‘Let’s do something really cool for God,’ urges Pastor Jason Cask as he takes to the stage in the unlikely setting of an industrial estate in a rundown and deprived area of Scotland’s biggest city
‘Let’s do something really cool for God,’ urges Pastor Jason Cask as he takes to the stage in the unlikely setting of an industrial estate in a rundown and deprived area of Scotland’s biggest city.
Wearing a trendy jacket and a radio mic, the founder of the C7 church calls on his congregation to dig deep and donate.
Behind him, a screen shows ways to pay as he booms out the options: ‘You can give by credit card or debit card or cash, you can write out cheques…’
For the 200-or-so young people at the service – some cheering at his every word – there can be no doubt: the Lord’s work will be done only when you fund it. The Scottish Mail on Sunday attended a C7 service last week run by the charismatic pastor, who proudly boasts that he is ‘on fire for God’.
Yet for all the fervour the church, which raised nearly £1 million in a single year, is facing claims it uses religion to pressure volunteers.
Angry former members have complained about the way the church is run – and warned others to stay away. They claim the pastor asked churchgoers to clean and paint his house – and hand over 10 per cent of their income.
Several former congregants say they were ‘brainwashed’ and ‘exploited’ by a church that is run ‘like a cult’, at odds with the church’s aim of advancing the Christian faith and relieving poverty and hardship.
One said: ‘I felt like he had access to the destiny of my soul.’ C7 was set up Jason Cask, 46, in 2006. He was involved in the Hillsong Church in his native Australia before moving to Scotland with his wife, Jodi, after he had a prophetic dream about a crowd in an arena chanting the words: ‘Glasgow! Glasgow!’
His church is based in a marquee set up inside an industrial unit in Possilpark, a deprived area of north Glasgow.
The services – usually three on a Sunday – feature a live Christian rock band, with professional stage lighting and big-screen displays. C7 also runs prayer groups, a food bank and leadership training. Members are asked to donate 10 per cent of their income – also known as a tithe – plus the church has annual ‘Heart for the House’ and Kingdom Builders’ fundraisers.
A registered charity, C7’s accounts show that in 2015/16, it had a total income of £950,000, mostly from donations.
In 2016, Mr Cask took a wage of £38,100. Lucie Summers, 27, a dance instructor in Aberdeen, joined C7 in 2010 while at university
In 2016, Mr Cask took a wage of £38,100. Lucie Summers, 27, a dance instructor in Aberdeen, joined C7 in 2010 while at university. She said: ‘It was all very contemporary and appealing. Everyone was so friendly. I was shy and being in C7 made me more confident.’
After she graduated, she started volunteering with the church for 40 hours a week, saying: ‘It was more like a job. I lost interest in my subject, dance.
‘Whenever I went home to visit my family [in Aberdeenshire], I was always encouraged to get back… I wanted to please Jason so eagerly – I didn’t want to seem like I didn’t love God enough.’
She added: ‘I was so oblivious, prancing around like, “you guys [her family] don’t understand, you don’t have the kingdom culture, you don’t understand that I’m doing, I’m made of a different thing from you”. Horrific.’
Even while working for free, Ms Summers handed over 10 per cent of her income. She said: ‘I calculated it on the pocket money my mum gave me. I gave about £40 a month. For the Heart for the House yearly offering I gave a month’s rent but again it wasn’t my money, it was my mum’s.’
She resolved to leave C7 several times but ‘if you left, you were walking away from the God call in your life’.
She finally quit in 2014 after her family confronted her. She said: ‘Finally, I could see and hear things clearly. I remember my dad cradling me in his arms as I hysterically cried for hours.’
Another young person, who left in November of last year, said: ‘Lucie’s story is very similar to mine. I had to get counselling for six months after I left. He had us all painting, decorating, cleaning his new house.
‘I’ve cleaned his bathroom – they convince you that you are respecting and honouring your pastor by doing these things.’
A pastor who left in May of this year said: ‘If you went along tomorrow you would find genuine, lovely people. Those on the periphery can just be there and have a Christian life. But the closer you are to Jason, the more you realise something isn’t right.’
She added: ‘People are terrified to leave. When you are being told by someone who you have listened to for a long time that you would be throwing away something you have worked towards, you do question, “Is this the right thing to do?”.’
Singer Emma Cowie , 31, from Renfrew, also joined the church when she was a student and was a member for five years
Singer Emma Cowie, 31, from Renfrew, also joined the church when she was a student and was a member for five years.
She said it is called C7 ‘because church is meant to be in your life seven days a week’, adding: ‘Jason put big ideas in my head. It was so intoxicating, it would be so easy for a young person to fall for it. I was just like a little optimistic puppy, running in there going, “Love me”.
‘I felt like he had access to the destiny of my soul, like he had a red telephone to God. I was soon working for free 60, 70 hours a week.’
She added: ‘I went to him as my pastor with some really private information about my relationship.
But he told my boyfriend what I’d said. I was so hurt. That was when my C7 bubble well and truly burst.
‘I felt shunned. A few of us have banded together since leaving because that place is so intense nobody else can understand. I want to warn others.’
Sobbing, she said: ‘I’m still not over it emotionally.’
On Friday, MoS found Mr Cask setting up a Christmas show at the church. When asked to discuss the claims of the former members, he said: ‘I don’t think we’re running it like a cult. We fundamentally believe in the Christian faith. We don’t exploit people. We give people plenty of freedom to choose what they want to do. We don’t have high expectations in terms of hours and volunteering.
‘We’re not controlling, we don’t control people’s lives. If people want to leave, we give them the free choice to leave.’
Mr Cask admitted he had asked volunteers to clean his house, saying it had been done as an exercise in ‘servanthood’.
He said: ‘Someone wanted to learn and be around me a little more, and I was teaching them how to serve.
It was as simple as, “Hey, why don’t you come and help me out in my home?”. Sometimes I teach servanthood.
There’s no expectation that I expect people to do that. Servanthood is serving – I’m serving the church, I serve them. It’s about me helping them to move their lives forward. All humanity needs to learn the art of serving to move their lives forward.’
Asked about requesting tithes, Mr Cask said: ‘That’s not me, that’s a Bible teaching. They don’t have to do it. I teach people that generosity moves your life forward and would encourage any person that generosity opens up opportunity for you.
‘There are loads of people in church, I’m the servant leader. ‘We are changing people’s lives, bottom line.’