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A couple of weeks ago, I took a whirlwind weekend trip to Los Angeles. I landed at LAX around 8:30AM, and planned to meet up with my friends in the afternoon. With a few hours on my hands, I took the opportunity to go to one of my most favorite places on the planet: the beach.
It was still early when I parked at the south end of Venice Beach, so I took the stroll up to the Santa Monica Pier (about a 3-mile walk) and hung out with the musicians and fishermen for a bit. After I had soaked up more than enough sun, I walked back to join the throngs of people at Venice Beach. They were all there: the artisans, the street performers, the skateboarders, the street preachers, the walkers, the bikers, the dogs, and strollers like me.
Street preachers. I’ll be honest. I don’t get them. Especially the aggressive, in-your-face ones. And, frankly, I don’t get the more passive ones who walk around with “Christian” signs of condemnation and judgment and pass out tracts to passersby. I suspect that some folks may want to wag their finger at me for this next bit because, as a Christian, I should support those who are out there sharing the gospel. But that’s my point: What gospel? And what message are we trying to convey?
But back to my story: On this day, I decided to ask a question.
There were three of them standing together: a man who looked like he was in charge, a kind-looking older lady, and a young black woman. They were carrying very large yellow and black signs with bold statements about sin, God’s wrath and repentance. And they were passing out tracts. So I walked up to them and said, “I’m Christian. I’m from Seattle. I’m just visiting. How effective is all this?”
The man who was in charge replied first. He wouldn’t look at me; instead, his focus was on the cards he was fiddling with in his hands. He explained that they were there to share the truth, and that this may be the only place some would see or hear the truth. Okay. The older lady shared that on some days, they pass out boxes and boxes of tracts, while on other days, they’re working hard just to empty one box.
I could tell that my question had made the man uncomfortable (which surprised me, but it wasn’t my intent), and since I was more interested in the results vs. the why, I didn’t pursue further with him. I thanked them for their time, and headed on my way.
At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how many street preachers there are or how many signs are being carried around or how many tracts are given out. What matters is if lives are being transformed by the message we as Christians are sharing. With or without words. Through whatever means.
It seems that when Jesus spoke to the people during his ministry and when Peter spoke to the Jews in the early church, their words changed people’s lives. Lots of them. That same day. Forever. Is there something to be learned from the words they used?
Here’s a little exercise:
Even though these are rhetorical questions, it would be interesting to compare what the Christians would share with what the non-Christians would respond to. At Venice Beach, I suspect there’s a disconnect. Why do I say that? Because the man I made uncomfortable would have been telling me a different story. And he wouldn’t have been uncomfortable telling it.
Kurt Willems, an Anabaptist writer and pastor, was in Venice Beach the following weekend. His visit was clearly more exciting than mine. He got to see the devil: The Devil Repents in Venice Beach (The “What if…” of all “What ifs”).
Hmmm, I wonder what question I would have asked the dude with the red tights and pitchfork?!
