Columbus church's readiness for change fueled by passion for souls

By Norm Miller

Published: July 21, 2005

COLUMBUS, Ga. (BP) - Few Southern Baptist churches would remove tens of thousands of dollars worth of pews and platform furniture to install theater seats, a sound stage and a small stool and music stand for the pastor and his Bible.

Twenty-two years ago, Bill Purvis became pastor of Cascade Hills Baptist Church in Columbus. Once having been the church's youth minister, the congregation had dwindled to 32 members. Today, Cascade Hills has more than 7,000 members.

Norm MillerBP

iGod: little i, big God - A takeoff on Apple Computer's iPod ads provides the backdrop for Cascade Hills' Church pastor Bill Purvis, whose heart for non-Christians motivated him and the church to seek new and effective ways of sharing the Gospel.

Such transformation takes passion - a passion that was kindled when God first transformed Purvis' youthful passions.

Years ago, having followed a prostitute into a dark apartment, Purvis was repeatedly stabbed by a third person. With the multiple wounds, including a punctured lung and severed jugular, Purvis should have bled to death in about four minutes. Instead, he stumbled to the street where a waiting friend sped him to the hospital. That turned Purvis toward God.

Purvis jumped into the Lord's work with both feet, and after a few years of his return to Cascade Hills, you couldn't park anywhere near the burgeoning church.

Incremental growth continued, but Purvis had a heart for the next generation. Whereas the traditional Baptist format had sufficed for many years, Purvis saw the cultural shift and decided to do something about it.

The largest age group in Columbus was 19-35-year-olds, so Purvis led in a more contemporary approach to reaching the age bracket with intensity and purpose. "We were purpose-driven long before Rick Warren ever wrote his book," Purvis said.

Revamping the entire church program, Purvis eliminated everything that was not reaching lost people.

"Reaching an unchurched generation is still so heavy on my heart that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to build a church for tomorrow," Purvis said. Cascade Hills could have continued the status quo, he said, "But we were drawing 'church-hoppers' who had religious baggage, and we were clearly missing the 19-35-year-olds."

Cascade Hills' entire program was transformed. The choir disbanded, the loft was dismantled, Purvis shed his buttoned-down pastor image for casual attire. Sunday School became Real Life Groups, which include discipleship classes, seminars on divorce recovery, marriage, sports and outdoor ministries, support groups for grieving people and for wives of soldiers deployed overseas from nearby Fort Benning. Increasingly the church offered its facilities for civic, non-church functions.

Being perceived as a visionary pastor of a cutting-edge church doesn't drive Purvis, but lost souls do. Purvis says attendance and finances have continued to go up, despite the departure of 200 families who preferred the church's former traditional style.

The absence of pastoral turfism is another anomaly for Purvis. In fact, he has led members to plant a church three blocks from Cascade Hills to reach those who like Southern Gospel music. The church now has about 400.

It all starts with the pastor, Purvis said. "Not only should he provide leadership in the ministry of the local church, he is also responsible for seeing that the church is in alignment with the Great Commission. Our job is to invest our lives in the salvation of lost people."