It’s a tricky thing to attempt to preach to thousands of angry protesters as they march down the street waving banners, flags, and large signs suitable for bashing heads. Add to that rhythmic chants, off-key songs, fist-thrusting bellows, bullhorns, and Native Americans with tom-toms, then you can see how a street preacher has quite a challenge getting the message out. (Please read the start of this series by clicking here.)

This was our strategy: Pray for an open door.

We ran down the street alongside the protest march, set up Big Bertha the Speaker and Little Mike (his baby brother), cranked up the volume, then preached the Law and Gospel to the marchers as they passed by.

Whenever they saw us preaching, they cranked up whatever volume they could to drown us out. We’d run ahead of the marchers again and again, doing the same thing, over and over. We were desperate for them to hear, anxious for them to respond, wanting them to somehow understand our good news so they would repent and trust in the Living God.

Then a door opened. Silence. The protest came to a halt. Everyone was still. A “Die-In” was enacted.

All of a sudden loudspeakers boomed “bombs” bursting in air, then everyone fell to the ground as if they were dying. Crouching, prone, dead.

This was their hallowed moment; this was our golden opportunity. We cranked up the volume of “Big Bertha” and I asked the big question: “If bombs were really to drop right now, and you were to die, where would you go, Heaven or Hell? That’s when it got ugly.

Ever see a peace marcher lose his peace? Preach the Gospel. People gave me the finger. They threatened. They angrily put their fingers to their lips and gave me the “Shhhhhh…” sign. One man ran by and pulled “Big Bertha the Loudspeaker” off the ledge, nearly killing a little girl who was sitting just underneath.

Another man grabbed the cord of my microphone and started pulling. People rose from the “dead” like zombies seeking their pound of flesh from the preacher.

I continued to preach.

The hornets were stirred. The beast awoke. I noticed unhappily that the police were at the far end of the marchers—too far from me! I thought that I could actually be dragged down from my five-foot perch between the two Roman columns, and killed. But rather than give in to the fear of what could happen, I trusted that God had placed me where I was so that they would hear his word. And they heard, boy did they hear…

See for yourself in this compilation video, all the action that took place—running from preaching spot to preaching spot, the speaker pushed from the wall, protesters w/bullhorns trying to drown me out, to the “Die-In”— as we brought the greatest news of all to those who wanted no part of God or His message.

You might get a kick out of this video of a man singing the famous Pete Seeger/Birds song, “Turn, Turn, Turn” as I preached “Turn, Turn, Turn from Your Sins” in the background. Click here to see it.