This Ain't No Disco

Saturday night, Penn Social is your typical DC dive filled with conservative 20-somethings. Come Sunday morning, it's still a hot spot-but by the name of King's Church, reports TARA PALMERI, where the same cool kids congregate, professing their faith in Jesus and in Donald Trump

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Trays of shots sit waiting on the bar. Behind them, the mini fridges of Red Bull hum softly, and a row of beer taps, dormant for now. In less than an hour, those taps will be flowing again. But for the moment, they frame a congregation of 700 20-somethings, many of them White House and Capitol aides, think tank staffers, bureaucrats, and interns, standing shoulder to shoulder with their hands raised toward the disco lights as if beseeching them for guidance.

The shots aren't tequila. They are the blood of Christ, passed around on silver trays and swallowed in unison, the world's most pious drinking game. Onstage, musicians scroll through New Age worship lyrics on iPhones propped on tripods, where hymnals once might have been. The effect is half revival, half silent disco.

This ain't no disco. It's King's Church, one of Washington's fastest growing evangelical congregations, holding Sunday service inside Penn Social, the downtown bar better known for its Tuesday beer pong tournaments and congressional mixers. Just a few blocks from the White House, King's Church has become a magnet for ambitious young conservatives: people who spend their weekdays drafting talking points, staffing hearings, and chasing proximity to power. It's a place where faith feels more like a networking event than a ritual, the kind of juxtaposition only Washington could pull off: communion by shot glass, salvation with a side of brunch.

“MY KIND OF PEOPLE”

During the sermon, cofounder and pastor Wesley Welch, 34, tells a story about unused gift cards as a metaphor for Christians failing to cash in their spiritual balance, quoting a Pew Research poll on prayer like a campaign briefing. This is Washington; even God can use better data.