The buses stop at Crossroads, Kennedy Plaza and the Providence Rescue Mission, then head to Cranston for some body and soul work.

For some, it is a bus ride, a meal, a chance to sit and listen to some high energy music and a high energy preacher. It is one more stop on the homeless circuit. For others, it could be the chance to make a break.

One thing’s for sure. The Sunday afternoon service at Praise Tabernacle on Magnolia Street is not your average worship service. It’s got the feel of the revival tent inside a former Lutheran church. It’s got guitar, bass, keyboards, drums, vocals, backup vocals, tambourine, harmonica, maracas. It’s got a large, overhead screen with the words of praise on it.

And it’s got Levi Pangburn.

“He’s the bomb,” says a female parishioner of the lean, 20-year-old pastor who does not stand still.

Levi moves. He carries the message back and forth, up and back and even out of sight at one point.

“This is church like you’ve never heard before,” he says.

You could say that. It’s a church that sure doesn’t let dusty old tradition get in the way of dealing with what’s happening now. It’s bluesy and spiritual and down-on-the-streets practical.

The Sunday afternoon service started to take shape more than two years ago when women from the church went to Crossroads and Kennedy Plaza to hand out bag lunches and clothing. It got to be a regular thing, so regular that the church eventually bought two buses from Johnson & Wales to bring the homeless to Sunday morning services.

When the crowd outgrew the church, the special Sunday afternoon service for the homeless was established and designed for those in the pews. The problems carried off the buses and through the door are the problems dealt with during the “life groups” that gather in various parts of the church at the end of the service.

The homeless service is the third service on a Sunday at Praise Tabernacle.

There have been people drunk at times, and people stoned. A homeless ministry is going to confront what the streets provide.

There are also people who might be one warm, caring human experience away from getting free of the dreary, dispiriting life of shelters and empty days.

One man who started coming to the service now has an apartment nearby and comes to clean the church every day. Another who has no teeth and no prospects was connected with a thoughtful dentist.

“These are people who go from one place to the next — from the library to the mall,” says Allen Pangburn, the senior pastor and father of Levi. “When they first come here they have one question — how long will it last? They get a hot meal, sit in a warm place, get some clothing. But this is a place where they really feel unconditional love.”

When the music started on Sunday, the senior pastor was on drums.

The dream at Praise Tabernacle is a dream center, a place that would cover every need of the homeless — addiction treatment, employment, training, medical treatment, a place to go during the week.

It might be a long way off. The people of the church will pray for it.

After the service, cigarettes are fired up between the church door and the bus door. Some old street connections are renewed.

A solid, energized hour away from the too familiar streets of Providence is behind them. For some that might be all it is. For others, it might be a taste of real possibilities.

bkerr@projo.com