(Read Part 1 by clicking here.)

Dictionary: blunderbuss (blŭn’dər-bŭs’)
n.

1. A short musket of wide bore and flaring muzzle, formerly used to scatter shot at close range.
   
2. A person regarded as clumsy and stupid.

Five, count ’em, five, blunderbusses preached to the crowds waiting in line at the shuttle bus stop at the Fiesta Hermosa.
It was the perfect spot. A large wall ran alongside the line allowing us to move up and down the street as the line shifted and swayed. If the line grew short, we were there; if it got longer, we were there.

Of course, out of the five preachers who do you think got hassled?

It wasn’t Ed Lee.

Even though he spoke of the coming wrath of God, no one gave him any guff.

They might have wanted Val Scott to stop, but no one said anything to him.

A small-voiced guy named B.J. even stood on a silly stepladder…
…think they got mad at him? Noooooo.

“Righteous Richard” Chavarria alerted the line to the Moral Law of God… did anyone say anything to that guy? Heck no.

Just me. They always come after me.

One man tried to interrupt: “Excuse me, excuse me. You’re going about it the wrong way. You’re creating all this negative energy, a great divide!” I ignored him and kept on preaching. When I climbed down from the wall, I went over to hear him out. “There is no right or wrong,” he explained. “God is everything.”

A security guard tried to intimidate me by speaking into his walkie-talkie, and giving me a hard look.

Who was he calling? The feds?

A lady Security guard stood right under me and shouted, “Hey! Hey! Come down from there! Hey! Stop! Stop! I’m calling the police! I’m calling the police!” I ignored her, too; then she walked away in frustration.

This lady didn’t like what I was saying at all.

Can’t say that I blame her. Who wants to hear that they’re going to Hell after a fun ole time at a beach fair?

A friendly man tried to shake my hand in the middle of a sermon. I ignored him. A Christian man tried to wave and shake my hand, too. I ignored him. I had to stay focused on the task at hand.

I kept preaching and another angry man made his way to my wall.

He too, tried to stop me. When I ignored him, he stalked away and grabbed Security. Security told him to go get the police. The police didn’t do a thing.

After it was all over for the day, I asked a friendly Security guard about what he thought. “I don’t know why they get all upset,” he said. “They know that you’re going to be here every year. It’s only for a few minutes that you do this. If you talked about baseball, it would be a lot different…”

Charles Spurgeon said:

“Evangelists, go on preaching at the street corner–you that visit the low lodging-houses, go on. Get into the room and talk of Jesus Christ there as you have done. You that go into the country towns on the Sabbath and speak on the village-greens of Christ, go on with it. I am glad to see you, but I am glad to miss you when I know you are about the Master’s work. We don’t want to keep the salt in the box: let it be rubbed into the putrid mass to stay the putrification. We don’t want the seed forever in the corn-bin: let it be scattered and it will give us more. Oh! brethren and sisters, wake up if any of you are asleep. Don’t let an ounce of strength in this church be wasted–not a single grain of ability, either in the way of doing, or praying, or giving, or holy living. Spend and be spent, for who hath despised the day of small things? The Lord encourage weak believers, and the Lord accept the efforts of feeble workers, and send to both his richest benediction for Christ’s sake. Amen.”

See Part 3, “The American Preacher Finals,” via video, as “Righteous Richard” and myself preach from the wall to the shuttle bus line. You get to judge who had the most effective presentation. Click here to see the videos!