In a trendy coffeehouse, a jolt of religion

On weekdays, Laurel Pennock goes to Q Cafe, her favorite non-profit coffeehouse, where the sofas are comfy, the music is likely to be indie rock and the java is shade-grown, fair-trade and, of course, organic.

Sunday, the 24-year-old file clerk goes to the same place, but this time for the bread and wine and a large wooden cross. That's when the cafe morphs into Quest church, an evangelical congregation that attracts lots of young people who like to hang out in cafes.

"It's nice having your favorite hangout place be your church on Sunday," she said, near the barista bar after a recent sermon.

If church with your latte seems strange, how about some thumping techno music before communion? Or fellowship at a drum circle, baptism at Gas Works Park or a punk rock show run by Christians?

While many Northwest churches struggle for membership, a new crop of churches is retooling traditional worship to appeal to younger people turned off by organized religion. Sometimes called "emerging" churches, they are mostly run by young pastors who infuse art, music and pop culture into faith.

A common trait among emerging churches is that they're relatively new and cater mostly to twenty- and thirtysomethings. Otherwise, the churches offer a spectrum in style and theology, from the large, ultraconservative Mars Hill Church to the bohemian Church of the Apostles.

The movement is international, but numbers are hard to pinpoint. TheOoze, a Web community dedicated to the movement, counts 10,000 members. Its annual "Soularize" conference attracted 500 people last year, for such workshops as "Theology's New Groove" and "Why I Stopped Going to Church."

"A big question is, who do you trust?" said Patricia O'Connell Killen, a professor of religion at Pacific Lutheran University. She said many young people distrust institutions, including traditional churches, but do trust "their own visceral experience of the divine."

"What these new churches do, they create a worship service and a small-group intimate experience that evokes powerful emotion. And for many, many young people in their 20s and 30s, truth is tied to the intensity of emotional response," she said.

"(It's) 'I know God is real and here and in my life because I feel it.' "

Many pastors talk about "community" and "presence," regardless if that presence is a trendy party, casual coffeehouse or all-ages rock show. But they say they don't use those opportunities to evangelize -- at least, not aggressively.

For Eugene Cho, the 33-year-old executive director of Q Cafe and senior pastor of Quest Church, starting his own church was a chance to live closer to his faith.

He had been a pastor at the large, Korean-American Onnuri Multicultural Church in Lynnwood, when he quit with dreams of serving a more diverse, urban community. He thought: What better way than a non-profit cafe? "We don't want to just talk about our faith," Cho likes to say. "We want to be our faith."

Last year, his church started Q Cafe in Interbay, with a community center and hopes for a drop-in health clinic. It is financially separate from the church with no religious icons on weekdays, and the baristas are not supposed to proselytize.

"One can call this evangelism, but we're not here to convert people. Our desire is to be a presence, to serve people," Cho said.

That's something Karen Ward understands well. A pastor at a Lutheran church in Mercer Island, Ward left last year to start Church of the Apostles, a tiny congregation where a disc jockey spins techno music before and after service. She knows many people think stepping inside a church is "as foreign as entering a spaceship," so she preaches in jeans, throws parties around town and holds Bible studies at pubs and restaurants.

"Who doesn't like to go to dinner?" said Ward, who is in her 30s. "We've stopped trying to get people to come to church. We're trying to take church to the people. ... We consider the world to be God's, and that includes pubs, coffeehouses, parties and art galleries."

That appealed to Stephanie Maxson, an Episcopalian who had been searching for a church for 10 years. She had wanted a service that had communion but wasn't too stuffy. She tried Quaker meetings, an urban Episcopal church and a Presbyterian church full of college students.

Nothing fit until she found Apostles in Phinney Ridge.

"I like the way (Ward) incorporates culture and things that are familiar to us and how they relate to faith," said Maxson, 36-year-old development coordinator at a non-profit fund.

By far one of the most successful emerging churches in Seattle is Mars Hill, where 1,200 people -- many in their early 20s -- come for a nearly hourlong, Bible-based sermon. They're mostly casual in shorts and sandals, but they're conservative in faith: Many submit to "full-dunkin' " baptisms in Lake Union.

The church has grown so large that it moved into a 40,000-square-foot warehouse in Ballard in March, and ABC News filmed them last month.

"I like how they don't skip over the tough sections of the Bible," said Jason Bone, a 24-year-old naval architect. He said the church taught him how to act like a "good Christian man" with a woman he wants to date.

"Even though I may have those lustful feelings, I'm defensive of it," he said. "When I first wanted to pursue her, I talked to her dad."

Pastor Mark Driscoll, who is 32, believes the conservative theology -- coupled with an acceptance of young, urban culture -- appeals to 20-somethings. He and fellow pastor Tim Smith, who is 28, are as comfortable quoting Scripture as they are discussing the post-modernism of "Star Trek: The Next Generation."

"I don't care if you smoke, if you drink beer, if you brew beer, if you have tattoos, if you're in a hard-core punk band. I just care that you love Jesus," said Driscoll, who started the church seven years ago.

It doesn't hurt that Mars Hill is influential in the indie-music scene; until this year, it ran the Paradox Theatre, one of the best places to see an all-ages punk show in Seattle.

The church plans to reopen the Paradox in its warehouse with more space. Will the hard-core Christians try to convert punk rockers?

No, Smith said. "We don't do a bait and switch," by promoting a punk show and then "(dropping) the Gospel on them," he said.

Rather, the church wants to help people explore their creativity -- whether they feel "God's fingerprint" or not.