richmond and eastern Virginia Beach, had 200 to 300 members and was called Church of the Redeemer when Kelly came nine years ago. It occupied a little church building with a classic steeple on the site.
Now about 6,000 people attend services between Wednesday night and Sunday evening at the Great Neck site. Like Kelly, many call the building a convention center rather than a church.
Behind the growth is Kelly's avoidance of "growth inhibitors." One was the old church's small sanctuary, which forced Wave to hold multiple services on Sundays.
Under Kelly, Wave promoted rock-propelled Christian music in worship services geared toward contemporary ears. It also offered community services including substance-abuse recovery, tutoring, single-mother support groups and the child learning center.
But the biggest inhibitor on Kelly's list was the "cringe factor" he saw in too many churches.
Condescending preaching, "flaky," "charismagic" worship, brow-beating sermons, pastors atop pedestals - everything that makes people cringe he wanted exiled from Wave.
"Our biggest challenge is helping break down those barriers and perceptions of what church is like."
Wave's recipe works for people including Dennis Smith, a 56-year-old computer programmer.
In the sanctuary, a rock band backed by a giant media screen pounded out Christian tunes, its lead singer in a psychedelic-colored mini-skirt, black tights and nearly knee-high black boots with spike heels. Kelly bounced on- and off-stage like a game-show host, in a pin-striped suit and open-collar shirt.
It was all just fine with Smith, who said he grew up in a legalistic, ultra-conservative Baptist church.
"It's absolutely OK with me when I see the number of young people that we're seeing here," he said. "It's reaching the next generation, but the Word isn't watered down," he said, referring to the Christian gospel.
Upstairs at the cafe, 19-year-old barista Ajalon Moreland said she'd attended a conventional-looking Methodist church until joining Wave with her family a year ago.
"When someone says it doesn't look like a church, that's true," she said, but "in the long run, a church is a place of worship, a house of God, and for me, that's what's going on here."
Steven G. Vegh, (757) 446-2417, steven.vegh@pilotonline.com








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