A Georgia church tries drive-in worship

The laid-back atmosphere works for Wayne Shumake and his wife, Nelda. They attend a drive-in church every year while vacationing in Daytona, Fla., and are thrilled there’s one close to home. This is their first time at New Hope, and they say they’ll be back. “When we’re at the beach, we go in shorts,” says Mr. Shumake, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and sandals. “But I grew up in the country. I’m old school. You wore your Sunday best to show respect to the Lord.”

More than just casual clothing lies behind the appeal of drive-in churches, though. The Rev. Verlyn Verbrugge, pastor of Woodland Drive-In Church in Grand Rapids, Mich., says they are also convenient for people who don’t like to socialize or who struggle with health issues.
Unlike New Hope, Mr. Verbrugge’s church holds no indoor services. Founded in 1970, it has grown from 35 cars to 80 and is self-supporting. Visitors are given envelopes to make prayer requests, which often include a contribution. Still, he insists on keeping some traditions – communion is held in the fellowship hall, and people are no longer allowed to honk horns or flash headlights in lieu of amens. He admits there are disadvantages.

“There’s no sense of community among the members,” he says. “No singing, no midweek activities. But the type of people who come to drive-in church aren’t looking for that. Our main purpose is as a transition church. If we can bring a person to a relationship with Christ and they move on, we’ve fulfilled our purpose.”

Yet the idea still seems almost quaint. Why would anyone drive across town to sit in a parking lot when they can be at home and listen to the sermon on the radio or perhaps watch it online?
For one thing, they may not be able to hear it: The radio signal for most of these churches isn’t as strong as Solomon. The broadcast range for New Hope, which is surrounded by car dealerships and storage buildings, is a scant three miles – and even then the sermon might be interrupted by local sportscasts.

For another, some people see sitting in the church parking lot as a tentative step toward traditional worship, giving them a sense of commitment while still experiencing church on their own terms. “It gets people to the building, even if it doesn’t get them inside the door,” says Tona Hangen, a religious-broadcasting expert at Worcester State College in Massachusetts. “It’s easy to tune into something else, but if you’re in the parking lot, you’re committed to listening.”

•••

The second service is still 20 minutes away, but Markle has abandoned his breakfast and is greeting the drive-in worshipers and welcoming his regular congregation as they pour inside, shaking umbrellas and shedding raincoats.

Some people, like Mr. Hopkins – a member for 15 years and a singer in the choir – enjoy the drive-in services so much they stay for the traditional service as well. Hopkins says he, and others, were skeptical of the idea but were moved by Markle’s enthusiasm. Most have warmed to the idea, but it’s hard to tell if the new format will be successful. Markle says he’ll continue until cold weather sets in, then reevaluate.

Outside, the drive-in crowd is heading back into the Sturm und Drang of city traffic and a fast-food world. Inside, worshipers find their seats and talk falls to a hush.
Markle looks out over the sea of suits and ties, starched dresses and patent leather shoes, opens his maroon Bible, and begins. As long as there are people, there will be a church. And as long as there’s a church, he’ll be there every Sunday, indoors or outdoors, rain or shine.

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