Stone the Preacher

In light of Carol’s persecution by some demonized crazies on Good Friday, I was reminded that some things never change. Read the account of John Wesley’s persecution as he preached the Gospel in Great Britain during the 18th century.

See the larger image here.

In their mission to bring the Christian message to every town and village in Great Britain, the 18th century Methodist preachers travelled extensively.

They would arrive at a place, attempt to preach in one of the churches or, failing that, in a market place or at a fair.

Their style was engaging and they spoke with authority and grace. Wesley described their work as ‘offering pardon to sinners’.

But they didn’t always receive a warm welcome. While many thousands gathered to hear the message, some reacted negatively. Sometimes fuelled by jealous clergy, or fearful ‘Gentlemen’, and sometimes by a basic reaction of anger, the preachers faced violence fairly regularly. This was a different type of spiritual warfare.

John Wesley, making an entry in his journal for 20th June 1743, wrote,

‘Before five the mob surrounded the house again, in greater numbers than ever. The cry of one and all was, “Bring out the Minister! We will have the Minister!” Read the rest of the account here.

In light of yesterday’s post featuring “Righteous Richard” getting booed by thousands at the Rose Parade, I thought this painting of 18th century preacher George Whitefield would provide food for thought as it depicts many who tried to stifle him as he proclaimed the Word of life. Remember, he helped bring about The Great Awakening through his fearless preaching.  (See the larger image by clicking here. ) 

Whitefield wrote, “I believe I was never more acceptable to my Master than when I was standing to teach those hearers in the open fields. Some may censure me; but if I thus pleased men, I should not be the servant of Christ.

“I never was more opposed and never met with so great success. I hope I shall learn more and more every day, that no place is amiss for preaching the Gospel. (more…)

In our last episode, the pastor of a small church in the ‘burbs of Sacramento, Mark Dahlin of Living Hope Christian Church, was exposed to the reality of witnessing in modern day America: He found out first hand that evangelists are not always welcome in the neighborhood. (You must click here to start at part 1)

Because most people in authority don’t understand that those who share their faith have certain rights guaranteed by the Constitution, they will try to stop you from sharing the Gospel. When that happens, a Christian has two choices: lay down their rights as Christ commanded, or fight, by taking your persecutors to court.

We, as an evangelism team, have always chosen the former. Fighting authority figures ignorant in First Amendment Law takes up too much time and energy; we’d rather move to a new place and continue to preach. There will come a time, however, for us to take a legal stand. 

Not this time.

That’s why I kept preaching to the crowd standing in front of the Sacramento Memorial Auditorium even as I was being led away by the arm of a (very courteous) Sacramento police officer. (In fact, she whispered to me, “C’mon guy, you’re making me look bad.”) I didn’t resist. That’s why another member of the team, “Righteous Richard” kept preaching on the other side of the crowd. That’s why Pastor Mark Dahlin kept handing out Gospel tracts to all passersby. 

And that’s why, when we were accosted by burly, antagonistic, aggressive and scary 20-something security guards in front of the mall (along with a retiree), we just moved on out of the area.

But then something really strange happened in the evening after the mall incident. It’s when we were walking along the boardwalk sharing our faith in Old Sacramento. Pastor Mark tapped me on the shoulder with a look of panic mixed with terror, muttering something in my ear. I looked up and my face turned ashen. Just up ahead, standing on a box in the corner of the boardwalk was a… Sign Guy! (Strike up the “Psycho” score.)

It’s no secret that I have issues with Sign Guys. The majority of those I have encountered have bad attitudes and are not held accountable by any church, so they do whatever they please. There is usually not a lot of grace in their messages, focusing primarily on judgment and Hell, without giving a reason why people should repent. (Read a previous article about them here.)

But not all of them are like that. There are a few who balance their pronouncements of doom and condemnation with grace and love. As I looked closer at the Sign Guy, I recognized that he was one of the good ones. We served together at Way of the Master’s evangelism boot camp, The Ambassador’s Academy. Not only that, he has good, solid, correct theology, participating in a blog called The Reformed Evangelist. His name: Paul Kaiser.

But he tricked me.

Knowing I couldn’t resist an empty preaching box, he invited me to step aboard. I did, not really noticing the signs next to the box. He took a picture. Then another. Then another. Then he posted them on Facebook, alerting all the other sign guys—and the world— that yes, I too, was one of them! No! No! No!

To make matters worse, adding salt to the wound, and forever humiliating me on the Internet, unbeknownst to me—he filmed it, too.  The Sign Guy filmed it and posted it on YouTube!!! The shame! The horror!

Worst of all. Or maybe it was the best, I just don’t know anymore, I’m so confused…. Remember our pastor from the small church in the ‘burbs of Sacramento? After all this, do you know what he did? Did he throw up his hands in disgust and quit? In shock, did he renounce the faith and become a Mormon? No… it was much worse than that: He jumped up on the box after me—his very first time—bellowed out a powerful message…

…and became indelibly linked and identified with—the Sign Guys! Forever.

It’s just a sign of the times.

Will wonders (and signs) never cease?!!?!

(There’s more! Click here for part 3.)

Imagine that you are a pastor of a small church in the ‘burbs of Sacramento and you’ve just invited an evangelism team from Southern California to teach your congregation the principles of The Way of the Master at a one day seminar.

And imagine going out with the team on the night before the training starts and seeing the instructor  jump out of the van and start preaching to a crowd waiting in line for a free concert featuring the President’s Marine Band.

Then imagine the horror of seeing that very same instructor getting escorted off the premises by a member of Sacramento’s finest.

Imagine the shock of witnessing with your very own eyes, the pastor you’ve entrusted with equipping your flock, getting led away by the police, and the whole  time he’s walking verrrrry sloooowly and preaching to those standing in line. It’s not that he was doing anything illegal—it was state property—it’s just that most police officers have no awareness of Constitutional law when it regards free speech.

And how would you feel, as the pastor of a small church in the ‘burbs of Sacramento, when, after the evangelism training the next day, while handing out Gospel tracts  outside a shopping mall, you see that very same instructor, the one who was escorted off state property the day before, now being  surrounded by vicious mall security and being told to leave the premises, though once again, he was doing nothing wrong or illegal.

I mean, seriously, how would you feel if you heard the instructor ask the Paul Blartish security guys what’s wrong and he replies, “I don’t know, but you were doing something….”

Now, imagine that it’s evening and you are the pastor of that small church in the ‘burbs of Sacramento, and you’re now  in the old downtown district of the city, and you see something that the instructor warned you about. You try not to panic. The instructor tries not to panic.

Yet something happens that you will never forget because you can’t believe it’s actually happening!

Now click here for part 2 to find out what strange, surreal thing we encountered next….

This is what a street preacher looks like from a congregant’s perspective; that is, the shopper sitting on a shuttle bus, returning to their car after a long day at the Fiesta Hermosa, the twice-a-year pagan street festival where no church is represented among the trinket booths.

It’s quite an effective way to get the gospel out; if you’ve never tried it, you really should. There’s just one catch: people get kinda cranky at the end of the day in the hot sun; add to that a few brewskis, and you just might find yourself on the receiving end of a pointed insult—or worse. Like what happened to me…

But I’ll get to that in a moment.

My friend from Australia, Josh Williamson, gave it a go. Since they don’t have freedom of speech down under, he was more than happy to share with fair-goers the great news that Jesus Christ was the only way to Heaven.

After a few obligatory “Shadd-aps!” and cynical eyes rolling heavenwards, the crowd settled down and listened to the guy with the funny accent. But two ladies were very angry that they were being filmed by our videographer. “He can’t film me!” one protested. “I’m a public figure and if I see this online, I’m going to sue!” I asked her who she was, but she declined to reveal herself publicly.

A man off to the side screamed something. Josh ignored him, not fully understanding an insult in accented American English.

A Security guard tried to stop him, but Josh, being around 6′ 8″ (or so), simply stepped around him and continued to preach. 

 Then it was my turn.

There’s a little joke on our evangelism team that whenever something bad happens, it happens to me. Whether it’s getting splashed in the face while preaching in front of a beer garden, or getting smacked in the face at the NBA Finals, or being pulled down from a street sign, it only happens to me.

When “Righteous Richard” preached at this very same shuttle bus line, all he got was an angry man shouting at him from a window. Not me.

Nope. Something worse happened….

Everything was going so well. The shuttle pulled up; I stood at the exit and handed out gospel tracts to everyone getting off the bus while greeting them with a cheery, “Welcome to the fair!” They took the tracts, thinking I was a fair representative. I was, too. Fine.

As a line formed to take people from the fair, I jumped on a wall and preached a simple four minute message. Never mind that the line ignores me as they climb aboard the bus; I’m not easily offended. Besides, I know that they can still hear me through the open windows and that gives me great solace.

Heck, I’m not even offended when they try to shut the windows, because I know that there ain’t no air conditioning on those big ole yellow buses! I’m not even offended when the twenty-something lesbians lip-lock in full view of my preaching, because I know that they are doing this to distract me. Hey! I live in L.A. No big deal!

What really offended is what I didn’t see though I did hear the warning sign. From behind I heard “Shadd-ap!” Then Wham!—blind-sided by a guy who came from behind and shoved me off my perch! I fell violently—in slow motion—to the ground. The nerve of the guy!

“That’s assault!” I sputtered. He ignored me. I tried to pull out my camera to get a picture but… what’s the point? Jesus did say that all men will hate me because of him; this was just a promise being fulfilled. I wasn’t hurt; fortunately I caught myself in time. In fact, my daughter D.D. laughed.

Laughed.

What’s a street preacher to do? Can’t sue. Can’t push him back. Can’t hit him. All I can do is one thing—the most important thing.

Get back on the wall.

And preach!

John Wesley (1703-1791), in recounting a preaching session gone bad, wrote this in his journal: “When we came pretty near the town, both men and women saluted us, first with bad words and then with dirt and stones. My horses soon left them behind, but not till they had broken one of the windows [of the carriage], the glass of which came pouring in upon me, but did me no further hurt.”