A Christian motorcycle club known for its street-level ministry and prayer work is pushing back against what it calls a serious mischaracterization. It comes after a member was ordered to remove his vest by a Winnipeg police officer who allegedly dismissed the group as a criminal front. ‘We wear it to tell people Jesus is Lord,’ says club pastor following confrontation at Winnipeg event Founded in Winnipeg in 1989, the Bondslaves Motorcycle Club has grown into a faith-based riding community with chapters across North America. While its members wear the traditional three-piece patch common among motorcycle clubs, the Bondslaves MC is anything but typical. “Our mission is to reach unchurched bikers across the country,” said Wayne Schellenberg, president of the club’s Winnipeg chapter. “We love Jesus, we love to ride, and we want people to know they’re not alone.” The club describes itself as a Christian ministry that uses motorcycles as a way to build bridges, engage in prayer, and walk alongside people facing life’s hardest struggles. Misunderstood mission Despite its focus on faith, Bondslaves MC recently found itself at the centre of an incident that raised questions about religious freedom and misconceptions about motorcycle culture. Club member Ron Gross was attending a car show at a Winnipeg restaurant on Nairn Ave. earlier this month when he was approached by an off-duty officer who identified himself and demanded Gross remove his vest, or “cut,” featuring the club’s three-piece patch. “He told me I had to take it off or leave,” Gross said. “When I asked why, he said all three-piece patch guys are the same, that we’re a front for something else.” Gross tried to explain that Bondslaves is a Christian non-profit ministry, but said the officer repeatedly dismissed that claim and referred to the club as “fakes” and their prayers as “phony.” “I was hurt,” Gross said. “We take our faith seriously. This isn’t an image, we’re the real deal.” Out of respect for the venue’s owner, Gross says he left the event peacefully but has since made a formal complaint. A video of the encounter was shared on social media and received widespread support from those familiar with the club. The WPS has not responded to CHVN's request for comment. Listen to the full interview here More than a patch While the three-piece patch often evokes assumptions about criminal activity due to its use by outlaw motorcycle clubs, Bondslaves members say they’ve worked hard to earn the trust of the broader motorcycle community. “We’ve built relationships with many clubs across Manitoba,” said Schellenberg. “We attend their events, support their causes, and offer prayer when it’s needed. We’ve officiated weddings, been at funerals, and prayed for the sick. We’ve earned the right to wear our patch.” Schellenberg added that the term “gang” is often misapplied to riding clubs, many of which, like Bondslaves, operate as structured, legal organizations. “We’re not a gang,” he said. “We’re a club of brothers who ride together and serve together. We’re all about ministry.” Ministry through motorcycles Paul Winter, pastor of the Bondslaves’ affiliated church, House of the Risen Son, says ministry happens everywhere for the clubs' members, from hospital visits to parking lots. “We pray with people on the street. At car shows. At gas stations. Just wearing our cuts opens conversations,” Winter said. If the club is a front for anything, it's for the Kingdom of God the members agreed. Bondslaves membership isn’t casual. Before becoming full-patch members, applicants must complete a 140-page Bible study and demonstrate a consistent Christian walk. “You have to show you love Jesus, want to serve others, and live a life that reflects Christ,” said Winter. “This isn’t a costume, it’s a calling.” ‘We invite people to come and experience Jesus’ Ron Gross is one of many members who came to faith through the club. After being diagnosed with stage 4 prostate cancer, Gross says he stumbled upon a club event and was struck by the members’ openness, sincerity, and prayer. “Something just hit me. I wasn’t following Jesus at the time, but I felt drawn in,” he said. “Now I’ve been baptized, and so has my girlfriend. This club changed our lives.” Gross said it’s discouraging to be called a fake after all he’s experienced. “Every one of us has a story; whether it's addiction, loss, illness, or recovery. We’re real people who’ve been through real things. That’s why we can connect with others. That’s why our ministry matters.” A place for the overlooked Pastor Winter says the club and church intentionally welcome people who may feel pushed out or overlooked by traditional communities. “We invite people who’ve been hurt, rejected or dismissed to come experience Jesus authentically,” he said. “That’s who He came for.” While the recent incident has been discouraging, the club says it’s also opened doors for new conversations and new invitations. “We hope people see that we’re here for them,” said Winter. “If you ever see someone in our vest and you need prayer, stop us. That’s what we’re here for.”