Church opened on a Sunday morning in October with a Buffalo Springfield song.
Glenn Parrish stood up and strummed a guitar; its finish was worn where he rests his elbow when he talks between songs.
He danced, bending his lanky legs as he launched into the first lines.
"There's something happening here.
What it is ain't exactly clear."
About 15 people sat around him in a circle of slouchy chairs and wide couches.
Some clapped and sang. Others sat and listened. A large white dog slept on the concrete floor.
The man in charge of the service was inconspicuous in a pair of shorts and laceless Converse sneakers.
He leaned back and wore a broad smile and graying beard as he tapped along to the beat.
Keith Page doesn't often call himself a pastor anymore, but he's quick to call forth the name of Jesus and frequently talks about his "ministry."