Megachurches Court Cool to Attract Teens

Five suburban kids -- three boys, two girls -- sit at a circular table in a cafe eating gooey chocolate chip cookies and responding frequently to one another with the all-encompassing "totally." All of the signs of adolescence are there -- the pimples, the flirty giggles, and yes, the angst. One of the girls leaps up from the table and rushes off, shouting over her shoulder, "I just need some time to digest!" The remaining girl shrugs both her eyebrows and shoulders in the guys' direction coquettishly, then runs after her friend. The guys immediately bow their heads and begin praying like crazy.

Despite the cushy chairs and mainstream decor, this is not Starbucks. This is New Life Church -- some say the most politically influential site of evangelism in the nation. Kids come to this megachurch on the outskirts of northern Colorado Springs not only to be saved but also to sip mocha lattes. They come, sometimes in the thousands, to this megamall of worship to praise Jesus, not through quiet, mannered prayer, but through the gut-vibrating baseline of the three electric guitars that begin services. In the words of the lead singer, who sports flip flops with his white button-down shirt and gelled, hipster hair, the kids come because: "God, you are so awesome!"

God's "awesomeness" aside, I came here to understand what it is that churches like New Life are doing so successfully to appeal to teenagers. Generation Y (of which I am a part) is notorious for its dependence on nonhierarchical, virtual communities: music downloading sites, YouTube, Wikipedia and the big momma, MySpace. When it comes to the real world, we are largely apolitical, unorganized and skeptical of authority -- as evidenced from books like Robert Putnam's 2000 bestseller Bowling Alone and Jean Twenge's more recent Generation Me.

In dramatic contrast, the National Association of Evangelicals, whose 45,000 churches and 30 million believers make up the nation's most powerful religious lobbying group, continues to successfully recruit teenagers into its fold.

In this climate of isolation and cynicism, how have evangelical megachurches like New Life gained such a strong youth following? And more importantly, what can progressives -- feminists, democrats, civil rights defenders -- learn from their methodology? "The left" is looking a little winded, a little wrinkled and a lot in trouble if it doesn't figure out how to appeal to a youth accustomed to MTV, MP3s and incentives. After spending one long Sunday evening at the New Life Church, I had a better sense of how the evangelical right pulls it off.

The Christian rock band played about five songs, showered in red, white and pink state-of-the-art lighting and periodic rolling clouds from the fog machine. Teenagers knelt down, stood in the aisles with their hands raised and rocked out at the foot of the stage, singing along; the lyrics of each song were projected on three giant television screens. One young woman spontaneously choreographed some kind of contemporary praise dance off in a corner, mixing Twyla Tharp modern with the Harlem shake as the spirit moved her. The lights were very dim, as if to visually indicate to every insecure 14-year-old around that, for once, no one was watching or judging.

It makes perfect sense -- teenagers are naturally emotional, bent on constructing their own unique individuality and deathly afraid of being judged for both. The angsty lyrics and dramatic delivery mirrors their internal world, but the dark, to-each-their-own vibe is in direct contrast to the cruel, external world.

Eventually the music faded into a soundtrack as a young pastor took the stage and translated the idea of God's glory for his "American Idol" audience: "We ask that you would make God famous in our city." Worship Pastor Ross Parsley, in his boot-cut jeans, short strawberry blond hair with pronounced sideburns, delivered his sermon from a Smartphone, throwing in frequent references to Hollywood movies. In fact, over the course of his 30-minute sermon he compared God's glory to the red pill in "The Matrix," the ring in the "Lord of the Rings," and, yes, the lion in "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe." God's wrath, he explains, is like the melting face in Indiana Jones.