Highway to bethel Church started rolling out spiritual services to bikers back in the ‘80s By: John Longhurst Posted: 3:00 AM CST Monday, Nov. 24, 2025

Surprisingly, it’s not the black leather biker vest that you first notice when the pastor strolls to the front of the sanctuary.

No, it’s the pulpit fashioned out of the front forks of a motorcycle that suggests this church service will be a little different.

Pastor Paul Winter leans into his message, revving up the congregants about ensuring their life’s tank is always full with spiritual gas.

If, according to scripture, the Road to Damascus is where Saul became a follower of Jesus centuries ago, then today, it can also be travelled by these men and women, many sporting biker colours, on a similar journey.

That’s the idea behind the House of the Risen Son in Winnipeg — a church for those who don’t feel they fit into traditional worship settings.

Known as the “biker church,” it was founded in 1989 by Chuck Sheridan, a preacher who now lives in Mexico.

“It’s for people who don’t fit into a normal Sunday morning scene,” said Ron Gross, who wears his Bondslaves Motorcycle Club vest — a symbol of club identity that is associated with the church — to services.

The goal of the club is to enjoy riding and share about Jesus — whether to outlaw bikers or law-abiding motorcyclists. There are more than 20 members in two chapters in the city.

On a recent Sunday evening, about 45 people gathered at Soul Sanctuary on Chevrier Boulevard, where the church rents space for its services. Men made up about three-quarters of the group; some, including Gross, wore patched vests, or “cuts” declaring their membership in Bondslaves.

The service began with opening prayer, followed by songs led by a four-member band.

“We’re a bit rock ’n’ roll here,” Gross said.

That was followed by announcements, prayer requests and praise items. After that, the sermon was energetically delivered by Winter, who also pastors at Living Word Temple, a Mennonite Brethren congregation in the North End.

Winter, who is also a biker and a member of Bondslaves, sees the church as a place where everyone can be themselves.

“I’ve always felt drawn to those who are on the fringes, people who don’t fit into regular churches,” he said, adding his goal is to help them find Jesus.

In addition to the weekly services, the church supports a food bank and runs a program that provides housing and support for people recovering from addictions. Currently, there are 10 people living in three houses.

“When I preach, I know who I am talking to,” he said. “These are people who have overcome a lot of things.”

In Sunday night’s sermon, which was based on the New Testament book of First Peter, Winter reminded the congregation they are children of God, having been given a new identity and purpose in life through Christ, no matter what they had done or were like before.

He emphasized the church’s motto in his preaching: KSU. In biker parlance, it stands for Kick Stands Up, or get ready to ride with a full tank of gas. For members, it also means Known to Christ, Saved and Unconditionally loved by Jesus.

“And where do you get that full tank of spiritual gas? By coming to church,” he said emphatically to a chorus of “amens.”

Outside of services, church members are encouraged to wear their vests and talk to and pray with people on the street and at car shows. While they don’t necessarily witness proactively to bikers, the hope is that their colours and machines lead to deeper conversations.

“Just wearing our cuts opens conversations,” Winter said, sharing about the times when people stopped them to learn more about their background and then asked for help or prayer.

There have been misunderstandings. People sometimes mistake Bondslaves for an outlaw motorcycle club. That happened recently at a local car show, when an off-duty Winnipeg police officer ordered Gross to remove his vest, believing it represented a criminal organization.

“He told me I had to take it off or leave,” Gross said. “When I asked why, he said all three-piece patch guys are the same.”

Gross explained that Bondslaves is a Christian ministry and that the “Bondslaves” at the top of the patch, called a “rocker,” is a reference to being slaves to Jesus. The middle patch, a cross with a broken chain, is about how Jesus died to offer salvation and frees Christians from bondage to the world.

The bottom rocker says, “Jesus Is Lord.”

The police officer didn’t buy it. Instead of arguing and making a scene, Gross left the show.

Gross said he was hurt by the false accusation.

“We take our faith seriously,” he said. “We’re the real deal.”

Misperceptions like that are not uncommon, said Wayne Schellenberg, president of the church and a member of Bondslaves.

Many people see all motorcycle clubs as gangs, but it’s not true.

“We’re not a gang. We’re a club of brothers who ride together and serve together,” he said.

Bondslaves has built good relationships with other clubs in the province and is a member of the Coalition of Manitoba Motorcycle Groups, Schellenberg said, adding other clubs sometimes ask them to serve at funerals or officiate at weddings. They also make sure to visit members of other clubs when they are sick and in the hospital.

“We’re all about ministry,” Schellenberg, who grew up in a Mennonite Brethren church in Winkler, said. “Our goal is to witness and share God’s love.”

He told the story of a Hells Angels member in the U.S. who, after accepting Jesus, spoke at an American church and asked why nobody had come to tell him about Jesus.

“We do that,” Schellenberg said. “We love Jesus, we love to ride, and we want people like him to know they’re not alone.”

It can also be a challenge when relating to other churches in Winnipeg. That became evident this year, when the House of the Risen Son needed to find an alternative place to meet.

“We had a hard time finding another church to rent to us,” Winter said. “There’s a lot of false information out there about us. But Soul Sanctuary welcomed us in.”

Gerry Michalski is lead pastor at Soul Sanctuary, a non-denominational evangelical church. When the biker church came calling, there was no hesitation.

“They are reaching out to a part of the population that is often ignored by other churches,” he said. “Our building is a place that we want to use to be open to the community.”

Michalski said he understands the biker church’s unique mission and role.

“They offer a place where, when people come in, they see people who look like them,” he said.

One of those people is Lyle Nott.

“It’s a good community,” Nott said, adding there’s “always good teaching, too.”

Nott said he sees the club, and motorcycles, as a bridge to conversations about Jesus.

Jamie Reimer, who was among the minority of women in Sunday’s congregation, said she likes the music, the service’s interactive style and that the members are friendly and welcoming. Though not a motorcycle rider herself, her father was.

“Coming here helps me feel connected to him,” she said.

Martha Wicha has been attending the church for about 20 years because she feels welcomed.

“People here are very accepting,” she said. “You don’t have to dress up or be a certain way.”

She was deeply touched by how church members reached out to her when her sister died and when her husband was ill.

“We’re all just real people here; all of us are needy,” she said.

Comments such as that underscore the purpose of the House of the Risen Son Church.

“We are a place for the overlooked,” Winter said, adding it’s a church for people who have felt hurt, rejected or dismissed by other churches or who just can’t feel like they fit in anywhere else.

“That’s who Jesus came for.”

faith@freepress.mb.ca

The Free Press is committed to covering faith in Manitoba. If you appreciate that coverage, help us do more! Your contribution of $10, $25 or more will allow us to deepen our reporting about faith in the province. Thanks! BECOME A FAITH JOURNALISM SUPPORTER