Evangelism comes in many shapes, colors

Saturday, September 15, 2007

By Charles Honey

The Grand Rapids Press

A more bizarre scene I have not seen in Grand Rapids. It could have been out of a Fellini movie.

Saturday night, Celebration on the Grand: A classic-rock band plays on Rosa Parks Circle. Nearby, break-dancers cut their best moves and a belly dancer undulates for a crowd.

Across Pearl Street, directly in front of Mojo's bar-restaurant, a man stands on a platform and preaches about heaven and hell -- nonstop and loudly.

"The choice is yours, my friend!" Curt Benjamin shouts, as bar patrons booze and boogie just behind him. "God offers the way to eternal life!"

He's flanked by two guys holding placards with Bible verses. Directly in front of him, a stoic guy with a cigarette holds a hand-scrawled piece of cardboard that reads, "Jesus also turned water into wine."

The curious gather around. Is this cigarette dude with them or not? Definitely not.

"Even this mocker can be saved!" Benjamin yells, pointing at Dustin Posthuma.

Nonbelievers

Welcome to interfaith dialogue, West Michigan-style.

Turns out, Posthuma spontaneously assumed his post to question Benjamin's message. As he put it later, "I was just putting a speed-bump in what they were doing."

A physics student at Grand Rapids Community College, Posthuma does not believe in God, though "that's cool if you need that." But he is down on organized religion -- especially this kind.

"People who stand on the street corner and scream at you (or) strap a bomb on themselves in the name of God -- it's that type of religion that bothers me," says Posthuma, 21. "It's the same thing, at a different level."

The street preachers say Posthuma has the right to stand there -- but they fear for his soul.

"That's what the devil wants, is for people to question the Bible," says Joshua Langdon, 25.

Langdon is an elder and preacher with Bible Believers Church, a Lowell fellowship of about 25 believers. Every Wednesday they preach in downtown Lowell, then knock on doors and hand out tracts.

About a dozen of them went to Celebration on the Grand last weekend, preaching first at the Gerald R. Ford Museum. They also preached downtown on July 4.

World reactions

They expect and accept ridicule. John 15:19 tells them, "I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you."

"We believe in a real heaven and a real hell," says Langdon, a Spectrum Health ER nurse, sitting in a wing of Dery Physical Therapy where they worship. "A love of people's souls drives us to tell them the one and only way to heaven, which is the blood of Jesus Christ."

A banner behind him shows people rejoicing in heaven and burning in flames. Says his father, Dr. Mike Langdon, "We want people to think about where they're going to spend eternity."

An urgent care physician for Spectrum, Mike spreads the word with yard signs as well as street preaching. He says helping people in Christ's name is one way to evangelize but that some need tougher talk. He quotes Jude 23: "others save with fear, pulling them out of the fire."

Free to preach

"We're just a bunch of saved sinners that want to get the word out," says Langdon, 54.

"It's easy to worship in this room," he adds, as his and Joshua's wives tend to toddlers. "It's more difficult to go outside and preach to people who don't want to hear you."

He admits only "a few" have come to Christ through their preaching -- including one Wednesday night -- and many are annoyed. Still, his belief compels him to try.

As for Dustin Posthuma, Langdon says he is as free to disagree as they are to preach: "We have the freedom to do this in this country."

Amen to that. Freedom of speech and religion may be obnoxious at times. But it is wonderfully bizarre to see it in action.

Send e-mail to the author: choney@grpress.com