Churchgoers turn the other cheek in the boxing ring

This article was published on the USA Today website on February 2, 2009. It shows once again how far away we are from the Hebraic model of the early church that was based on personal discipleship. If gimmicks are necessary, you may rest assured that true followers of Jesus Christ are not being made.

By Steve Young, Argus Leader
SIOUX FALLS, S.D. — Jerry James took a right to the chops for Jesus the other night.
Clad in sweats, boxing gloves and headgear, the former standout amateur boxer stood inside the ropes during the homily Saturday night at New Life Church in Sioux Falls.

The church bulletin referred to it as "Saturday Night Slam." But Pastor Alex Klimchuk's intent in turning his altar into a boxing ring was more enticement than entertainment. "We try to reach out to those who aren't already going, who think church is boring," says Klimchuk, 30. "The truth is, the church is having problems getting young men inside them. So we ask, 'What will reach the guys?' This seems like a perfect answer."

For three weeks last month, the church used a fight ring as a parable for the spiritual battles of mankind. New Life staged a tae kwon do bout and submission matches. James and four other pugilists went through a half-dozen two-minute rounds of sparring in front of 75 to 100 mostly young males. It is putting on a self-defense program.

Each round was followed by a message from Klimchuk.

In the past 10 to 20 years, many of Sioux Falls' mainline churches have created "contemporary" services where members show up in blue jeans and with coffee cups. Guitars have become a staple. So have big screens used for presentations.

Judy Shaw, pastor of the non-denominational Center of Life Church, said she sees nothing unusual in turning altars into boxing rings.

"I travel throughout the United States, and I travel abroad, and what Pastor Alex is doing is not out of the ordinary for churches that are very progressive," Shaw said. "A lot of youth will not go to the traditional churches they were raised in. They say it's not relevant, not reaching them and they're bored."

In Dacula, Ga., an Atlanta suburb, minister Ron Brent helps train about 200 people in martial arts at Hebron Baptist Church. The classes hold many opportunities for sharing the Gospel, he says.

"If somebody is scared, I'll stop and share that they're not alone, that God is here with them, that they are here among Christians," Brent says. Even the pads used for protection are ministry opportunities for Brent, who tells his students "you should be putting your spiritual pads on every day."

Across the nation, karate classes have gained popularity.

"The idea that would be going on within a church context doesn't surprise me at all," says Robert Thompson of the Bleier Center for Television and Popular Culture at Syracuse University. He acknowledges that some folks might disapprove.

"Some say it's a wonderful art form," Thompson says. "Others, though, begin to think the sport itself represents a certain kind of behavior that should be frowned upon — namely, hitting one another."

Klimchuk's effort at New Life resonates with Audri Vargas, 17, who started attending the church three years ago.

"Before, church wasn't that fun. It was something I went to because I had to," Vargas said. "But here, I get into the message."