A powerful megachurch’s harsh tactics raise questions about how much control churches should have over their members’ lives.
Until last fall, a 25-year-old Seattle man named Andrew was happily committed to Mars Hill Church, one of America’s fastest-growing megachurches with more than 5,000 members. He volunteered weekly for security duty at his branch of the church, joined a Bible study group, and had recently become engaged to the daughter of a church elder. Then he made a mistake that found him cast out: He cheated on his fiancee with a community college classmate. The fury over Andrew’s experience—and his decision to publicize the church’s internal disciplinary procedures—has led to accusations by other Christians that one of the most powerful evangelical voices in the country, Mars Hill pastor Mark Driscoll, employs a cultlike leadership style. Now, for the first time, Mars Hill is speaking out in response to its former member’s charges.
Driscoll is an unusually polarizing figure within the American evangelical community. Though he can resemble a hipster ex-wrestler as he paces the stage in sneakers and jeans, his theology is old-school Calvinist. Driscoll reveres masculinity even in matters that seem merely aesthetic: He’s a fan of mixed-martial arts but calls yoga “demonic.” If Mars Hill’s discipline practices are indeed oppressive, it’s hard not to make the connection to Driscoll’s fascination with powerful manhood.
Perhaps unsurprisingly for a man this interested in structures of authority, Driscoll maintains a firm grip over his congregation. Mars Hill is nondenominational, which means it doesn’t formally answer to any outside institutional bodies, so Driscoll holds the power. He has preached against “sinning through questioning” and once said publicly he would like to “go Old Testament” on dissenters. He has reported that he can sometimes “see things” about his members’ past sins.
Advertisement
Now, as even fellow evangelical Christians express concern about how Andrew was shunned, the church must confront questions about whether its disciplinary practices are misunderstood and biblical, or disturbingly controlling. Is Mars Hill’s PR drama a lesson in how even the best institutions will have disgruntled critics, or a case of an increasingly powerful organization abusing its members’ trust?
Like most churches, Mars Hill’s right to exercise discipline begins with membership. (You’re not going to get quizzed about your sex life just for taking a seat one Sunday.) Upon agreeing to join the church, would-be members must sign a “covenant.”
