Out of Ur has a retrospective from a pastor about street-corner preachers who use bullhorns and vitriolic signs to get the message of Christ across to sinners. The kind of preachers who sincerely believe that anyone who disagrees with their viewpoint on anything is going to hell.
You can head over to Out of Ur and read all of Angry Preachers. Here’s a good chunk of the post:
Before I’d walked even a block from the festival, I bumped into a small crowd whose attention was fixed on two men speaking loudly to the bedraggled onlookers. One held a handmade sign that read—I kid you not— “TURN OR BURN!†He spoke into a bullhorn, warning the young people of God’s coming judgment and listing in vivid detail the sins that would lead them to an eternity burning in hell. The other man held an open Bible and vigorously debated anyone who disagreed with his companion’s portrayal of God.
For the past two days, I’d watched these young people pursue beauty and friendship and community. Groups of sunburned 20somethings had made their way from one stage to the next, avoiding mud puddles and speaking with awe in their voices about their favorite musical experiences of the weekend. And now, as they left the safety of the festival grounds, they were immediately confronted with Jesus. Or at least two of Jesus’ representatives.
A few in the crowd poked fun and tried to fluster the preachers. What really caught my attention, though, what overruled my fatigue, was another response. Despite this generation’s reputation as cynical and sarcastic, many of the young wore visible sadness on their faces. Some pleaded with Bullhorn Man for a different portrayal of Jesus. A few people asked Bible Man if his God had any love for them. One young man was on the edge of tears as he tried to convince the men to lower their voices, to show kindness in their words about Jesus.
Ten minutes of this street theatre was enough and, quenching my desire to punch Bullhorn Man and Bible Man, I continued toward the train. As I often do after encountering this version of Christian witness, I angrily questioned why these men did what they did. How could they possibly think their language and posture was helpful? Is this what Jesus had in mind when he felt compassion for the harassed and helpless crowds—sheep without a shepherd—and asked his disciples to pray for more workers for the harvest? My irritation only increased as I thought about how the irreligious and marginalized of his day were attracted to Jesus. Whether or not they would have accepted his easy yoke, certainly these festival goers would have been intrigued by the alternative life Jesus proclaimed and demonstrated.
This method of spreading the Gospel doesn’t sit well with me. It’s always awkward and always uncomfortable. I find it rather telling that whenever I encounter someone like this the only people giving them serious attention are other Christians. Christians who are desperately attempting to ascertain why Christ is being portrayed like this. And, without fail, the rest of the crowd is making fun of the preachers or yelling back at them.
The thing is, most people who do this sort of street evangelism have a deep desire to see people turn from their ways and see the light. They just happen to pick a shocking way in which to preach that message.
Out of curiosity, I’d really like to know if you or anyone you know has found salvation through the efforts of an angry street preacher? And to be clear, I’m not writing about all street evangelism, just those that choose to do it with questionable signs akin to “Turn or Burn” and screaming through megaphones.
