It’s a Sunday night on W. 34th St. Young women wearing denim cutoffs and straw fedoras join a line with guys in tank tops and Converse. There is idle chatter about movies and other pop culture topics. There’s also word of an after-party. Meanwhile, other fashionable youngsters cut the line — guests of the rock star inside.
Another line outside a club? No, a church.
Hillsong NYC is attracting more than 6,000 young, attractive urbanites every Sunday with a simple approach to religion: A hot pastor covered in tattoos gets onstage to a rock introduction to preach an anti-Kennedy gospel: Ask not what you can do for God — ask what God can do for you.
“We don’t use the word ‘religion,’ because it’s hard to get people excited about religion,” says Carl Lentz, 35, the pastor of this megachurch for millennials. “Religion is dead. I don’t know anything about religion, I couldn’t help you. Religion has no power. But a relationship with God is a superpower.”
Hillsong was founded by Brian and Bobbie Houston in Australia in 1983 as an evangelical chuch to spread a Jesus-died-for-our-sins message. The church also includes Pentecostal baptism — which explains why Justin Bieber reportedly journeyed around Manhattan with Lentz this year to find the perfect hotel pool for the spiritual shvitz.
“In church, people treat you like you have to change or else,” says Lentz. “Our approach is, ‘We love you, nothing else.’ ”
Perhaps, but the church’s beliefs are old sacramental wine in a hip new bottle. Members are taught creationism — and learn about the church’s opposition to stem cell research and abortion. Hillsong considers the Bible to be historically accurate.
Following Hillsong churches in Amsterdam, Paris, Barcelona and Moscow, the Houstons’ two Manhattan locations do away with stained glass and steeples. Instead, thousands of twentysomethings find themselves crowded into a club-like atmosphere with strobe lights, giant-screen TVs, a DJ booth manned by a trio in flannel shirts and, of course, that guy quoting from the Bible with a slick haircut, YSL boots, a black leather jacket and, yes, a body covered in ink featuring the New York skyline, his children’s names and his favorite, his old Virginia Beach area code.
“A pastor who likes chess and orchestra, that’s great,” says Lentz, whose church has attracted the likes of Bieber, Vanessa Hudgens and NBA player Kevin Durant. “But we’re from this generation.”
Kathie Lee Gifford’s actress daughter is a fan.
“Young people are far more open and excited to share fellowship with one another when they don’t feel as if there is a Bible being smacked upon their heads,” says Cassidy Gifford. “Hillsong fosters a completely opposite environment, one of love, openness that is borderline infectious.”
The church’s use of music definitely causes a spiritual epidemic.
As you enter the Manhattan Center in Midtown for a Hillsong service on Sunday, a group of volunteers in ripped leather pants is setting up their guitars and microphones for the opening music.
But music is not just a mere choir song at a Hillsong service. It’s central to the show and to the church’s larger global reach.
Hillsong’s record label, Hillsong Music Australia, has released more than 40 albums of Christian rock in the last two decades, regularly reaching gold and platinum status in Australia. In total, the church has sold more than 12 million records worldwide — a lot more than most recording artists. The Hillsong Worship channel on YouTube has about 145,000 subscribers, and has been viewed more than 12 million times.
Hillsong’s numbers prove that Jesus Christ can still get clicks in the young demo. Give the people what they want — in this case, young people want a club scene with a foundation in spirituality instead of superficiality — and they will beat a path to your door.
“The church doesn’t worry about how you look or dress,” says Hillsong member Amy Diaz, 26, from Bushwick. “I also like that the crowd is young, in their 20s and 30s. I just love that they never make you feel alone.”
Another Hillsong fan praises the church’s inclusiveness.
“A lot of international students spend their Sundays there to catch a break from fiery New York,” says Ziaphora Dakile, 20, a student at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts. “It’s not only diverse in terms of what people look like, it’s diverse in that people from all walks of life unite at that church.”
Lentz says that’s the goal: “What you see around you can be a little unorthodox. You don’t have to believe to belong here. We just talk about regular life. Regular marriage, what it means to be a Christian in New York.”
Lentz does talk about converting nonbelievers into Hillsong members, and makes a point of asking first-timers in the audience to raise their hands. But even this nod to evangelicalism is about depth, not deities.
“New York City is hollow, an absolutely hollow place,” Lentz says. “So what we have is deep, and it matters.”