by Ken Walker

Those who wonder if the church is relevant in today's world haven't met Pastor Eric Bahme or visited his revolutionary congregation in Portland, Ore. What follows is the amazing story of how one man's dream and God's purposes came together in a way that has changed lives and impacted a community.

The saga of Eastside Foursquare Church is so big that relating it requires a book, which Senior Pastor Eric Bahme has actually written. Does the Church Own All This? was released in October by publisher Signature Editions.

"I'm blown away," Bahme says of the story that has unfolded in northeast Portland, Ore. "It's a major miracle. This is the largest 'Red Sea moment' I've been part of. It's a sovereign work of God."

That a church that once numbered fewer than 100 people purchased and renovated a run-down, crack house of a hotel and turned it into a showpiece for 33,000 travelers annually, and maintains a coffee shop that serves nearly 42,000 customers a year. Amazing enough. That it also incorporated a multiplicity of ministries, from a drug treatment center to a homeless shelter for families to missions stretching beyond U.S. borders, is a fulfillment of Acts 1:8.

Yet the crowning touch of this phenomenon is conversions--about 350 the past two years alone--topped off by changed lives. Rescued from destructive lifestyles, many have been transformed into productive, vibrant, happy citizens.

People such as Ivy Winslow, 33, who married last July, two years after she came to Eastside and swapped drug addiction, working as a stripper and domestic abuse for a new life in Christ.

"I had lost my kids for three months and saw Pastor Eric on Trinity Broadcasting Network (TBN), and started going to church there," recalls Winslow, now sober for nearly a year. "I was still addicted to pills, but the members were gentle, encouraging and firm, [telling me], 'You need to let go of that.' The people took time to talk to me. It felt like coming home every time I was there. God has given me a new start on life."

And folks such as Jeff Baker, 30. Although a 1998 graduate of the Teen Challenge drug rehab program, he later fell back into destructive patterns and wound up in prison. That marked the start of a long descent that led through addiction to crystal meth, identity theft and burglary.

Today, Baker works at Eastside's hotels while majoring in sociology at Portland State University and minoring in Judaic studies and counseling. He is planning to become a social worker, with an avocation in prison ministry.

Baker is especially fond of the church because members still treat him as a brother even though he switched to another congregation four years ago.

"A lot of [what made a difference was people] explaining that God didn't expect me to be perfect, as long as I kept on trying," Baker says of rededicating his life to Christ at Eastside. "That's why I work as hard as I do [at the hotel]. We know our source of employment."

Young people have come back from the brink of disaster, too. Ryan Smith turns 20 in mid-January, two months after he was scheduled to complete his stay in Freedom House. Smith was a prime candidate for the residential drug treatment center, which uses a wing of the building that houses the Quality Inn and Suites and Rodeway Inn that Eastside operates.

In high school, Smith got hooked on DMX--a substance found in cold medications that helped him escape from reality--so badly that one time he tried to burn his house down. Released from a hospital psych ward the day he was admitted to Freedom House, Smith decided to get high one last time, which initially led the director to reject his admission.

"I got hit with the reality of the situation, and I had two options: life or death," Smith recalls. "One of my plans was to jump off a bridge and kill myself. I said, 'God, You need to work a miracle. I can't do this.' He worked a miracle; He softened the hearts of the people, and they let me in a couple hours later."

Breaking Away From Tradition

At one time, Bahme pastored a Seventh-day Adventist church that got booted from the organization after he received the baptism in the Holy Spirit. Though it became non-denominational, he still nursed a sense of unease.

Part of this unease stemmed from a question God had posed three years into his 13-year ministry in suburban Seattle. One day, in the parking lot of computer giant Microsoft, Bahme felt the Lord ask him, "What would you do if I gave you Microsoft to pastor?"

In an instant, Bahme sensed the elimination of boundaries. The wealth of one American company could wipe out poverty in numerous nations, finance drug recovery programs and become a powerful force for good.

"Father, if You ever were to allow me to pastor Microsoft, I would do it well," he pledged.

That vow was never tested--in Seattle. But when Bahme, now 45, tired of traditional church life, he followed a suggestion from former Foursquare General Supervisor Jared Roth that he plant a church in Portland.

The core group came from the sponsoring body, suburban Canby New Life Foursquare, some former Adventists and folks Bahme met in coffee shops. The 20 or so who gathered in a school building initially met on Saturday mornings.

Soon, it became obvious Bahme needed another source of income. A friend offered him a job in his hotel management firm, which would open doors down the road.

Before he dreamed of acquiring a hotel, the pastor read a book on the Celtic way of evangelism, which revolved around relationships and hospitality.

"It dawned on me that not only would the hotels generate lots of income, this is probably the best evangelism model that existed on the face of the planet," Bahme told Advance. "The first hotels were monasteries. I thought if we could grab a hold of that and get the church to see, we had something that could bring revival."

When word filtered through Bahme's business contacts that an old hotel was available, the seller didn't reveal some key truths that came with the $3.8 million asking price--such as the fact it was a key distribution center for methamphetamine, or that they had taken to renting rooms by the hour, a clue to common prostitution and drug use.

Nor did Bahme's church have much money. Insisting its mission of reaching people for Christ and making disciples had to come first, the pastor took the proposal before the congregation. That Saturday, the 60 then attending donated $7,000 to a special offering.

Next the pastor approached Foursquare and secured a loan. Then a bank, to come up with another $4.4 million.

Bahme knew they needed additional money for renovations, but never dreamed the plumbing, kitchen and electrical wiring were all shot. The year after the June 2004 purchase, the money pit had gobbled up $1.5 million more than their resources.

"In December 2005 I walked through the building and thought, I don't know how we're going to do this," he remembers. "For the next six weeks [sick with stress], I'd ... throw up, and pray. Finally, my doctor said, 'You have one of the worst cases of anxiety I've seen.'"

Foursquare came to the rescue with a refinancing package that paid off the bank note, increased the financing and allowed the church to forego payments for a while. Relieved of that burden, the hotels prospered. This year's receipts are estimated to reach $1.8 million, double the revenues when Eastside took over. The coffee shop, appropriately named Sacred Grounds, hasn't been generating any surpluses yet but is headed in a profitable direction.

In addition, Bahme's hotel management career has become so profitable, he has set a goal of discontinuing his church salary in the future.

Changing Lives

One of Eastside's many ministries is Freedom House, a one-year drug treatment program that includes Bible study, chapel services, Scripture memorization, accountability partners and other measures to set men free.

Director Jim Cottrell has watched tough cases blossom into new lives, such as Bill, whose mother in Korea had dumped him in the garbage after he was born. He now works in Portland after holding down a maintenance position at the hotel. Another graduate is Mike, a young man everyone thought was headed for prison but today is attending Bible college in Florida.

So far, seven men have completed the program--all are still clean. Bill and another man are in Bible college, and the rest are gainfully employed. Clients have ranged from their late teens to early 50s, with a median age of 33.

"You really get hardcore guys," says Cottrell, formerly the director of Teen Challenge in the area. "When guys are first toying with recovery, they want the easy way out, so there's the 28-day programs, which are insurance driven. After that they try the 90-day or the outpatient [centers]. To make the one-year commitment, you've got to be a dope fiend."

What causes them to give it up? Cottrell attributes it to an intimate relationship with Christ. Unlike traditional treatment, he says Freedom House isn't trying to evaluate clients or pump their heads full of knowledge. And, most clients are tired of such approaches, because they never made a difference.

There are failures; as he saw with Teen Challenge, 4 of 10 will drop out in the early phases, either because it is "too spiritual" or too intense. For those who stay, the combination of learning a work ethic, how to make the right choices and instilling Scripture in their spirits pays dividends.

"Many of the guys don't think they can do that, because they feel like they've burned their brains out or have gone too far," Cottrell says. "[They] begin to believe they have a future and a hope ... they start looking at a future that includes service and may include full-time ministry."

Several miles east sits My Father's House, another outreach backed by a network of 140 churches and 300 volunteers. It is one of only two shelters in Multnomah County devoted to helping homeless families. Although its primary sponsor originally was suburban East Hill Foursquare Church, Eastside is now a major supporter. Last summer, the shelter moved into a new, 27,000-square-foot facility that houses 30 families, the largest facility of its kind without government support in the U.S.

Seventy-five percent of the residents seek help because of economic disaster, says Cathe Wiese, director since My Father's House opened in 2001.

"If you have drug or alcohol issues, there are all kinds of shelters that will help you, but if you're down and out, not many people are willing to help," Wiese explains. "We see a lot less drug abuse than people who have spiraled down. They lose their job, and then their house, and it quickly spirals out of control. Then they become depressed, [saying], 'I'm not good enough. I'm not going to make it.' You have to build them up before they can go on a job interview."

Spiritual renewal is an important aspect of the program. In 2006, two-thirds of the 24 families housed during the year came to Christ.

Among recent success stories is Rich, a single father of one son, who grew up in church but walked away from God. Unemployed and struggling with alcohol after losing his job, he was walking in the rain when Wiese saw him and offered him a ride to church. That day he and his son both accepted Christ.

"They've moved out on their own, and Richard has a good job," Cathy says. "It was exciting for me to see. We're helping families and transforming lives. They are different when they leave here. You walk in the place, and you can feel the Lord."

Impacting Community

David Walmer, a teaching pastor who devotes most of his time to hotel management and acting as a liaison with area business owners, says community impact is hard to measure but can be seen by lower crime statistics.

Since 2004 in the surrounding Parkrose neighborhood, rapes, robberies, aggravated assaults and non-residential burglaries have all dropped, according to the Portland Police Bureau.

Last May, the Parkrose Business Association invited Walmer to speak to the group. Rather than discuss hotel operations, the leader told him to talk about what the church was doing.

"They're very aware of what's going on here and applaud it," Walmer told Advance.

Walmer officially bears the title of community pastor, a role that is explained by an experience he had soon after Eastside purchased the property. One night, he met a toothless meth addict named Julie as she foraged in a dumpster for food. She returned periodically and told acquaintances Walmer was her pastor even though she didn't attend services.

"It transformed me," he affirms. "I was from a pretty conservative background and religion. Julie was instrumental in breaking down walls and helping me love people who weren't like me."

Love is what drives Bahme. The first time he sat through the closing of a hotel sale that netted him a handsome profit, the pastor turned to someone and shrugged, "Is that all there is?" Instead of money, his biggest thrill is when someone raises a hand to indicate a desire to follow Christ, followed by a dip in the hotel swimming pool that serves as the baptismal font.

"We don't distinguish between the hotel and the church," Bahme says. "Wherever we go, there goes the church. You can't separate what Jesus is doing on Sunday from Monday through Saturday."

Ministering in an inner-city-style environment forced him to don a new set of glasses so he could clearly see the burdens weighing people down. He admits that in the past when he saw a guy holding a sign on a street corner, a prostitute plying her trade or an inebriated soul walk by, he was quick to blame those people for their plight.

"My whole stereotype of people really had to change when I got here," he explains. "Homelessness was a far greater issue than not having a roof over your head. It was a whole mentality."

One thing that helped modify his viewpoint was discovering some of the horrific circumstances street people had lived through. Such as the woman who had been gang raped repeatedly from the ages of 7 to 18. Others had equally gut-wrenching tales of despair.

Once he sat down and listened to their stories and connected with them personally, Bahme's outlook changed.

"That's when God caused me to fall in love with these people," he says. "I couldn't do anything else right now. This was a work God had to do inside of me."

Today at its Saturday evening and three Sunday morning services, gang members, current and former prostitutes, and wealthy businesspersons crowd into Eastside, whose meeting space only holds 250 at a time.

It still surprises Bahme to see a stockbroker sitting next to a girl who has lived on the streets for years, talking and praying together.

"It truly is a picture of the church," the pastor reflects. "There's such a high level of respect for the power and move of the Holy Spirit and what God's doing in the service. It doesn't matter who you are."

A freelance writer from Huntington, W.Va., Ken Walker was granted an award by the Evangelical Press Association earlier this year for his recent Advance cover story on human trafficking. For more about Eastside Foursquare Church's ministry, as well as information on Eric Bahme's book, visit www.eastsidechurch.net and www.EricBahme.com

©2008 Advance Magazine