c. 2005 Religion News Service

TORONTO _ One of the first questions the Rev. Ken Davis has had to fend off, mainly from prurient reporters, is what his new church would do with the brass stripper’s pole and the nine disco balls that came with the building.

Finally, he can answer.

“Well, I’m happy to say the brass pole was auctioned off for $30 ($24 U.S.), and we’re keeping the disco balls,” says Davis with a smile. “We’ll use them for the kids.”

In the meantime, renovations are coming along at the Olive Branch Community Church, where member volunteers have joined contractors to gut the building, install pews and generally rid the place of the stench of sin.

When the congregation opens its doors in April, it won’t bear much resemblance to Friction Gentleman’s Club, a notorious striptease joint that occupied the site for years.

The significance of a church taking over a sleazy strip club isn’t lost on Davis and the 150 members of his evangelical congregation.

“God works in interesting ways,” says the soft-spoken, 51-year-old minister. “He takes something that doesn’t have a good reputation and turns it into something good.

“We have a chance to do something positive for this area.”

The congregation met at the club for a one-time Sunday service in December. “People wanted to see it before renovations began,” Davis says. “My sermon was about the eviction of Friction.”

Olive Branch, part of the Congregational Christian Churches of Canada, has met at a local golf club since its founding a year ago in Markham, a bedroom community northeast of Toronto. From the beginning, the church scouted more than 30 locations for a permanent home, with no luck.

When the congregation’s real estate agent suggested the Friction property might be for sale, members thought it was a joke. “We decided to check it out anyway,” Davis says.

The church’s inquiries were initially ignored, but soon the club saw potential for a windfall. The initial asking price was $7.8 million ($6.4 million U.S.) for the land, building and business.

The last demand was quickly scotched. “The church is not in the stripper business,” the pastor declares.

But then negotiations got serious, and the club agreed to sell for just under $4 million ($3.2 million U.S.) _ on the condition that half that amount would be paid as a down payment in just three weeks.

“We took a congregational vote to come with $2 million ($1.6 million U.S.) in cash within three Sundays,” Davis says. “We came up with $1.36 million ($1.1 million U.S.), and at the last minute, a member gave us a $600,000 loan ($494,000 U.S.).”

Questions, though, lingered.

“What happens to that money? Who gets it? We had to think about that from a theological perspective,” he says. But with time running out, a deal was sealed.

Meantime, renovations are expected to cost another $500,000 ($411,000 U.S.). More than 100 volunteers have signed up to help. Carpets are being torn up in the 23,000-square-foot building. Fixtures are being scrubbed to within inches of their lives. Plans call for a day-care center, classrooms and movable pews.

Asked what the place looked like when board members first entered, Davis says: “We found our share of condoms. There were also these black lights. They illuminate only whites. When we turned them off and turned on the regular lights, we saw the place was filthy. It wasn’t pretty.”

Indeed, local police say Friction has been plagued with trouble in recent years. Assaults, drug dealing, threats and damage to property were common. Last spring, undercover work resulted in nine prostitution charges against dancers.

The deal also hinged on securing the proper zoning.

“The property was rezoned quickly. The town has rolled out the red carpet for us,” Davis says.

The new facility, located in an industrial area dotted with low-slung crackerbox buildings, will have a capacity of between 600 and 700. About 350 people have been attending the church’s Sunday services.

While members are thrilled the strippers have moved out, Davis says he doesn’t want them to go completely. Friction staff members have been invited to join the church to have their souls’ needs met.

“We sincerely hope they will take us up on the offer. There’s not a man in the world who would want their 10-year-old daughter to grow up and dance for a bunch of leering guys,” Davis says.

The pastor sees his church’s move as a parable of new ownership and a “new interior” in people’s lives.

“There was lots of sadness and brokenness there. We’re great at shining up the exterior of our lives, but no one really knows what makes us sad and broken. We need a renovation too.”

Anyway, he adds, the church is inheriting a great sound system as well as a giant fiberglass volcano. Whenever a particularly suggestive dancer performed at the club, the volcano would “erupt.”

The contraption will be placed in a part of the church that will house the youth group, which is called, appropriately, Playing With Fire. “They’re called that so they will learn not to get burned by life,” Davis explains.

KRE/PH END RNS