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New Hope indeed
By WAVENEY ANN MOORE, Times Staff Writer
SOUTH PASADENA -- Look up at the balcony of New Hope Church and you will find neither a splendidly robed choir nor the overflow that comes with bulging attendance. Visible instead are bits and pieces of furniture, stacked practically ceiling high, waiting to be claimed by troubled folks who have begged the church to keep their belongings until they get their lives back on track. Weeks have turned to months, and the furniture gathers dust and is a conversation piece at the back of New Hope's sanctuary. The Rev. Gary Hofmeyer, 54, laughs when asked about the unusual decor. What else is a church for, he asks, but to help people? "Our big thing is that Christianity is not just for church on Sunday mornings," he said later. "It's a way of life. It's the way you treat people." Hofmeyer has discovered, though, that although his church needs to minister to those who are fighting addictions and other problems, he cannot build a solid congregation on them alone. So in recent months he has pursued other avenues to revitalize his church. Like some of those he has tried to help, Hofmeyer himself has been down on his luck. So too has his church, which is experiencing a rebirth and six months ago rechristened itself New Hope Church. For almost 48 years of its life, the church, at 6740 Park St. S, had been known as Bethany Reformed Church. Hofmeyer arrived 10 years ago. He was newly divorced, and it was the only job he could get within his Reformed Church in America denomination. For everyone, it appeared to be a perfect match, he said. For five years, the South Pasadena church had been unable to woo a pastor and its Sunday attendance had dropped to about 30 elderly members, most of whom lived in two retirement apartment complexes nearby. The parking lot rarely held more than four cars. "Nobody wanted this church, and nobody wanted me," Hofmeyer said. "If I had been in a normal situation, I would not have considered it. I guess they figured the church was a loser and I was a loser. Just let's put two losers together. They figured I couldn't do a lot of damage." The new job, Hofmeyer said, came with depressing instructions. His denomination ordered that he give the dying community "a good burial." But about 18 months ago, after almost eight years of slow improvement, Hofmeyer and his congregation decided to take drastic steps toward a complete recovery. "I realized that it was time to turn it up a notch," the pastor said. What that meant, in part, was a new name and programs to entice a new, younger crowd. Last Friday evening's coffeehouse, for instance, which drew about 50 people, including families with young children, singles and senior citizens, was designed to do just that. "It's someplace, no matter what denomination you are, you can come and enjoy the music and enjoy the fellowship and meet new people," said Esther Walko, who sat around a table with her husband, Edward, and their grandchildren, Tyler Trant, 10, and Krista Trant, 11. Mrs. Walko, the church's former music director, drew enthusiastic applause for her performance of Dottie Rambo's popular gospel song, I Go to the Rock. Hofmeyer, who sat with a group at one of the candlelit tables, said the monthly gathering was especially designed for "people who don't feel comfortable going to church." "We don't try to preach or anything. ... I think a lot of people think of church people as being big squares," he said. "We're not at all fuddy duddy." The church has made other changes as well. Its organ still plays old favorites such as The Old Rugged Cross and How Great Thou Art, but drums, guitars, electric keyboards and a praise team now have center stage at New Hope's "blended" Sunday morning service. While one of its goals is to attract young people, the South Pasadena church has come to terms with itself, Hofmeyer said. "We are in a senior citizen community and you've got to bloom where you're planted. We made peace with the fact that retired people are fabulous people, that retired people can grow. ... Yet we wanted to be a church for everybody," he said. The church, which now attracts about 120 people during the winter and about 70 in the summer, is working on its new slogan, "Double in Two." "Our goal is that two years from now we have 140 nonwinter people," Hofmeyer said. The congregation hopes that changing its name will draw new people. Few people are familiar with the denomination to which New Hope belongs, its pastor said. The denomination, which developed from the Dutch settlements in New York during the 17th century, is closest in theology to the Presbyterian Church, Hofmeyer said. The best known church in the denomination is the Rev. Robert Schuller's Crystal Cathedral in Garden Grove, Calif. The Reformed Church in America is strongest in Michigan, New Jersey and New York and has 18 churches in Florida, including one each in South Pasadena, Clearwater, Tampa, Bradenton and Hudson. New Hope had to get permission to drop the denominational designation from its name. Explaining the choice of "New Hope," Hofmeyer said: "I wanted a name that would speak more to the people who drive past or hear it. But most of all, that's what we wanted to be." Since his arrival at the church, Hofmeyer has tried to help those struggling with addictions, including at least one person for whom his church balcony has become a storage facility. "For every success, we've had 10 crushing failures. You've got to minister to broken people, but you can't build a church on them," he said, explaining that people in those situations often can't be depended on to be leaders. He knows from experience, he says. "It took me six years to recover from my own issues," he said. Eleven years ago, the Hudson Reformed Church asked him to resign because of his divorce, Hofmeyer said. He was without a job for seven months and even thought of giving up the ministry. Taking the job in Pinellas County allowed him to remain close to his sons, then 11 and 13 years old. There was another benefit that he could not foresee. Six weeks after he started at his new church, he met Dona Spann, a teacher at Bay Point Middle School. "She showed up in church. I looked out in the audience. There were about 30 people and 25 sat in the back two rows. She sat by herself. I thought to myself, I will never see her again," Hofmeyer recalled. "I tried very hard not to hustle one of my parishioners. I tried to be cool. We were married six months later." The congregation grew slowly, helped with the addition of his new wife's father and his family. Michael Kinney, who owns a karate school, joined the congregation around that time. "My mom found this church," said the father of two boys, 6 and 13 years old. "I always went to a big church all my life and this is a small, intimate church. I like belonging to a congregation where people know each other. ... There's churches that have 3,000 members, but that's not the goal." Even as his congregation grows, Hofmeyer would like to preserve the intimacy it now has. "If you go to a large church, you can just sit in your pew and go home, whereas if you go to a smaller church, you really have to make your life count. ... You get to know each other pretty well after a while," he said. "I really like these people. You can't hide. These people know all of my weaknesses and they still like me."
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