“Then I said, “alas, Lord God! Behold, I do not know how to speak, because I am a youth.” But the Lord said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am a youth.’ because everywhere I send you, you shall go, and all that I command you, you shall speak. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you,’ declares the Lord”. Then the Lord stretched out His hand and touched my mouth, and the Lord said to me, “Behold, I have put My words in your mouth.” Jeremiah 1:6-9 (NASB)
Preaching was so much fun. We would challenge people. And preaching in the streets was the most fun of all. We would do things to gather a crowd that you’d never do in a Church. And we would preach to regular people - street people. No “Christianese”, just down to earth, easy to understand illustrations from life and the simple truth of the Gospel.
We handled hecklers better than any ministry I’ve ever seen. We didn’t ignore them, we answered them. If they got out of hand one of the team members would engage them in a conversation that would distract them from heckling the speaker. Or, we’d just move on to a song, a loud song. You couldn’t preach for long periods of time and keep a crowd’s attention. The only reason anyone listened was if we were interesting. The music had to pull them in. The preaching had to drive home one or two points really fast. Anything more than that had to be done by the “secret” team down among the crowd.
Learning to do this was a skill, but we always knew that we were nothing. We knew that if anything happened it would be God. We didn’t have any illusions of being talented or eloquent speakers, or able, in our own power, to do anything. We just “went” and did our best. God had to do the rest. We were partners with God. We never hit the streets with out at least an hour of prayer before hand.
There was a corner in Houston where we ministered often. It was special; a really strategic, albeit scary, place for ministry. Across the street was a busy bar. Behind the vacant lot where we set up were apartments. The big empty lot itself provided a place for bar patrons to park, and for us to hold our meetings.
We would take the Gospel Trailer and set up across from this bar late at night when the place was crawling with people. With the Gospel Trailer we had a loud, rock and roll band, with a P.A. and everything. Exactly what we needed to get attention in a place like that.
The Gospel Trailer had a hinged back that lifted up to provide the backdrop for the stage. We could set it up in about 3 or 4 minutes. We had it down to a science and sometimes ran set up drills. During set up on this particular street corner someone would run over to the apartment complex behind the empty lot with a really long extension chord. They’d knock on a door and ask whoever answered if we could use a little electricity for our concert. I don’t think anybody ever said no. They were too amazed that we’d even ask and always curious about what we were doing.
We weren’t all white kids. Some were black and some Hispanics, but by in large, white was our predominant color, most of the time. This place was deep in the heart of a black ghetto and to see white people here was rare. Just being there got people’s attention.
One night there were about 300 people crowded around the area while we sang and preached from the Gospel Trailer. Robert Duran was preaching from atop the trailer when a guy came running out of the bar across the street and got into an old beat up car in the lot next to where we were set up. He backed into a brand new, really nice Cadillac also parked there. We thought he must be drunk. But he pulled forward and did it again. Not just once, but repeatedly. Another man bolted from the bar and ran across the street shooting at the car smashing the Cadillac. The old car took off down the street with the shooter running behind.
All this created quite a scene, but we kept on ministering. Robert just kept on preaching. We didn’t have long to wait for the next round of excitement to begin.
The street between the bar and Gospel Trailer was often busy with traffic. This night was no exception and cars were continually going back and forth in front of the bar. Somebody slowed way down to see what we were doing, but the guy behind him, who was also watching us, didn’t. Crash! Right in front of the Gospel Trailer one car tail-ended another.
Everyone was already a little on edge because of all the crashing and shooting that had just happened a few minutes earlier, so all 300 people, standing there, jumped like they had been shot themselves.
In the next split second Robert shouted over the microphone. “Just like that your life could end! Just like that you could be meeting your maker. No more chances to get things right. No more time to change your ways.” There was no shortage of eager listeners after that.
That was the sheer excitement and joy of preaching on the streets. It was being full of the Holy Spirit, letting God give you the words to say to people you otherwise have nothing in common with. It was using the sights and sounds around you to bring them to a place of knowing that God and His love were not far away, but very, very near.
Jim Berrier