Preaching at American Idol, Part 3: “Kill the Preacher!”
I’ve heard the scuttlebutt. I’ve seen the eyes roll. I’ve even been asked this question in regard to my preaching in the open air at unconventional places: “Steve, what’s the difference between what you do and what that crazy “Jesus Guy” does?”
The Jesus Guy, is a little strange and every city has one.
Ours haunts a local market wearing tinsel and signs and funny hats.
Our Jesus Guy drives a strange vehicle with “Jesus” and “Holy” and red ribbon all over it.
To the non-Christian there is no difference between him and me. To the lukewarm Christian who has no passion for the lost, I have to admit, that to them, there is no difference between him and me. I’m just another Jesus freak. A kook. A crazy. “What good does all your preaching do anyway?” they ask. “You’re just bothering people…”
I sometimes wrestle with my image; I know how I must look to “outsiders”; I know how I must sound. I used to be on the other side of the fence, pointing my finger and wagging my tongue. Now I’m one of them.
I do what I do because I trust that God’s Word will never return empty, but will accomplish what God desires, and will achieve the purpose for which He sent it (Isaiah 55:11); God’s Word is living and active, sharper than any double-edged sword, and penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joint and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart (Hebrews 4:12); God’s Word is spirit (John 6:63) and gives eternal life (John 6:68). Trusting in these facts gives me the confidence to do what I do.
That’s why after preaching in front of the Nokia Theater, I had to go back and preach to the people who had been standing in line for six hours under the hot sun hoping to get into the American Idol finals!
My voice was hoarse and my face was red, but I had at least two more sermons in me. My faithful friend, Umberto, trooper that he is, was game, shooting photos and handing out Gospel tracts alongside me.
Though bushed, I jumped back into the hedge where I had preached previously.
“You already preached to us!” someone shouted.
“That’s okay,” I replied. “You need to hear it again.” This time though, I had a heckler. For two straight minutes a lady screeched over and over, “Peace and love! Peace and love! Peace and love!”
Ignoring her, I raised my voice like a trumpet and warned that anyone who broke any of God’s 10 Commandments—if anyone had ever lied, or stolen, or blasphemed God’s name, or lusted in their hearts—then God would see them as lying, thieving, blasphemous, adulterers-at-heart. On Judgment Day they would be found guilty and end up in Hell.”
“Peace and love! Peace and love! Peace and love!”
As I spoke of the good news, of the peace and love God provided by sending His son, Jesus, to die for our sins if they’d only repent and believe, Jane Fonda faded away around the corner.
I hoped her message would be remembered, especially when the tickets ran out, since I noticed that there were only about fifty left—and she was about number eighty in line.
Next I hopped onto the stool for my last sermon: in another driveway at the L.A. Convention Center.! “We’ve already heard this!” someone yelled.
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