Hope Fellowship Friendly Biker Church

The air was crisp and cold, 40 degrees Fahrenheit, and the sky was overcast in a layer of light grey cloud. The ride from Grapevine to Irving was chilly, but not painfully cold thanks to a warm jacket and heavy winter gloves. Traffic was lite and I was running late, so the ride might have been a bit warmer if I hadn't been trying to run a hole in the wind.

It's doubtful many people who saw the big Triumph cruising along highway 183 would guess that the rider, clad in solid black with feet on highway pegs, was en route to church, but tucked into one of the saddlebags was a MacArthur study bible, reading glasses, and a notepad.

From other directions even more unlikely churchgoers converged on downtown Irving, Texas, these riding a mixture of old and new Harley Davidsons, from Sportsters to VRods.

I arrived and dropped my kickstand next to a VRod. It's owner had just dismounted and immediately struck up a conversation with me.

"Hey, nice bike. That thing might even keep up with mine," he said, gesturing at the Rocket III.

"Yeah," I chuckled back, "She'll pass just about anything...except a gas station."

We were late. Hope Fellowship's web site said the early service starts at 0845 hours on Sunday morning. I glanced at my watch and realized it was 0855. I followed my new acquaintance into the building.

Entry through the front doors of the PigeonHole points you straight at a bar where soft drinks, coffee, and donuts (solid Texas protestant fare) are served. The aroma of fresh brewed coffee was tempting, but I could see through an open door that folks were seated and someone was making announcements inside the next room. I skipped the coffee and made my way into a moderate seating area filled with square cafe tables and steel framed chairs, a few with torn upholstery, but more comfortable than the average wooden church pew.

I located an empty table near the center of the room, shed my jacket, and plopped down; bible, reading glasses, pen and notebook arranged in front of me.

The speaker was a big guy with a shaved head and unshaven face. He was making announcements about an upcoming prison visit. "Funny thing," he said, "I spent a lot of years fighting to stay out of prison, now I'm fighting to get in."

The crowd guffawed and chuckled, then Gary went on with his announcements. He is the Hope Fellowship prison ministry pastor. Gary concluded a short question and answer session with a prayer, and turned the mic over to the worship leader. As lyrics appeared on the screen at the front of the room, the worship team kicked off a loud and long series of contemporary praise songs. The band, featuring acoustic and electric guitars, a keyboard, and the inevitable drummer, played well, and I found myself able to sing robustly, the volume of the instruments and amplified voices of those on the stage sufficient to drown out the discord of my tone-deaf contribution.

As the worship continued, I soaked up the details of those around me. Tattoos were visible, but not abundant. Most of the congregation wore jeans, t-shirts, and many wore leather or denim vests and jackets. Some wore "do-rags" and there were a number of pony tails...including the pastor's. I felt slightly overdressed in my black jeans and polo shirt.

Everyone had risen to their feet as the first musical notes were struck, and that is how we stayed until the songs came to an end. Some raised their hands as they sang, a couple of the ladies swayed back and forth and clapped like they were at a rock concert. Most, like me, just stood and sang and just let the music and words wash over them.

It was a far cry from what you'd see at the average Baptist church, but nowhere near the spastic dancing and convulsions you might experience in a pentecostal service.

As the music wound down the pastor began his announcements. Today, he informed us, was "Scout Sunday". That explained the large number of adults and kids in the crowd wearing scout uniforms. A large group of children and teenagers filed to the front and the congregation clapped and cheered for them.

After that, the pastor launched into a solid, biblically sound sermon on John 16:32. It turns out the man has been preaching from a series he started with chapter 14 of the book of John in August. To me, that's a great sign. If you can preach that many sermons on two chapters you're probably doing one of two things: studying hard and getting every bit of nutrition you can from God's word, or just making stuff up. This guy wasn't making stuff up.

Near the end of the sermon a man in the congregation raised his hand. When the pastor acknowledged him, the man punctuated a scripture that had just been read (1 John 5:3) with a short comment about how he had found living as a Christian to be less of a burden than his old life, in which he had constant trouble. Amongst the affirmative "Amen's" from the rest of the group the pastor closed out the sermon with a poignant and thought provoking video projected on the screen ("Inconvenient Jesus") followed by an alter call.

At the very end, he told the crowd that they do not pass an offering plate at Hope Fellowship. Instead, there is a donation box at the front. "Give if you feel compelled by God, but by no means give if you do not feel compelled by God. Do it only because God tells you to, not me." said the pastor. That was the full extent of the church's request for financial support.

The closing prayer was said, and we all filed out. I dropped a few bucks in the plastic coffee can on my way out, and decided I would definitely be back next Sunday.

Exiting the building was a strategic event, as members arriving for the second service were entering at the same time and filling up the front of the building as they conversed over coffee, donuts, and soft drinks. I squeezed past and made my way into the parking lot, intent on taking a few photos to post with this article.

Reaching my bike, I was distracted from retrieving my camera by one of those Harley Davidson riders and his wife, who struck up a friendly conversation with me about my motorcycle. I found myself telling them how I had come across Hope Fellowship's web site while researching for one of my motorcycle articles. I also ended up telling them about my recent crash and being Care-Flighted to a trauma center. There was no pity or comment about how I was crazy to be back on a bike after all that. There was congratulations on my survival and I think I even detected a tiny bit of envy over getting a helicopter ride.

I concluded my conversation and suited up, then mounted my ride and headed back to Grapevine. Halfway home I realized I'd gotten so caught up in fellowship I'd forgotten to take any pictures other than one covertly snapped image with my Droid during the worship service.

Friendly folks. Everyone I made eye contact with smiled, and I wasn't "swarmed" with designated greeters. There was no awkwardness, and no one asked any prying questions of the stranger who had turned up in their midst today.

So far, it seems more like a church full of sincere Christians, many of whom happen to be bikers, than a church full of bikers.

I like that. And I like the fact that the name of Jesus Christ was mentioned more than the name of the pastor. As a matter of fact, I didn't hear the name "Dennis King" mentioned the whole time I was there. I think that says a lot for the humility and true motives of the man who shepherds this modest flock.