BAM! BOP! KA-POW!
A melee broke out among the students of Leuzinger High School, in a gas station lot right across the street from where I was preaching, at the corner of Rosecrans and Prairie yesterday.
No Sheriffs were around, so the kids had free reign to punch each other in the jaw and foreheads. One after another, a new kid would join the fracas, some being pulled to the ground, others being pulled into the pile, swinging, swirling.
What did I do?
I stopped preaching… and started praying. Loudly. “In Jesus’ name I pray for the fighting to stop,” I shouted into my microphone (our speaker is loud enough and big enough to be heard across the street). It worked. As I prayed, the fights died down, then just as suddenly, another skirmish would start up. I prayed and the scuffles would fade, but then a new one would break out.
Then the real danger began. Sheriffs’ cars plowed through the kids walking in the sidewalks, neary hitting some. Other vehicles ran red lights, or drove down the wrong side of the streets. Everyone scattered; a couple of ruffians were grabbed by the collars, and just as fast as it started, it ended. I noticed a sweaty kid with a cauliflower ear rubbing his face.
I resumed my preaching knowing the Balm of Gilead can salve all wounds.