Pacer executive shares first encounter with street preachers, offers advice

Three years ago, I had my first encounter with a radical evangelist who was much like the ones who visited our campus a couple of weeks ago.

On that fall day in 2010, as a freshman who had only been on a college campus for a month, I walked past the UC and heard a man yelling and causing chaos, which made me walk up, stopping my journey to Cooper Hall. For a short time, I simply listened, and finally, I raised my hand, hoping to have an opportunity to look in his eyes and see where he stood. I asked him one question, “Do you feel like you are accomplishing anything?” to which he replied, “Yes, I am spreading the word of God.”

At this point, my anger boiled, and I knew that the God he claimed was not the same one I did, so I spit back at him, “Honestly, you’re just making Christians look terrible.” I got so angry with him that I’m pretty sure I even threw a curse word at him, to which he told me that “with language like that, you’re not a child of God.” In response, I screamed at him, “Don’t tell me what I am,” and I stormed off to my dorm room and cried to my roommate, not understanding why such hate could exist, especially under the title Christian, which I claim.

Little did I know, that sad experience that showed me the ugliness of the world would also open the door to one of the most beautiful things I know: the written word. After that experience, I attended a Pacer meeting as a new writer and spoke for the first time in meeting, suggesting doing a column on the experience I had with the evangelist, to which the editor looked at me and said yes. I wrote on the First Amendment, on how freedom to speak doesn’t mean you should speak and how as a nation, we should be careful how we use our words.

For that evangelist, I know he probably went home that week and nothing changed. But for me, my whole world changed, because I began the journey of falling in love with a publication, which now ends with me being Executive Editor of that publication. Even though the day of my conversation with him ended in tears, the next day ended in a smile, because I got to utilize my voice.

The article ended up being great, especially for a freshman. But more importantly, it taught me that if you want to make a difference, yelling at the enemy doesn’t change the game. It’s taking lessons from those moments and utilizing opportunities to be a positive force in the world that really makes a difference. The radicals can yell all they want and make the news and stir up a reaction, but in the end, it’s the quiet love, the enduring dedication of those in the shadows that wins.

And now, three years down the road, feeling the full circle come around as I’m completing my senior year, I don’t feel anger towards these people anymore. The truth is, while we think if we only respond to them angrily enough times that they’ll come around, they won’t. It’s counterproductive, because it fuels their misguided sense of righteousness.

So, here’s my proposal: instead of yelling at these people, let’s take our energy elsewhere, preferably in a positive direction. Take your concerns to the paper by writing or making art or vent to a friend and have an intellectual conversation about it. It’s when that energy is taken elsewhere that we don’t give them the satisfaction and we accept that in the end, it is love that wins.