People came from across the world to attend the Abundant Life Centre on Sunday. Marianne Sumner, Religious Affairs Reporter, went along to an ordinary Sunday service to see what makes this fast-growing church so popular

A sad fact about the British is that we can't stomach success.

Given a choice, we always back the underdog - just so long as they have the decency to win just the once.

So we can't help feeling suspicious about the Abundant Life Church where the congregation raised £600,000 in just two hours to fund an extension.

One woman sold her wedding ring and that of her late husband's for the cause.

Others pledged more than £10,000 over the three-year programme.

Coming from an Anglican background, this is so very foreign to the scrabbling around for loose change when the vicar mentions the collection.

I went along to a Sunday service to see for myself what is so attractive about the church which from the outside looks more like a huge warehouse.

The irreverent thump of a bass drum was audible as I parked the car.

Inside the premises on Wapping Road, a casual seating area overlooks a breath-taking view of Bradford.

I was greeted by about five different people at the door and even warmly embraced by one woman who, I like to think, mistook me for someone else.

The main hall, which holds more than 700, was almost full. Bracing myself for cringe factor ten, I went in.

Jasper Carrott once made a dig at the stereotyped staid Christian "looking crap for Jesus".

A quick glance around the hall revealed nothing could be further from the truth about this lot.

Red nail varnish, swish-looking scarves, make-up. Colour. And people of every age. White hair was in the minority.

There were teenagers - lads and girls alongside grown men and mum with babies. Loads in their twenties and thirties were there chatting as they took their places.

The band and four-piece choir, all probably under the age of 25, started up on stage and the sound was loud and professional.

Leading the singing was Lara Mudd who had the whole lot clapping and joining in the words projected onto the sloping ceiling above her.

Cold fish that I am, I permitted my foot to tap in time with the music as they raised their hands in the air in praise.

"I love you Jesus," the man was starting to say behind me.

"Let's give applause to the Lord," said Lara.

Unused as I am to this public display, it was not as oppressive as I had dreaded. In fact, I was sorry when the music stopped.

Pastor Paul Scanlon, a Dewsbury man although his accent doesn't give him away, began his "sermon".

"Some of us are trying to love God on the cheap," he said, but he wasn't talking about money. He said people in this country are reserved - a trait which is contrary to many feelings shown in the Bible.

"It's OK if you go to church and there isn't much expression. So many churches are like that. It's safe. No one's going to clap and raise their hands or spin around or do backward rolls...here we encourage freedom of expression."

The talk had the whole crowd laughing and me along with them - although I was developing something of a complex.

Then after quoting from various Bible passages, Paul summed up: "When you become a Christian you are not supposed to have a personality bypass. You meet some and they have no character, no spark, no passion, nothing, and yet we are the ones who are supposed to be saved and have the answers.

"When you meet some people you would not think it. What's going on?"

Mr Scanlon added: "People used to form a mould for me and expect me to lie in it. It's not about coming to Jesus to become wooden clones or robots. I know what drew me to this church - life, reality. That you can be a Christian and still have a blast!"

This wasn't fire and brimstone - more like stand-up comedy.

After the service, I had the chance to speak to some of the people there. Jodee Roff, 23, a former Bradford University student now a schoolteacher, spoke about the amazing collection of some weeks back.

"When I was younger I would never have thought I would give this much but I love it so much, I want other people to feel the same."

She added: "The people here are so full of love in their actions. It's not just words."

Fourteen-year-old Vanessa Chapman, who was baptised three weeks ago, said she is subject to some jibes at school. "They call me a Bible-basher or something but I just ignore them. They think it must be really traditional and I try to explain but it's hard to get through."

Another worshipper Alan Brooks, 61, is a vending machine service engineer with a family and four grandchildren. He left the Church of England where he had found God to join the ALC.

"I was churchwarden there and I was with the house group and in everything that was going on. It was excellent in its way but it wasn't enough. I felt there was more to Christian life. I wanted to be living the life rather than just attending services."

Mr Brooks said: "The size of the congregation I found extremely exciting, really, because people seemed to be alive and enjoying themselves. I was brought up all my life in the traditional church but I found tradition was coming in place of involvement."

When I next looked at the clock, it was 1pm. Yet no one was in a rush to leave.

They spoke with local accents and yet they did not assume West Yorkshire's rather conservative attitude.

They had rejected the nation's love of sneering and greeted the new age of Cool Britannia inside the church.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.