How Minnesota's biggest church grows as others shrink

"7 wide, 7 wide!" the producer shouted in a control room at Eagle Brook Church's main campus in Lino Lakes. He peered at eight wall-mounted television monitors and switched from wide shots to dramatic close-ups, beaming this service to all of Eagle Brook's statewide campuses. "Six, then nine on drop. Take six. Go ahead nine. Very nice!"

It was 11 a.m. sharp, the second of two Sunday services on a recent weekend at Minnesota's largest church. The bandleader kicked things off in an understated way: "Hey everybody, welcome to church." He launched into Christian rock songs whose lyrics were projected on two huge screens in this packed auditorium: plenty of Vikings jerseys, many of the 2,000 parishioners holding a cup of Eagle Brook blend coffee from the church's Starbucks-esque cafe.

As the lead pastor of this campus spoke about finding community in this massive church, a clock in back ticked down to zero, ensuring all the campuses and online hosts stuck to the same schedule. Then Ted Cunningham, an author, comedian, pastor of a Missouri church and member of Eagle Brook's teaching team, took the stage.

The leaders of Minnesota's largest church don't love the word "megachurch." That comes with too many connotations: too politicized, too business-like, too impersonal. "I don't like it at all," senior pastor Jason Strand said in an interview. "The minute people label us 'megachurch,' there's all sorts of thoughts and baggage comes with that."

Eagle Brook prefers "multi-site church." As Cunningham preached about time management, a message about centering God in our lives, his image beamed to a dozen more sites across Minnesota.

Eagle Brook's numbers are mind-boggling. As American church attendance declines — 30% of Americans attend religious services weekly or nearly every week, according to a Gallup survey, down from 42% two decades ago — this Baptist-affiliated church has become one of America's largest and fastest-growing churches.

An average Eagle Brook weekend has about 25,000 people worshiping in person. The 13th Minnesota location opened in September in Baxter, near Brainerd, and a 14th opens in Red Wing this weekend.

In Rochester on a recent Sunday, where services are conducted at the Mayo Civic Center until the church raises money for a northwest Rochester expansion on land it purchased for $600,000, the Lino Lakes sermon was simulcast to more than 100 people. At the new outpost near Brainerd, hundreds packed inside.

Another 27,000 devices tune in online, individuals at home as well as nearly 50 larger viewing groups across Minnesota as well as in New York, Arizona and Florida. The church streams services in 19 correctional facilities in Minnesota. The Wright County Jail had 42 inmates for a recent viewing group; a home in Hancock, a west-central Minnesota town of fewer than 1,000 people, regularly sees 40 people.

Eagle Brook has 261 full-time employees, a $53 million budget and an expansion fund of $10 million this year. Its 2024 annual report records the impact: 9,184 decisions to follow Jesus, 2,249 baptisms, 2,798 families contributing more than $5,000 to its general fund. Services are efficient, the product is consistent at all locations, and it operates without debt, never building a campus until it is fully paid for.

The growth rankles some. Some online commenters deride it as a "concert and coffee shop" vibe. Plenty criticize the church for catering to a well-off, white, suburban clientele. The church dropped a proposal to build a 60,000-square-foot church in Minnetonka in 2022 after neighbors pushed back. The Plymouth City Council this year reversed its decision to deny a new 64,000-square-foot building after the church threatened a lawsuit.

Yet according to Strand, a 45-year-old father of five raised in the Twin Cities suburbs never attending church, becoming so big was never some grand plan. The plan is simply to remove barriers to entry and bring people to Christ. That comes out in many ways: focusing on core Christian beliefs without being drawn into today's divisive politics, or devoting nights to groups on grief or divorce or addiction.

It's why this Sunday's Scripture-laden sermon on time management for busy parents is really about maximizing our time on earth, while the next Sunday's sermon on generosity is really about happiness coming not from consuming but from giving. The church leads with universal topics that speak to Christians and non-Christians alike.

"People go places where they can find value," Strand said.

From a living room to worldwide

It started in a living room. A few years after World War II, Sam and Ethel Hane began hosting Sunday services at home in White Bear Lake, and for a decade, that's all First Baptist Church was. The church purchased its first building in 1958, but it wasn't until 1972 that it dedicated its first new building.

Growth didn't begin in earnest until Bob Merritt, a Wisconsin country pastor who'd just gotten his doctorate from Penn State University, took over a 300-person congregation in 1991 and expanded it to 2,000 congregants in five years.

The church renamed itself Eagle Brook Church, and in 2005, the massive Lino Lakes location opened. The next year the church had to reopen its old White Bear Lake location to accommodate overflow crowds. The year after that came a third location, in Spring Lake Park, the first to simulcast services. Within a decade, five more locations opened, and Strand, an Eagle Brook student ministry pastor and teaching pastor, was named Merritt's successor.

Deciding to build a new Eagle Brook campus isn't an exact science, Strand said. When the Spring Lake Park campus felt overgrown, they built another in nearby Blaine. Five of the church's 14 campuses, including the new ones in Baxter and Red Wing, began when struggling churches approached Eagle Brook about taking over.

Often, megachurches fall captive to a cult of personality. It's not Lakewood Church in Texas; it's Joel Osteen's church. It's not Saddleback Church in California; it's Rick Warren's church. One charismatic leader can capture a flock, but what happens when that leader leaves?

Eagle Brook tries not to fall into that trap. Merritt, who now travels the country advising churches and pastors, never wanted to make church about himself. Strand too is known for humility. The church doesn't announce ahead of time who's preaching. Strand still drives an old Toyota Sienna minivan. He's focused on Eagle Brook, not on his national profile.

"People often say, 'Who is your senior pastor?' They can't tell, and that's exactly what we want," said John Alexander, the church's executive director of creative arts. "We resist as much as possible the potential for celebrity."

'There for a reason'

The Lino Lakes lobby began to fill a half-hour before services. Parents checked in kids: Kid-O-Deo for kindergarteners and younger, Elevate for elementary-aged kids, replete with popcorn machines, a climbing wall and Minecraft on PlayStation 4s. When the kids' service began, about 60 elementary-aged kids watched an Eagle Brook-produced skit on talking to God when you're afraid. They scribbled down their fears then tore up the papers and gave them to God.

A two-hour drive north, the new Baxter location also filled with young families. Dawn Wicklund, the female pastor, stood unassuming in a flannel shirt, skinny jeans and Nikes. Her Eagle Brook story is like many other congregants'. Thirteen years ago, Wicklund was at rock bottom. She'd married her high school sweetheart at 19 when she was five months pregnant. On her first Mother's Day as a mom, Wicklund's 17-year-old brother — her closest friend — was killed by a drunken driver. At 25, when she was an overwhelmed mother of three, her dad died of cancer.

That Easter, someone invited her to Eagle Brook Church. She went hesitantly. She'd grown up Christian, but life's tumult made her angry at God. She wept through the service.

"It just wrecked me," she said. "… From the moment I sat down, it was just like I knew that Jesus was there, present, and had me there for a reason."

Congregants have similar stories. Brian Horn lives a two-hour drive from the Lino Lakes campus, on a cattle ranch near Pillager, but he wakes up at 4 a.m. Sundays to drive here for church. He started coming six years ago in search of a new, exciting church experience.

"The first day I walked through the doors, I just knew this was the church for me," he said. "Everything made me feel comfortable and known and welcomed."

The new church in Baxter is also attracting older congregants. Linda Schmidt, 90, had driven her Tesla from her home just around the corner. Schmidt used to attend the church that previously occupied the space.

"All the days I went here — I mean, several years — just never had this big crowd," Schmidt said. It was the third Sunday of services there.

A 'bull's-eye' approach

Eagle Brook leaders take pride in standing for foundational Christian beliefs without wading into political waters. Leaders say the church is filled with Republicans, Democrats and everything in between. Staying above the political fray can be difficult in an America where everything seems politicized. Denominations have split in recent decades over homosexuality. Other hot-button topics, from women in ministry to abortion to shifting views on gender, increase tension.

Eagle Brook leaders preach about a bull's-eye approach. At the center are core Christian, "die-for" beliefs. The middle ring is how Eagle Brook practices Christianityand the outer ring, leaders say, is more ambiguous, things for Christians to discuss but not core to salvation.

"Where churches can get themselves into trouble is where you turn a 'discuss' issue into a 'die-for' issue," said Andrew Hermann, one of the church's three regional directors. On divisive social issues, preachers thread a needle, saying this is their interpretation of the Scripture but that they don't have a monopoly on truth.

Expanding Christianity is central to Eagle Brook's DNA, and that can mean the church feels like a business: slick marketing materials, Eagle Brook-branded Stanley mugs and electronic kiosks for donations. The church does not apologize for that.

"This isn't about us getting bigger," said John Eiselt, associate campus pastor at the Lino Lakes campus. "This is about the Church getting bigger — the 'big C' church. It's never about how many buildings can we put an Eagle Brook sign on. It's about how can we be a part of taking the gospel to the ends of the earth."

Staff writers Kim Hyatt reported from Baxter and Trey Mewes from Rochester.