Guest post by Jack Wallace
If you’ve driven in the area of Harding Road and White Bridge Road in Nashville with some regularity over the past few months, you’ve probably seen him standing in the traffic island, where other sign carriers are often found. Their signs are typically small and ask for money or speak in support of a cause or a political party. His signs are large, handmade, religious, and with a message that would strike most readers as hateful. They strike me as relics of a bygone era, maybe fifty or sixty years ago, when street corner preachers shouting at passers-by about the approaching apocalypse and day of judgement were more common.
The white-haired man holding the sign seemed anachronistic. As I waited at the traffic light, I studied him. Perhaps I read too much into his facial expression, but he didn’t seem angry or agitated, not even particularly prayerful. Less a zealot and more a simple message-bearer. What motivated him to stand on this corner and deliver this message of condemnation? What was his journey that brought him here? Why this form of ministry?
His sign listed a phone number and invited the passerby to call. So, I did. I recorded our conversation and I’ve edited it a bit for brevity, but these are his words. He gave me permission to share them.
Me: Is this the sign-carrier from the corner in Nashville?
Him: Yes.
Me: Do you mind telling me your name and your age?
Him: My name is Ron, and I’m 72.
Me: Are you with a religious organization?
Ron: I’m not with a religious organization but I do assemble on Sunday with other Christians. I live about 80 miles west of Nashville, near Lobelville, and I go to a meeting with other believers that are mostly – their background is Amish and Mennonite. I’m not a member, but they allow me to worship with them.
Me: When did you start your street ministry and carrying your signs?
Ron: I started in 1978 with signs in Hawaii. I’ve been using signs - off and on – for over 40 years.
Me: What brought you to Nashville?
Ron: My daughter lives near Nashville, so I try to come here and stay with her for at least two days every week or so. I want to use my time wisely. I believe we are living in a very serious time. I have to be responsible for whatever God has shown me – taught me – in understanding His truth. It’s something I have to do. I lived in South America for twenty-one years, and I came back about four years ago. Since then, I’ve carried signs in various places. I’ve been going to that place where you saw me for about four months. I try to come several times a month, if the wind isn’t too strong.
Me: Do you consider yourself a Prophet?
Ron: No, no. I’ve had different people say I’m a Prophet, but I don’t go around telling people I’m a Prophet.
Me: You said you started your street ministry with signs in 1978. What inspired you to start at that time?
Ron: I came into the faith in 1975. I was influenced by a group called the Children of God. It was a cult that started in Huntington Beach, California in 1968.
Me: Yes, I know it. David Berg, or Moses David, was the leader back in the late 60’s and 70’s.
Ron: Their emphasis was on preaching and evangelism and making disciples. I left the Children of God in 1977. I was living in Samoa with them, and my wife and I had our first child there. We left and went back to Hawaii. She’s Japanese but from Hawaii. I could not jump back into the world of making money, so I started preaching on the streets of Hawaii. I labored on the streets in Hawaii for about three years.
Me: Have you been financially supported by fellow Christians throughout your preaching career, or have you worked?
Ron: I am not supported by others. Very little. I’m not a hireling. That’s my conviction. Most preachers today are hirelings. I want to stay clean about the money. Most religions today are a business, and that’s their downfall. The money. I’m kind of judgemental on that. Not trying to be critical, but that’s what I believe. Presently I just get my Social Security check, and that’s what I live on.
Me: When you left Hawaii, where did you go?
Ron: We moved to Minnesota and lived in a community there called Ben Israel, led by a man named Arthur Katz. They emphasized what they called the Five-fold ministry: Apostle, Prophets, Pastors, Teachers. They weren’t denominational. They were normal, not cultish. They taught some good things. That’s where I first met some Mennonite folks, and I’ve been mostly involved with people of that sort of background all around the world ever since. They teach living holy, they’re god-fearing people. The big megachurches of today I don’t agree with at all. They’re not set up in a biblical way. It’s more personality. They teach a prosperity gospel.
Me: After you left Minnesota, where did you go?
Ron: I did missionary work along the Mexican/Texas border, near Reynosa. After that I moved back to Tennessee with my family. I have nine children. Then I moved to Bolivia where I lived for twenty-one years.
Me: Why did you decide to move to Bolivia?
Ron: When I was living here, my mother, who had been bothering me for years, would say things like “Ron, you have a big family, you can’t save the world.” She said if I would settle down, she would give me my inheritance, and so finally I succumbed to that. I bought a piece of land with an old farmhouse. I lived here for about three years. We’re homeschoolers and not vaccinators. Are you familiar with those types of people?
Me: Yes, yes.
Ron: They’re real targets for Social Services, because you’re not going along with the same line. I had some neighbors who were persecuting me. I was in contact with a family that had moved to Bolivia to do missionary work, so that’s why we went. Why be under the pressure of Social Services if you don’t have to?
Me: So, I guess most of your children grew up in Bolivia.
Ron: Yeah, most of them. And one was born there.
Me: Where are your children now?
Ron: Five are in Hawaii, two are here in Tennessee, one is in Florida, and one is in Holland.
Me: Do they all have families now?
Ron: No. Only two of my children are married and have families.
Me: Are you still married, or are you by yourself now?
Ron: I’m married. To the same woman for forty-four years. But my wife is presently in Bolivia.
Me: You’ve led an interesting life (laugh).
Ron: Yeah, I’ve been a lot of things. I used to be a surfer. I raised horses and played polo. I was a sixties hippy guy, grew marijuana, sold LSD. I’ve lived in Malaysia, in north Australia, worked on a big cattle station there. I’ve been around and done a lot of things.
Me: Do you plan to join your wife in Bolivia?
Ron: She wants to stay there. She’s living in fear of these times. I don’t want to go back there, but she moved there several months ago with one of our daughters. She’s with a lot of friends, but I think I should stay here and try to share the gospel. I don’t know anything else to do but try to warn people and encourage people.
Me: Your signs talk about the Pope and the Vatican and have some pretty harsh words for Catholicism.
Ron: I believe that true believers should warn the Catholics and try to get them to come out of what I say is a strong delusion. I hold to the historical view that many people used to hold, that the Roman Catholic church is the mystery Babylon the Great, the mother of all harlots from the book of Revelation. I also hold to the historical view that the office of the Pope is the anti-Christ. I talk to many Catholics, and I have nothing against Catholic people, but I’m supposed to speak the truth and warn people who have fallen under false teaching.
Me: Have you suffered persecution throughout your street ministry?
Ron: I’ve been beaten, punched, had beer poured on me, eggs thrown at me, (he laughs) but nothing that was too much. I’ve been cursed, threatened.
Me: You’ve been back in Nashville doing your street ministry for a while. What’s the worst thing that’s happened to you here?
Ron: Nothing. Just screaming, yelling.
Me: Do you feel like you’ve converted some folks since you’ve been ministering here in Nashville?
Ron: Uh, no.
Me: It’s got to be a lonely ministry.
Ron: It’s lonely, but I let the scriptures comfort me.
Me: Does your family support you in your ministry, or do some of them disagree with you?
Ron: I only have two of my children that are converted. I have a bunch of them that have backslid. So, yeah, I would love to have more of them support me. I have a good relationship with some of them that are not converted, and some of them I don’t.
Me: Your wife in Bolivia, has she been supportive?
Ron: Oh yeah. She’s more fanatical than me (laughs). I met her through the Children of God. She gave up college to follow Christ when she joined the Children of God.
Me: When you look back on your life, do you feel good about all you’ve done?
Ron: That’s a big question. With my failures with my children, I don’t know, maybe I didn’t spend enough time with them. Maybe I was too spiritually minded, but all of us should have a zeal for God.
Me: You certainly have zeal. You’re out there on the corner, even at 72.
Ron: In the winter I go down to Florida and stay with my daughter in Deerfield Beach. There’s a boardwalk there, and I do my sign ministry by walking the boardwalk slowly on any day that there’s not a lot of wind. It’s a harder environment there. Sometimes it gets a little violent. Very aggressive people there. But I’m okay with that. I don’t live in fear. I’m not into getting hurt, but, you know, I’ve experienced some of that, and I’ve also experienced God’s blessing. I wish there were more brothers and sisters out there testifying, it would be better, but I can’t change that.
Me: Well, I wish you well in your ministry.
Ron: You’ve been a blessing to talk to. Your spirit is great, and encouragement is always good.
In spite of the hateful message of his signs, I like this street preacher. It’s easy for me, and probably most who pass him by, to ridicule him, to be disdainful of his message, to make a caricature of this man. His life and his beliefs are far different from mine, but he didn’t seem filled with hate, or so dogmatic that I would find him repellant after only a brief conversation. He seemed capable of self-reflection and honesty. He’s narrow-minded, but not obtuse. He did not seem paranoid or delusional, only driven and misguided. I could have met him a few decades ago.
When I was a student at the University of Tennessee in the mid-seventies, there were several odd groups that hung around the edges of the campus, including the Children of God. On several occasions I stopped to listen as they preached and panhandled, intrigued by their hippy brand of evangelism. They used the same scriptures that I knew from my fundamentalist upbringing. I wasn’t attracted to them, only curious.
I later learned that they, like most cults, preyed on the young, the vulnerable, those susceptible to a charismatic leader with a message of “trust me, I alone know the truth.” The appeal of being a part of a group that has a mission and accepts those on the fringe seemed to be a certain aphrodisiac to a lost soul or a wanderer down on their luck. The Children of God melded worship of Christ with a ‘60’s-era free love, along with a doomsday message of the coming apocalypse. They believed in group living and zealous proselytizing, and grew to include hundreds of communes, or families.
Members of these communities were usually isolated, as they didn’t work—people who held real-world jobs were called “systemites”—or send their children to school. David Berg, or Moses David as he became known, communicated his wacky theology through “Mo Letters” to the Families. They eventually degenerated into sexual abuse of the female members and the children. Their story has been told by many over the years, including Joaquin Phoenix and Rose McGowan, both who spent part of their early formative years in this cult.
The late sixties and early seventies were tumultuous times of social unrest, fertile ground for charismatic leaders to find followers and form cults. Distrust of government, of big business, and of the establishment was their message, and the gullible swallowed it. Even as their leaders took these groups way off the rails, many of their followers clung to the belief that they were a part of an inside group who really knew the truth. They followed Jim Jones to their poisonous death in the jungle of Guyana. They fought the government alongside David Koresh at Waco until they were consumed by their own flames.
I find troublesome parallels today with cult-like groups such as Q-Anon. We are living in a time of social unrest, of distrust of government and established norms. Charismatic leaders spout that they know the real truth, and they alone can fix what is wrong. They promulgate their gospel from virtual street corners found on Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube. Their followers often seem to discard any fact or reality that does not align with their narrow view of the world. They have found a new community in the alternative reality of conspiracy beliefs.
My hope is that most of these suggestible followers have not totally abandoned all reason. With time, they will recognize these self-serving charlatans for what they are. Slowly, reluctantly, these once true believers will find their way back to a world view based on accepted norms and facts, to a society where the vulnerable are protected, not exploited. And when they do, we must restore them and welcome them back, for that is what a genuine community does.
And for those who stubbornly cling to an alternate view of the world, we must listen to them. Underneath their sign-waving and doomsday prophecy, their hateful message, often lies a soul that longs for real community. Look for that soul. You might find a brother or a sister.