I’ve long thought about writing an article about Port City Community Church for the StarNews. Really, since I started attending about three months ago. I had the outline in my head, I had the various sections broken down, I knew who I’d talk to and what I’d say and how I’d write it. I’ve already talked with its pastor, Mike Ashcraft, once before. (While floating half a mile down Wrightsville Beach on surfboards, at that.)
PC3 is, in my humble opinion, the first church I’ve ever been in that does everything exactly how I’ve long imagined churches should be done. I went through an incredibly bitter (and, I might as well add, immature) phase with Christianity largely because of the various churches I’d attended. I’m a happy guy by nature, but the flaws I saw with so many churches I found intolerable. There were good ones along the way, but even in those I saw vast room for improvement. The world is badly starved for church done right. PC3 nails it.
I remember being recommended PC3 by Aaron Kennedy, one of my pastors from my home church, Open Door Ministries, in Greenville. He told me it was pretty much a megachurch, so I, naturally, dismissed it, passing it off as flawed simply because it was huge. I didn’t like what I’d seen of any other megachurches out there. Not that I’ve seen all or even many, but the idea of a church of 5000-plus said to me that somebody was in it for more than just helping folks live right.
I remembering hearing Mike speak and (1) thinking he was some guest speaker from some college ministry or something filling in for the day, he was so laid back, in his jeans and short-sleeved shirt and slip-on shoes and spiked-up hair; and (2) being amazed at how authentic he seemed. He spoke as though without pretension, even hidden ones, and he carried no metaphorical shields. Did he pass out lists of his sins? Of course not. But you knew you were hearing from a broken, humble, honest man who genuinely experienced God and simply wanted to help others do the same.
That word – authenticity – captures the essence of Port City. I’ve never heard someone I more enjoyed hearing. I told Mike this: I’m one of the most critical people I know. Not of people, but of false Christianity. The Christianity as lived and defined by the people who tell you that the way you wear your hair and your clothes determines your righteousness. Christians who obsess over convincing their congregations that one version of the Bible is more holy than another; that certain music is the devil’s music; that we must convert the world.
I remember telling Katie so often how I just wished I could do something to convince the world and Christians like those that it wasn’t about conversions or perfection, that it was just about getting to know and fall in love with Jesus Christ.
Then I heard Mike. I felt like he’d already done what I didn’t know I wanted to do. It was pretty relieving, actually. Later, one of my cousins-in-law told me the entire staff is all paid virtually the same, meaning that nobody’s really getting rich off running the place.
I told Katie, “I gotta talk to this guy. I gotta know if he’s for real.”
Two weeks later I nearly hit him in the Target parking lot. Didn’t speak to him then, but his reaction was awesome. He just laughed, put his shopping cart in the racks, and walked back to his car. Three weeks after that, Katie and I hit the beach, trying to surf for the first time together.
You gotta understand the circumstances surrounding this venture. We’d just bought two surfboards. One was really good, a 7’3” BIC that by all accounts on the Internet was great for beginners. The other was that piece I can’t sell off. That we were even out there was completely spontaneous that day. I didn’t even have fins in the crappy board.
I walked right past Mike on the way to the beach. “Dude,” I told Katie after we passed him. “I think that was our pastor.”
A few minutes later, as I was failing miserably on the board, it shot out from under my feet and, as it was sans leash, flew practically onto the beach. Mike came up. “Dude, I don’t want to be one of those guys,” he said, “but you can get fined $150 for that.”
That would have sucked, getting fined $150 for using a $40 surfboard.
We ended up asking advice, Katie and I, about surfing and surfboards. He answered everything, joked about the crappy board, was totally cool.
Then, later, when he drifted back our way he and I started talking about the church and its growth and our own stories and backgrounds, which were, though with differences, strangely similar. I’m actually going to write out my story, the full story, sometime in the next week or two and post it on here as a focal foundation for the blog.
Mike talked with me for about thirty minutes. We drifted about half a mile down the beach. Eventually he realized that and said, “Whoa, how long have we been talking? I’m supposed to be watching my kids!” With that we said take it easy, see you around, and he was off, paddling away, back to his kids.
Yesterday afternoon, PC3 (as it’s commonly called) celebrated its 10th birthday. (Check out the intro video here: http://vimeo.com/7229759 In the words of Millie Holloman, EPIC!) I heard the story of the Kenyan pastor who emailed Mike a few years ago, literally out of nowhere. Sold his car to fly to the United States just for a chance to meet Mike. Today, the two are great friends. I’ll be writing that story for the StarNews, so keep an eye out in the next couple of weeks for it.
However, I won’t be writing the story about PC3’s meteoric rise since 1999, when it was 80 college students meeting at Mike’s house. Burke Speaker at the StarNews already did in May 2009. Some reporter I am. Just discovered that a few minutes ago at starnewsonline.com in the archives. Burke did a fantastic job capturing the essence of Mike, who is as real speaking to thousands as he is floating on a surfboard. Burke’s story is an awesome read. I just sat here and read the whole thing, which I’ve pasted below for you if you want to check it out. Enjoy.
Growing a few college students into a megachurch
In the moments before he’s scheduled to take the stage in front of a sanctuary overflowing with devoted followers, a noticeably anxious Mike Ashcraft Keep reading →
Galef
In his book Beyond Belief, Josh Hamilton tells of seeing a demon once while on the baseball field, then again in his hotel room. But then, Hamilton may have been coked out of his mind, as his book is entirely about his struggle to overcome cocaine and myriad other drugs through the power of Jesus Christ. Rubbish, the skeptics say.
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