During Sunday's installation of Dennis Foust as senior pastor of St. John's Baptist Church, the chairman of the deacons compared the new union to an arranged marriage.

But it looks like love at first sight.

St. John's, a moderate Baptist congregation with a reinvigorated vision of itself and its future, went looking for a leader who could help it turn new dreams into broader action.

Foust, head of a church in Birmingham, Ala., for the past decade, coveted a larger, like-minded spiritual community and a congregation "that needed me to be fully me."

Four months into the relationship - Foust's installation as the church's seventh pastor was delayed so his family could be on hand - both sides seem smitten.

Foust, 56, is the son of a minister whose ancestors settled in Alamance County in the 18th century. He says he will spend his first year getting to know the 600 active members of his new church before launching into the community and congregational work that needs to be done.

Sally Young, who chaired the search committee of the 90-year-old church, next to Presbyterian Hospital in the Elizabeth community, says Foust quickly emerged from the 100 resumes St. John's received.

The sifting proved easier, Young said, because St. John's had spent a year in introspection - figuring out what it is and where it wants to go.

Jack Causey of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship of North Carolina served as matchmaker. Four of his recommendations, including Foust, were among the six finalists.

Each visited Charlotte. Most of the interviews lasted less than 90 minutes.

Foust's, Young said, went on for almost four hours.

Both sides, it turned out, wanted the same thing: to build on St. John's legacy as "a servant church" that predates the civil rights days; to advocate as much for community problems ranging from homelessness to hunger as for its own spiritual needs.

When he walked to the lectern during St. John's 10:30 a.m. service, Foust spoke of being part of a church that "builds bridges, not barriers; that contributes community, not conflict," that develops its point of view from a simple starting point: "Love one another."

Afterward, he made his way down the stairs and through 12 full yards of a pot-luck dinner - casseroles and sweet potatoes, Jellos and salads and six varieties of deviled eggs, all leading to platters of ham and fried chicken. A bulging dessert table awaited in the next room.

Foust sat with his wife, Paula, and their children. Members of his congregation bent over to wish him well.

During a quiet moment, he returned to the theme of becoming the minister he needs to be.

He told the story about how some members of his former church reacted negatively when he announced he had invited a Birmingham rabbi to preach alongside him one Sunday.

He told Paula it was time to leave. Now, he says, he wakes up each morning feeling that he's spiritually at home.

Before the tables were cleared, the members of St. John's took small pencils and green note cards and wrote words of encouragement to Dennis and Paula Foust.

Ken Sanford, a retired public information director at UNC Charlotte whose wife, Judy, was on the church's search committee, put his message this way.

"Dennis," he wrote. "Just do it."