America/Denis Staunton: In a huge, converted DIY store on the outskirts of St Paul, Minnesota, Woodland Hills church looks like any one of dozens of megachurches around the Twin Cities.
Pastor Greg Boyd faces many challenges but lack of space is not among them, at least since he lost 20 per cent of his 5,000-strong flock two years ago.
The mass walk-out followed a series of sermons called The Cross and the Sword, which Boyd gave just before the 2004 presidential election, arguing that the church should stay out of politics, shut up about sex and stop describing America as a Christian nation.
"America has never been a Christian nation in the sense of being Christ-like. America has never turned the other cheek or blessed its enemies. I don't think you can have a Christian nation any more than you can have a Christian bicycle," he says.
Dressed casually in a black sweater and jeans, Boyd looks more like a youngish, liberal intellectual than a Baptist pastor but he insists that he is not a political liberal.
He was inspired to preach against church involvement in politics after members of his congregation pressed him to speak out against gays and abortion and to tacitly support President George Bush.
"It really is damaging to the church to let politics define what we stand for. Our view of the Kingdom is that it is above these categories. The Kingdom of God is not defined politically," he says.
About 1,000 people left Woodland Hills after Boyd rejected politics but he says that many of those who left were already unhappy with his style.
One woman, for example, had already complained angrily when he preached about the Christian obligation to love one's enemies.
"She said: 'If you don't stop this politicised George Bush-bashing hate speech, I'm going to leave this church,'" he recalls. "I haven't had one person trying to do that in the last two years. It clarified what this local body is about."
Evangelical Christians have been a key component in the Republican coalition in recent years, highly organised, motivated campaigners who could be relied upon to boost the party's support in each election. Boyd believes, however, that many Christians are now disillusioned with politics and feel exploited by the Republican leadership.
"It's a little bit of an uphill battle right now but there's an increasing number of pastors who are thinking this way," he says.
Most of Boyd's flock come from middle- or lower-income backgrounds and are less preoccupied with sexual morality than some Christians.
Boyd tells them that abortion, homosexuality and extra-marital sex are against Christian teaching but he makes no suggestions about what the state should do about it.
"Jesus never tried to legislate behaviour, not once. What Jesus did was he saw a need and met it. The call of the gospel is very simple - just do what Jesus did," he says.
Boyd maintains that many pastors who think like him remain silent for fear of losing worshippers in the highly competitive marketplace of American religion. There are signs, however, that conservative evangelicals are losing ground in America, particularly among the young.
The National Association of Evangelicals recently deplored "the epidemic of young people leaving the evangelical church", which one study claims could leave just 4 per cent of today's teenagers remaining evangelical into adulthood.
Evangelical leaders are taking the threat seriously enough to launch almost four dozen meetings throughout the US this autumn aimed at keeping teenagers in the church and featuring star preachers such as Rev Jerry Falwell.
Boyd says that some disenchanted evangelicals are now coming to Woodland Hills but although he has the space to double his congregation, he says the only kind of growth he's thinking about is spiritual.
"We tend to get more people coming who are sick of the politicisation of the faith. But there are a lot of things that affect church growth - how good your childcare is, whether people like the music or not. What I'm called to do is not to build a big church," he says.