Saving souls and riding bikes. That’s the idea behind the Biker Cell Church, a leather-clad, bandanna-wearing evangelical outfit based in Somersworth. Led by Douglas Carlson, known to his flock as Pastor Shoe, the church preaches throughout the Seacoast during the summer and, when not on the road, operates a modest community center and thrift store.

The church makes its home in the Main Street Mission, a worn-down storefront on Main Street. The Biker Cell took up residence there two years ago; before that, Carlson says, the congregation would meet in members’ homes. Bikers have always been involved in Carlson’s ministry. Before forming the Biker Cell Church, Carlson’s congregation belonged to the Berwick chapter of the Christian Motorcycle Association. 
“This is not something we sat down and brainstormed … this is what we do,” he says.

Carlson looks like an unlikely evangelist. Clad in camouflage pants, a leather vest and flannel shirt, the bespectacled Carlson sports a bushy goatee and carries himself with a demeanor that’s at once intense and relaxed. He isn’t shy about discussing his faith or evangelizing, and he likes to preach in public. The Biker Cell Church’s next public event will find church members carrying a cross through downtown Somersworth to the Ten Commandments memorial near City Hall on Friday, Dec. 23 at 1 p.m.

The Biker Cell Church also spreads its message subtly. Small stickers sporting the church’s green logo can be seen on lampposts in Portsmouth and convenience stores in Dover, among other places. The church also maintains a Web site, www.bikercell.com, which chronicles the congregation’s travels to Motorcycle Week in Laconia and features pictures of members’ bikes. About a dozen people show up at the mission each Sunday to worship. The area where services are held is partitioned off from the thrift store by couches and curtains. On the wall to the left is “the armor of God,” a leather vest, boots, a belt, a sword, a Viking helmet and a shield with the church’s emblem on it. There’s a small shrine in the center of the room, set into the brick wall, and to the left is a large wooden cross.

Having a ministry of bikers is right in line with Christian teachings, Carlson says. Jesus welcomed prostitutes, tax collectors, the poor and other people considered “unclean” at the time. When he began preaching, Carlson wanted to reach out to similar “unclean” subcultures that aren’t normally the target of churches.

He mentions the former Loudpipes Saloon, a biker bar that was located across the street from the Main Street Mission. The bar sponsored a Toys for Tots motorcycle run every winter. “If you say ‘biker bar’ to the average person, they might not think of helping children have a good Christmas,” Carlson says. 
When the weather is nice, members of the church travel throughout the region and preach outdoors. They made an appearance in Market Square last summer and regularly go to biker events around the region. The church is usually “received with open arms” at events, though Carlson occasionally runs into people who don’t like the church’s teachings.

On Mondays, the mission offers free food and clothes to those in need. On other days, everything sells for between $1 and $2. This helps people who don’t necessarily want a handout, but still need help. It also helps pay for some of the mission’s costs, like utilities. But they seem to keep those costs down anyway—during a recent visit, the lights were low and a small space heater kept the room slightly above freezing, although there was a pot of hot coffee at the ready. Members of the church volunteer to run the thrift store, and now more people are coming in who aren’t bikers but are interested in helping the poor. Carlson hopes this will help the mission expand so that he can devote more time to preaching instead of managing the store.

Carlson calls himself Shoe because God revealed the name to him in a prayer. That name was “confirmed” by another brother in the church a few days later when he received a new pair of shoes in the mail, Carlson explains.

Carlson is just as passionate about motorcycles as he is about preaching, although he is quick to point out that the church takes precedence. Now 39, Carlson has been riding for 18 years. His love affair with bikes started when he was child. Too young for an actual motorcycle, he spent his time converting bicycles into chopper facsimiles. While in high school, a friend purchased a Kawasaki Vulcan and taught Carlson how to ride. From then on, he was hooked.

It was around this time that he “rededicated his life to Christ,” as he describes it. Leaving the Christian environment he grew up in for a more secular high school had led him down the wrong path and caused him to lose his moral compass, he says. But after receiving a red-covered Bible from the Gideons, Carlson found his way again. He still has that Bible, although “If I kept carrying it, it would disintegrate,” he says.

A few blocks away from the mission, Carlson keeps his four bikes stowed in a snow-covered parking lot. He describes himself as a “motorcyclist,” because he prefers foreign-made bikes rather than Harleys. Stickers with slogans like “Jesus rides a Harley” adorn the bikes, all of which are still covered in snow from a storm two weeks past. Carlson says he’s been driving his car a lot more lately because of the weather, but plans to get one of his bikes back on the road soon.

“Driving my car is almost like watching TV,” he says. “It’s like being trapped in a box.”

Inside the mission, Keith Sawyer, better known as “Brain,” sits nearby, reading a raggedy Robert Ludlum paperback. “Riding a bike, you’re more in tune with what you’re doing,” Sawyer says.

When asked how motorcycles and Christianity connect, Carlson carefully considers his answer. As Carlson explains, it’s all about traveling the open road and reaching out to people, something many modern churches have lost. On a bike, a person can connect with their surroundings, sense changes in temperature and feel the rain slam into them. But it may be simpler than that—Sawyer quips, “The faster you go, the more faith you have.”