New Watchword on the
Marquee
Behold I will build me a nest on the greatness
of God.
Sidney Lanier, "The Marches of Glynn"
Some people call San Diego "the good Los Angeles," with its palm trees, its magnificent harbor, its smog-free air and balmy climate. Others call it sleepy, laid-back, the northern tip of Mexico; they claim the rest of California hardly knows it is there. But when Michael MacIntosh drove his little Volkswagen south and planted his flag in San Diego in January 1975, "America's finest city" (as it calls itself) was growing like a weed and approaching a metropolitan population of one million. Tijuana, a few miles to the south, was growing even faster.
Michael's first move was to schedule Sunday morning worship services in the Hospitality House. These quickly went to two services, while the Monday evening Bible studies were still drawing hundreds of listeners. The need for larger facilities was immediate. Michael found a realtor who had bought an abandoned church building and was trying to rent it. The congregation on Linda Vista Avenue had dissolved in bankruptcy. The property had two auditoriums, one of which had been used to hold a Bible school. Michael rented the smaller one, and on the first
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Sunday in February 150 people showed up for the morning worship. By Easter the congregation had swelled to 650 at two services.
But Sundays were only part of the excitement. The Monday night Bible studies began drawing crowds running from 1,200 to 1,300. The church only held 750 seats; and people were camped on window ledges, in the foyer, and wherever they could be squeezed in. The Bible study was moved to Wednesday night, which caused a temporary drop in attendance, but soon the crowds were larger than ever. The worship services were a blending of traditional elements, of features borrowed from Calvary Chapel, and of the MacIntosh touch. There were no song books, no choir, no piano or organ. The old hymns and gospel songs were sung occasionally; but the worshipers seemed to prefer new melodies, many of which they were writing themselves, melodies that expressed their love and freedom in the Lord. Usually a guitarist would lead the singing.
The media woke up to the fact that the ministry of Calvary Chapel (as it was called) had become the talk of the religious community. People spoke of the "anointing of the Spirit"; they said, "Jesus is doing something in this city." Ministers showed up to study the worship order. Reporters wrote articles for the local press. Photographs were taken. Michael was invited on television talk shows.
The church began to take form. MacIntosh was the pastor, Don Abshere the assistant pastor. Dean Keeling had moved down from Huntington Beach and was putting together the Sunday school. Pastor Chuck Smith appeared to give his blessing to the newest Calvary Chapel. Both auditoriums were now in full use.
In April, Jonathan, the second child of the remarriage, was born, and six weeks later Sandra and her young family moved at last from Orange County to Escondido. By
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this time a thousand people were attending Sunday services at Linda Vista, and the walls of the old church were beginning to bulge. College students, young married couples, and people of different ethnic backgrounds came, listened, and joined. Michael was counseling people every day, often from 9 A.M. until 7 P.M.
One evening Scott Gehrman and his wife, Charlene, walked into the church. Scott considered himself a quintessential child of his culture, a long-haired, dope-smoking, pill-swallowing, draft-dodging, pilfering, sex-turned-on rebel whose bitter grievance against life began at age thirteen when his mother died. His father, alarmed by the boy's aberrant behavior, ordered him to talk to a minister. Scott's response was to disappear from home for four days. As he grew older the rebellious streak became more sophisticated. Marriage did little to tame it; his philandering continued. Charlene, however, began attending the Linda Vista church and invited him to the services. "It's not a church like you think of church," they assured him. "We even have rock concerts!"
Scott finally decided to go and get it over with. But the minute he stepped inside the building, he sensed something different. Looking around the packed auditorium, he saw blue jeans, long hair, and people his own age. Unpleasant memories of past church experiences faded away. The singing began, and at first he couldn't tell where it was coming from. Then he realized it was coming from the people. Excitement was in the air. When Michael MacIntosh appeared, he was wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and tennis shoes and carried an open Bible and talked about love. The longer he spoke, the more Scott related to him. An invitation was given, and Scott Gehrman responded. As he opened his heart to Jesus Christ, the gall of bitterness that had poisoned his life for so many years seemed
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to dissolve. The pain of the empty years was dropped into the sea of forgetfulness. The man was healed.
But the Linda Vista site still was not the answer for a church blessed with rapid growth; so when 1976 arrived, Calvary Chapel was once again on the quest for new quarters where there would be room to keep on growing. In June of that year Michael and Sandra attended a showing of the World Wide Pictures classic, The Hiding Place, at the North Park theater in San Diego. As Michael looked around the vast interior with its seating for 1,200 persons, he whispered to Sandra, "What a great home this would make for us!"
Sandra looked at the rococo decorations around the stage and whispered, "Maybe."
"I mean, this is what we've been looking for!"
"I'm watching the movie."
"But don't you see? I wonder what they want for it!"
"Shhhh."
Within a month Michael was having a conversation with a realtor friend when the latter remarked, "I've got an old theater for sale."
"Which one?"
"The old North Park theater on University Avenue."
"I'm interested. What's the down payment?"
"Seventy thousand dollars."
The combined Sunday morning and evening services at the Linda Vista site now totaled close to two thousand. Few churches if any in San Diego County could match that figure. The rented facilities were obviously outgrown. But the idea of a building campaign, with high powered fund-raising activities, repelled Michael. He decided that if the worshipers at Calvary Chapel wanted North Park theater (which had recently begun running X-rated movies) as a permanent place of worship, they
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would have to provide the money. He would take no special offering.
The money came in and the theater was bought. The ornate old theater with its tired decor was refurbished top to bottom. The orchestra pit was entombed under wooden planks, the drops and curtains were raised, the floors recarpeted. The stage on which vaudevillians like Ted Lewis, Sophie Tucker, and Burns and Allen used to hoof it while spieling their songs and monologues was opened up and made a platform for musicians and preachers. The marquee out front that used to advertise Gone with the Wind and High Noon now announced GOD LOVES YOU!
In less than three years from the time Kathy Reilly was saved in the Point Loma living room of Steven and Barbara Keeling, the miracle church had found a home. From that living room to the Junior High auditorium to Hospitality House to Ocean Beach Women's Club to Linda Vista to North Park theater, the story was one of God's bountiful increase. And the end was not yet.
