James Attlee travelled to St Thomas's Church, Sheffield to experience the alternative worship event NOS.

Nine O Clock Service: We go to Sheffield to investigate the ground breaking NOS event

For Greenbelters, St Thomas's church Sheffield, are the people who have brought a revolutionary element to the worship tent with their multi-screen videos, back projections and the Acid House beat. For growth analysts St Thomas's is the church to watch, as their numbers have grown from 150 in the early 60s to a multi-congregation 1000-plus today. And to more cautious conservative onlookers, St Thomas's represents the church as fashion-victim, selling out to the latest worldly trends. What James Attlee found on his visit was a fascinating blend of the hi-tech and the traditional, bringing liturgical worship lurching into the 21st century.

God's Acid House!' the headlines have screamed. 'New Age Deception,' others have warned. National newspapers and radio journalists have been falling over themselves to attend the NOS (Nine O Clock Service) held twice a month at St Thomas's Church, Crookes, in a quiet residential area of Sheffield. A recent interviewee on a Radio 4 programme described the service as "the best dance night out in Sheffield". Yet members of the joint Anglican and Baptist church are anxious to point out that the NOS service is only a small part of the ministry of St Thomas's. Behind the headlines is a church that has experienced remarkable growth and change alongside visitations of God's power.

It's 8.30 on a Sunday evening and what one would normally expect to be the deserted back streets of Crookes are thronging with people, as one congregation leaves and another gathers. Tonight is not one of the famous 'NOS' services, but is billed as Communion (ASB) in the church's newssheet, 'Family Life'. What I am particularly interested in is seeing how the new forms of worship the church is experimenting with will sit alongside the traditional elements of the liturgy.

Once inside, the reception area and coffee bar of the church's extension building are already packed with a predominantly young crowd. Many are watching, fascinated, through the glass panelled doors as the worship team prepare the church itself for the service. Apparent chaos reigns as about 20 people mill about - in fact, with remarkable speed, the neutral, modern interior of the church building is being transformed. Four video monitors are installed, and two large screens are hung from the ceiling. In the centre of the room a large altar is adorned with several homemade crosses. Dozens of candles on the altar and around the room give a timeless atmosphere as the main lights go down. A girl is struggling to light some incense; eventually it takes, and smoke plumes upward, changing colour from blue to purple in the projector beams. The videos begin to show a sequence of a cornfield and speakers emit a synthesized wash of sound. The doors open and we enter. There are no pews, benches or chairs; three or four hundred of us file in, and a message on the screens requests us to "please be quiet and pray". The atmosphere is simultaneously one of expectancy and peace. Above the aural backdrop of synthesised music a voice sings a chant - The Sanctus - in Latin. A simultaneous translation appears on the screens. Seated on the floor and looking back at the rows of candlelit faces opposite, I'm struck by how the preparations have created a space that is "out of time"; despite the electronic technology, the gathering feels as if it could be taking place at any period in Church history. The catacombs, perhaps?

The background music drops a little and Steve Williams, a young curate with a hand held microphone, tells us that we should, at the outset of our worship together, acknowledge Jesus and welcome His presence. The appropriate part of the ASB liturgy appears from time to time projected onto the screens and forms a framework for the direction of the service, while the simultaneous prayers of the clergy taking part are in their own words. A team of singers lead the congregation in singing a chant in English, again over a synthesized backing. "Bless The Lord My Soul, Bless His Holy Name. Bless The Lord My Soul, He Rescues Me From Death." There's little pressure to participate actively - the atmosphere is meditative. Steve tells us that this is our last chance to get right with God before taking communion and urges us to open ourselves up to the Holy Spirit. A time is left for personal prayer accompanied by the ubiquitous synthesizers, and then Canon Robert Warren speaks the prayers of consecration. This, which is traditionally the quietest most reverential part of the communion service, is accompanied by the loudest and most rhythmic music, and the altar is bathed in coloured lights. It's an old rock music producer's trick - putting the vocals back in the mix can have the effect of making you more attentive to the lyrics. Familiar words, spoken in quietness, can soon become over familiar and lose all impact. These words that the listener has to struggle to wrest from their musical surroundings are charged with the intensity of a personal discovery. For those with ears untrained in the rock idiom, the liturgy appears simultaneously on the overhead screen. We are then asked to pray that God will come in power by His Holy Spirit on the bread and wine. We are invited to 'receive by faith this taster of the full kingdom of heaven', and in no particular order members of the congregation file up and kneel in two' s at the various points around the central altar where other members of the congregation administer a wafer dipped in wine.

After Communion, there is a brief but powerful message from Romans chapter eight, part of a series brought by Robert Warren. Throughout the worship area are small stacks of hardback NIV Bibles in plastic covers; as everyone is using a uniform edition a page reference is given, followed by the NIV heading for the section we are about to study, rather than the more usual chapter and verse. This strikes me as a much better approach for those attending the service who are not familiar with the Bible, making it appear a far more user-friendly book than with the announcement of a strange jumble of numbers. After a concluding prayer some stand, while others prefer to remain seated for a while, still absorbed and reflective. Towards the door the growing crowd of those leaving becomes animated as people meet and greet one another laughing and joking. Some, obviously first-time visitors, are discussing the service. Many head for the coffee bar, or sit outside on the wall chatting.

So what is my response to all this? To try and capture something as elusive as the atmosphere of a church worshipping is obviously very difficult. I came to St Thomas's expectant, as most of the congregation seemed to do. Expectancy seems to me to be one of the chief elements that can be missing from local church worship. I was deeply impressed with the variety of sources from which the worship team have drawn in seeking to glorify God.

Much of my experience of Christian worship as a believer has been in the evangelical, charismatic non-conformist wing of the church. From time to time it has struck me - particularly when celebrating Communion - that in our desire to move away from the sacramental and traditional in our worship, we have often ended up with an experience that lacks a sense of awe, and of the 'bigness' of God. In our determination to avoid idolatry, we have ended up with a church that is aesthetically poverty stricken. In our efforts to be free from any of the cultural trappings of worship associated in our minds with the pre-Reformation church, our 'freedom' shuts off as many avenues for worship as it opens up. It's as if black people refused to recognise The Blues because it was born out of slavery.

Yet here in this Anglican/ Baptist church we have a worship service drawing on many traditions: the liturgy of the Anglicans, the candles, incense and Latin chants of the Catholics, the extempore prayers of the Non-Conformists and the direct experience of God The Holy Spirit of the Pentecostals and Charismatics - all combined with elements of avant-garde art and rock culture. Perhaps a clue to this openness lies in the history of the church itself, and its ecumenical nature. In writing of the long theological discussions that took place before St Thomas's and Crookes Baptist church merged to become one 'Church Family', Canon Robert Warren stated: "Time and time again we saw that what the other church was saying was not in conflict with what we believed but rather an enriching balance and complement to what we held to be important.

We ended up wondering how our two churches had fallen out...it felt as if we were putting together two halves of a valuable, but fragile work of art that had somehow been tragically broken." ('In The Crucible', Robert Warren, Highland Books.)

Could the way towards a more complete form of worship of God lie in reconciliation between Christians themselves? CR

The opinions expressed in this article are not necessarily those held by Cross Rhythms. Any expressed views were accurate at the time of publishing but may or may not reflect the views of the individuals concerned at a later date.