Yesterday, I stopped by Mardel’s, the massive Christian bookstore owned by Hobby Lobby. I asked a nice lady if they carried any books on church security, and she just stared at me blankly before saying they had none. No problem—I’m writing one myself, but I wanted to see what else was out there. A quick check on Amazon revealed a few lackluster books with around 80 reviews—none with the kind of inspiring covers you’d expect from Christian books.
That brings me to this: I’m coauthoring a book on church security with my longtime friend Luke Blaser. Luke was my field training officer when I was a 19-year-old MP at Aberdeen Proving Ground, Maryland, with the 523rd Military Police Company. He later became the best man at my wedding when I married Lisa 31 years ago. I went on to serve with the City of Aberdeen Police Department, while Luke joined the East Moline, Illinois, Police Department. Now, both of us are retired—me in Fort Worth, Texas, and him in Palm Coast, Florida, where he runs Whiskey Six Tactical.
We’re both bikers, lifelong students of traditional Japanese Jujitsu, and best friends. For seven years, I was the head of security at Freedom Biker Church, and for a few years less, Luke has led his church’s security team. We both built these teams from scratch. Like Luke says, “You go to war with the army you have, not the one you want.”
At Freedom, my team consisted of bikers—mostly in recovery—handpicked for the job. Some were convicted felons who couldn’t legally carry a firearm, but they had the right mindset. Luke, on the other hand, was surrounded by well-intentioned older guys. Two very different starting points, yet the same mission.
This is just Part I of many articles aimed at helping others build or refine their own church security teams. Luke and I already have lesson plans and an incident reporting system in place. I’m a balls-to-the-wall trainer, while Luke is an OCD nerd and a great instructor. Together, we’re committed to educating and training church security teams, helping them avoid the mistakes we made along the way.
The Right Mindset: Bouncer vs. Cop
I started bouncing at the Ottobar in Baltimore after training the staff in combatives and de-escalation. Freshly retired, I needed the money, so I took the gig. It was a wild place—punk rock shows seven nights a week, full of atheists and vegans, including most of the bouncers. That environment gave me countless opportunities to share the Gospel.
That job also solidified a lesson: when I’m looking for guys for a security team, I want men with a bouncer’s mindset, not a cop’s mindset. Church security, like bouncing, is part of the hospitality business. You’re there to make people feel protected while being able to say “NO” when needed. It requires excellent interpersonal skills, patience, and the ability to think outside the box.
Bouncers deal with regulars—people who usually get it. Sometimes they get emotional and make mistakes, but you handle them with consistency and kindness, so they can save face and come back—whether it’s to spend money at a bar or hear the message at church. If a guy applying for a security role leads with how well he can fight, he’s immediately disqualified. This isn’t Road House, and you’re not Dalton.
When my new church in Fort Worth asked me to explore starting a security team, I made one thing clear: no one should be pushed on me. At Freedom, the fastest way to not get on the team was to ask about getting on the team.
The Reality of Conflict
Bouncers typically don’t carry guns. If they do, you might want to find another place to drink. That’s not to say I didn’t have a holdout piece on my ankle when working the door, but it was never visible—it was the nuclear option. Good bouncers use their heads before their hands. They don’t have the legal protections cops do, and if things go sideways, they’re on their own.
I bounced at a few other places, including Cobblestones and Knickers Pub in York, PA, with Big Rich—my longtime bouncing partner. At a combined weight of over 650 lbs, we were formidable. Rich started bouncing in Ocean City, Maryland, at just 17 and did it professionally for years before realizing there was no future in it and becoming a welder. He had the best instincts of any man I’ve worked with. He could sense trouble long before it surfaced, and when it was time to act, it was handled decisively and without regret.
Cops aren’t used to taking verbal abuse without reacting. Bouncers are. A regular might be your buddy one night and a belligerent drunk the next. Unless he’s a real danger, you handle him with grace because you know he’s out of character. The same applies to regular churchgoers who act out emotionally—whether at a funeral or during a domestic situation spilling into church.
A lot of men think they’re ready for this work, but as I always ask: “When was the last time you got punched in the face?” The way a man responds to that question tells me everything I need to know. If a verbal threat or a drunk telling you to “f*** your mother” disrupts your OODA loop, this isn’t the job for you.
The Warrior’s Path
Before joining Aberdeen PD, I started with Baltimore City School Police, attending Baltimore Police Academy Class 97-2. My mentor there, Santo “Pacman” Grasso, had a simple philosophy: “A good cop needs to do just three things—show up, answer his radio, and fight when he has to.”
Santo went on to Baltimore PD and is now retired, spending his time in Little Italy, working on fireworks shows, and competing with his weight-pulling horses. He was an easygoing guy, but he could outrun any teenager and wouldn’t hesitate to use his nightstick—when necessary.
That’s what being a sheepdog is about. If you can’t take a punch and stay in the fight, what are you going to do if someone starts shooting up your church? I’ve taken the measure of many men and found most wanting. Even most cops today are just wearing costumes, hiding behind Tasers because OC spray is out of fashion, and unwilling to use their batons when needed.
Back when I started, we didn’t have radios in the car, we wrote reports by hand, and we were still allowed to hit people with sticks. Saps and leather jackets had just gone out of style, but they symbolized something—a willingness to do what needed to be done. Their removal, along with the widespread use of body cams, ushered in today’s era of hesitant policing, where officers issue dozens of ignored verbal commands before being assaulted or killed.
It all comes down to mindset, training, and tools—being aware, avoiding trouble when possible, and when you can’t, acting decisively based on the totality of the circumstances.
If you are reading this and believe I am over the top with any of this, please consider the fact that as I type this I am sitting just two miles away from where the Wedgewood Baptist Church Shooting occurred in 1999 at a Christian Teen Concert that ended with seven dead and seven wounded when one man armed with two handguns entered the building and met no resistance. What if there was at least one person there that day armed with a gun and trained in tactical medicine, much less a trained team.
A Call to Action
If you call yourself a protector, one day you may have to prove it. My brother, Dangerous David William—a retired Decatur, Alabama, robbery/homicide/gang detective—always said that.
If you’re still reading and feel called to protect the flock, stay tuned. Luke and I will be sharing more soon. If you need church security training, reach out. You’ll also hear about other men of God I’ve met along the way.
And remember—if you’re not having fun doing it, don’t do it.
God is good, and He built men like us for a time like this.
Church security physical template
