Barring No Place

Barring No Place

Profane Evangelism

By Mark Van Houten 

(Pages 84-88)

Many Christians view bars as the antithesis of the church. What they don't realize is that by deciding not to set foot in a bar, they make it easier for unbelievers to reach a similar resolve—not to set foot in a church. What these Christians don't realize is that bars are excellent places for them to exhibit God's presence in every aspect of life. I have seen more people come to a saving faith in Jesus Christ in bars than anywhere else. I emphasize that these barroom conversations were not drunken commitments; the conversions of which I speak were all sober commitments made only after serious and relatively long-term shepherding into discipleship.

It seems that bars fill a serious human need in our fragmented, mobile, anonymous society that thirsts for fellowship, and so a bar is very able to quench more than one kind of thirst. I firmly believe that the church is the only other neighborhood organization in a position to compete with the bar. Or, what's better, rather than competing with it, the church should take advantage of the bar. Let the bar owners cover the utility costs and provide the refreshments. Going to the bar will illustrate that God is truly sovereign in all areas of life. Unlike so many Christians, God does not stop at the tavern door; God is present in bars also. I've had my greatest evangelistic successes there.

Often, people who frequent bars think they have their place, and God has His place—in a church, not a bar. This is why so many people get angry when they see a minister in a bar. They think God has failed them, so they have given up on God and no longer want anything to do with Him. So what right, they ask angrily, does this minister have to bring God back into their lives?

That was just the way Loretta viewed things. I have known Loretta ever since I began ministry in Uptown. Initially, Loretta made great strides toward faith in Jesus and discipleship. Within six months, however, Loretta experienced the brutal murder of her fiancé and a close friend. A third friend was viciously stabbed with a knife. Loretta herself was the victim of a number of violent acts, and finally, her only daughter was raped. All these tragedies led Loretta to feel that powers outside the influence of God had jinxed her. She began to drink heavily, and after the fatal shooting of her fiancé, she was very close to a mental breakdown.

I counseled Loretta for some time, and during these sessions, she brought up other incidents from the more distant past involving the violent deaths of friends. One of these incidents occurred when Loretta was only five. She and her best friend were swinging in a neighborhood park, and after swinging as high as they could, they would jump from the swing and land in the sand below. Then disaster struck. Once, after jumping from the swing, Loretta's friend failed to dodge the wildly swinging wooden seat, and it hit her full force in the forehead. The girl fell, bleeding into a coma, never to recover. It was a freak accident, and it could easily have happened to Loretta. Yet Loretta never came to grips with the incident. For 35 years, she had subconsciously held on to the blame, and periodically, it came back to haunt her. As others around her began to die or get hurt in incidents that were even more clearly not her fault, she continued to pile guilt upon guilt on herself, feeling that nothing could relieve her of her guilt.

Loretta decided to try to exorcise her guilt feelings through drinking, but the alcohol only deepened her mental anguish. Loretta became chronically absent-minded and suicidal. Things got so bad that, at one point, while in a trance-like state, she set her apartment on fire to punish herself, as if in a haze. Nothing I told Loretta seemed to penetrate her despair, so I listened to her at length with all the professional listening skills I could muster. This interaction could only have taken place in a bar because, except for her apartment, the bar was the only place she could be found. At this point, she still felt no absolution, so I took what I could get, trying to help her cope with her responsibility for the tragedies that had befallen her friends. Loretta began to stabilize mentally and had been improving when another boyfriend was brutally knifed and nearly killed in her presence. To make matters worse, in Loretta's mind, the attack had been intended for her. Her boyfriend had thrown himself into harm's way to save her life.

After that, Loretta really went off the deep end. The next time I saw her, she was in the Time Out Lounge. She said sadly and drunkenly, "I believed you, Mark. I counted on you and your prayers. You let me down." Loretta was in no condition for counseling, and I probably should have held my tongue, but I said anyway, "I know it is all my fault that your boyfriend got stabbed." Loretta's reply was predictable, "No, no, it's my fault. I know it's all my fault."

Loretta had obviously regressed, and there was no point in doing or saying any more that night. I asked some friends whom we had in common to keep a close watch on her for the next 24 hours so I could come up with a new approach. Finally, I decided to try some reality therapy. The next time she was sober and I was with her, which happened to be the following day at about the same time, I entered the bar, sat down, ordered a Coke, and asked Loretta how she was feeling. I could have guessed her answer.

"Plan B is now or never," I told myself. Then I said, "Loretta, I need to say some things to you that I believe you will find helpful, though painful. All I need are 200 uninterrupted minutes of your undivided attention."

Loretta skeptically consented. We moved to a corner of the bar, and I began to try to exorcise her guilt. "Loretta, you are not a jinx," I began. "There has not been one death of one friend of yours your whole life long for which you are responsible. Clearly, the death of your childhood friend was an accident. As for all the others, it is not at all, by any stretch of the imagination, who you are that has caused the death of so many of your loved ones, but rather where you are. Let's face it, woman, you live and work in a very violent neighborhood. The police records themselves show this to be one of the most crime-ridden neighborhoods in Chicago. I apologize for not saying this sooner, and what I'm about to say is brutally honest, but I have to say it because I love you and I think it will help you to see reality a little more accurately for what it is. You not only live in a violent neighborhood, but for some reason, you tend to hang around a lot of loony tunes, further multiplying the odds that someone you fall in love with will be hurt or killed. Those who live and act like fools around here—you've seen it so many times yourself—also die like fools. It is not you, Loretta, it's them."

I felt so inadequate. Without the grace of God, my words would have been worthless, so I asked God to bless my feeble attempt to help. Bless it He did. Loretta has been back to her normal self ever since, and this despite the death of her first grandchild due to sudden infant death syndrome. Loretta has taken a new job, moved out of Uptown, and is dating more civilized men. God was exhibited in the place where Loretta most dearly needed Him. In fact, God was not merely exhibited in the bars Loretta frequented; He was also present with Loretta there. I thank God that, although many people who frequent bars will never darken the door of a church, He will leave the ninety-nine and enlighten the one sitting at a booth in a bar. And if the bar is good enough for God, it is good enough for me.