Authentic Presence in Unexpected Places

Lauri Varieur co-pastors the Fullerton Vineyard in Southern California with her husband Wade. They planted the church on Mother’s Day weekend a decade ago with 80 people, many of whom still attend the church.

Lauri and Wade’s desire is for the church to be incredibly relational, where people are truly known and valued, and that extends to their outward-facing ministries as well. “Since we started our church, we’ve come alongside emancipated foster youth to provide Christmas and a bowling night, para-church ministries that minister to the poor in our neighborhood, the school district to provide groceries for students’ families, and a shower and laundry ministry for the unhoused,” Lauri says.

The pastors see it as a way to connect with the unhoused people in their community on a level of dignity and personhood. Marsha, who leads the ministry, knows each person’s name, learns their needs, and then finds ways to meet them, including practical things like finding them new undergarments in their specific sizes and cozy throw blankets that they can easily carry with them in the winter. “Many of the people we serve are mentally ill and many of them actually don’t mind living on the street,” Lauri explains. “They don’t care where their help comes from; they just need it. We have a prayer tent that many people take advantage of, but we’re not doing this to grow the church.”

Lauri emphasizes that this ministry is a way to be the church in their local community, not a way to get people into their church. “I think that once you start serving people as a means to evangelize, it becomes transactional, and you can lose sight that these are people with very real needs. I don’t think serving or giving should ever be transactional, because it wasn’t with Jesus.”

Another ministry that Fullerton Vineyard has become known for is their “Roscoe’s Nights,” which were born from a word the Lord gave Wade about stewarding the many talented musicians in their church. “Again, this is not a transactional ministry. We do it because we have an abundance of musicians, tech people, and creative people, and our city is about music and creativity.” For the past 8 years, church members have been going to a bar called Roscoe’s in downtown Fullerton to play music, usually with a theme for the night like “The 90’s,” It has evolved to where people dress up in theme and they dance and have a great time. “Now, other patrons come when they know that we’re going to be there on a particular night, because they appreciate the music and the fact that it’s not a bait and switch,” Lauri says. “It’s a space where people who don’t feel comfortable in the church or have been hurt by the church, many of whom are still working through their hurt, can interact with our church in a really casual and fun way.”

Lauri and Wade are committed to living an integrated life where they are authentically themselves regardless of their environment. “Most of the miracles in Acts occur outside the temple on the way somewhere or in the city. The church happens out there,” Lauri says. “We want to be present in those third spaces so Jesus can manifest his presence through us for the sake of others.” While they don’t evangelize from the stage at Roscoe’s Nights, Jesus is still very much present.

“There’s prayer that happens in the corners, and it’s very relational; people come and then cry through ‘Purple Rain,’ wondering ‘Why am I crying?’ Nothing compares to the relational stuff happening at Roscoe’s, and a lot of it happens via text afterward… We get to have these relational conversations with people who don’t believe and answer questions that they probably wouldn’t feel comfortable asking within a church. Because there’s loud music and it’s in this setting, those questions become acceptable.”

Lauri says that their relationship with the staff at Roscoe’s is also one of their favorite parts about being there. “The staff—waiters and bartenders—ask to be put on our shift, saying, ‘We don’t know why, but we always feel good. The atmosphere changes when you guys are here.’ And we’re like, ‘Well if you wanna know more, let’s talk it over with a beer or a sandwich.’”

Some of this relational connectedness didn’t come as easy, and there’s one relationship in particular that Lauri is intentionally stewarding. “Roscoe’s is owned by a bunch of brothers,” she explains, “and when Wade and I first approached them to ask about hosting our church on Friday nights to do music, promising that we’d all spend money on food and drinks and bring in business, the man we were talking to basically looked us up and down and laughed in our faces, and we left feeling shame. On the first Friday night we were there, the staff was elated at the number of people who came. But I was standing behind the guy we had originally talked to, and I overheard him making fun of us for being Christians, and I admit my inner New Yorker got the best of me. I tapped him on the shoulder and said ‘Yeah, well it looks like you had a really good night with our church,’ and he was immediately trying to cover his tracks and tell me I misheard him. I walked away, but after about an hour, I reminded myself why we were there. I wanted to find him to apologize and eventually discovered he was up in his office, totally destroyed by that interaction. He came downstairs right as I was leaving, and I caught him and said, ‘I have to apologize.’ He immediately burst into tears, this big tough bar owner. It was a Holy Spirit moment. The man has been different with us since that encounter, much closer. I’m curious to see what the Lord does.”