Many of those attending the drive-through prayer service at the Cardiff Heights Baptist church on Tuesday and Thursday mornings are not what the church's Reverend describes as "committed, steady Christians".
Most are commuters on their way to work or the hospital just up the road. Some may have never had faith before; others may not know how to pray and seem to appreciate the guidance. The drive-through doesn't discriminate.
It started about two years ago in the unsealed off-road at the front of the church that many commuters were using for a convenient turning bay in peak hour morning traffic when the queues stretched back from the arterial Newcastle Inner City Bypass that leads up, past the John Hunter Hospital and on to Lambton, or down toward Garden Suburb.
On that score, at least, Lead Pastor Glen Devenish said the opportunity to "join in God's work" more or less presented itself.
"From my office in the ministry centre, I could always see people using (the turning bay) that way," Reverend Devenish told Topics. "When I was a civil engineer, I found people were generally open if I offered to pray for them in certain situations.
"People feel comfortable driving into our space and turning around ... we thought, why not offer a prayer to people."
A prayer at the drive-through can be offered up for almost any concern. Some seek guidance on their way to or from the hospital. Others are travelling to job interviews or work appointments. Some are just happy to see the service is there.
Reverend Devenish remembers a child who wanted a prayer for a bird that had fallen out of a tree near her home. On Thursday morning, a young boy wanted to pray that he would grow up to be like Spiderman. All are taken seriously and given due consideration even if - as was the case on Thursday morning - the faithful were reminded that while God works in mysterious ways, wish fulfilment isn't strictly part of the deal.
"We get lots of different requests," Reverend Devenish said. "We had a guy who had just become a dad that morning; his wife had given birth in the hospital, and he had gone home to get some stuff, and he had come to share the excitement.
"There was a mum whose son had changed schools and who was struggling, and just driving past each Tuesday and Thursday and seeing us wave had picked up the spirits."
Not everyone who drives past the Cardiff Heights Baptist Church is supportive.
"Some people don't like what we're doing," the reverend said. "I think I've had more people give me the middle finger than I ever had before in my life."
Then: "I think that with everything that has happened around the royal commission and so on, there is a fair bit of negative perception around Christians in our community."
"We generally don't get a lot of people who I would describe as committed, steady Christians; people that you might find in another church because I think they're already aware that they can pray and are quite comfortable doing that. They may find the idea of a drive-through prayer weird.
"But we just want to help people wherever they are."
The drive-through prayer service carves out a space for the divine that seems to fit neatly into the traffic jam of modern life, a convenient balm between the coffee run and the morning meeting for the question that has tortured philosophers and confounded souls on both sides of the conversion for as long as there has been faith to speak of. If we are to go looking for God, where do we look?
The drive-through prayer has, in that sense, a touch of fast food about it (an element that the reverend readily admits) but the service isn't meant to be the beginning and the end. It's a stop on the road.
"Faith is far more of a journey than a pull-in, and we pray for you, and that's it," he said, "We want to inspire people to pray, whether it's praying with us or praying because they have been reminded about that."
Most of the prayers the Reverend describes offer guidance or support at a specific moment in the lives of those who drive in. He says about 600 people wave or sound the horn as they pass on a given Tuesday or Thursday, but those who use the service aren't necessarily looking to replace faith for a more convenient option.
"We don't get people coming through for a regular hit," Reverend Devenish said.
"Even though it has that name that links it to your KFC or Maccas, fast-food drive-through idea, it doesn't actually translate to that.
"The kind of people who are impacted by what we do seem to be people who have had some experience with the church but that haven't been involved for a while and are seeking help. Or people for whom this is a first step."
