Palau's answers

Andrew Gimson

What more irritating subject than reli- gion? Those not provoked to rage by the mere mention of it, will very soon be annoyed if they think you are being too frivolous or pious, or making mistakes, in its discussion. The poster I saw of the evangelist Luis Palau on the tube was rather annoying. He resembled a clean-cut com- pany chairman. Leaning on the back of a padded leather chair in his boardroom, he announced that he had 'relevant Christian answers for today's world at QPR stadium', and would give them to you free every night at eight o'clock. The word `relevant' is a word used by charlatans, a superfluous word. Most of the best things in the world could equally well be called irrelevant, but nobody would advertise them so.

Emerging from White City tube (for a devout friend had by accident led me to suppose that Palau might turn out to be a great entertainer, and I had decided to go and see him anyhow), I asked the way to QPR. 'Follow the crowd,' the ticket collec- tor said. I put on my glasses and saw a yellow AA sign, a stream of people vanishing round a corner, and coaches be- ing driven past which said 'Follow us to hear Louis Palau at QPR' in their rear win- dows. I followed them down South Africa Road, past the Springbok pub, the Jolly Launderette, and the premises of A. S. Vig, grocer. At the stadium there were two en- trances, one for 'counsellors who have been briefed already', the other for 'new counsellors who have not checked in before'. Neither seemed appropriate. A steward told me I had to go round into Lof- tus Road, where I passed through a turn- stile which said 'Home Supporters Only'.

My attention was immediately distracted by a book stall. I take a keen interest in the titles of religious books, and had time to jot down three, My beautiful feeling, Lord let me give you a million dollars, and The Christian and emotional problems, before an assistant asked if he could belp.

`Yes,' I said, remembering one of my favourite titles. `Do you by any chance have What of the unevangelised? ? I saw the name once in the back of a book about prayer.'

`I'm afraid not,' he said, 'but why don't

you try Tough Questions by Luis Palau?'

He brought me a copy. I glanced at the table of contents, which listed 29 tough questions, and realised that I held in my hands a classic. Literary men spend years composing intricate novels and do nothing half as good as Palau's Questions. It deserves a celebrity as great as Paley's Evidences. The first question is: `Mr Palau, what do you do to keep from getting bored with your wife? I have been married for ten years and, frankly, my wife bores me.' Other problems include: 'Should I carry on a relationship with my boyfriend? He drinks heavily', 'My business is going downhill. I'm virtually bankrupt', 'My job bores me terribly', 'I often think about committing suicide', and 'My brother is caught up in one of the cults'. I began to feel less sceptical about Palau's claim to relevance, and wanted at once to start reading his answers, to see if they maintain- ed the standard of the questions. But trumpet music, a wedding march, was swelling out of the stadium: fearful of arriv- ing late, I joined a queue to get in.

The whole of the stand along the south side of the ground was full. I found one of the last seats, next to a meek-looking girl.

`Is anyone sitting here?' I asked.

`Nobody except you,' she said, which disconcerted me slightly. I looked around. Sunshine slanted into our eyes over the west stand. It was a perfect evening, warm but not sultry. High above I saw swifts. I notic- ed that my neighbour was reading, not a devotional work such as the Questions, but Down and Out in Paris and London.

On the opposite side of the ground, a platform had been erected ready for Palau. Behind it sat rows of dignitaries. Behind them, a large choir was singing. Their blithe hymn was broadcast to us through loud- speakers. A presenter came forward, and in an immensely confident voice — everyone was immensely confident — opened the evening. Tonight was family night. He in- troduced the great man. Palau came for- ward. His rich, hispanic voice for some reason reminded me — I have a bad ear for these things — of the accent people put on to tell Jewish jokes. 'How's the choir?' he said. A great roar went up from the choir. `How many of you are here for the first time?' he asked the 6,805 (official figure) of us ranged opposite him. We waved our pro; grammes. 'Fantastic. You are so welcome, boomed his voice through the speakers. How many of us, he demanded, had come because a friend or 'maybe even your mother-in-law' invited you? 'Mother-in- law' raised an unworthy laugh. He an- nounced that his mission to London was going to go on for an extra fortnight. A poll showed that 95 per cent of Londoners had heard of it. Half of these said that if asked individually, they would come to QPR. `The other half were quite antagonistic. Forget about them.' We had a musical interlude, played by the Salvation Army from the Ilford Citadel. The girl who had been reading Down and Out got up and left, just when I was going

to inquire whether it was an 0 level set book. Everyone else stayed. The treasurer made an appeal (to the Christians, not to their guests) for funds, seven or eight pounds each, the least one would spend on another night out. 'Let's get this mission absolutely totally solvent to the glory of God,' he said. The sun sank behind a bank of cloud which spread across the sky like grey marble on a field of palest blue, gleam- ing silver and gold at the edges. A guitarist came on the sing 'a song which I think all of us ought to be able to relate to.' Act suc- ceeded act with brilliant professionalism. I saw a man a little to the left of me stand up, waving his hands and contorting his face; wondered if he was in a religious ecstasy, and realised that he was an interpreter for the deaf. A man of upright expression look- ed at me in a dubious way, afraid I wasn't taking it seriously. Palau read and preached on Genesis iii. He described how Satan got Eve alone and caused her to question God's word. 'There are even today some theologians who are Satan's hissers,' he said, and reminded us that 'scoffers will come scoffing because of their own lusts.' Anyone who mocked the Bible was covering up for lust. England and Germany put out more people who attack- ed the Bible than any countries he knew. We either got back to the word of God or society would fall apart. He worked round to our sinfulness: 'Is there a load of guilt on Your conscience tonight?' God was going to remind you of 21 June 1984. 'Come clean to the Lord tonight,' he urged.

He quoted the famous verse used. in so many conversions, Revelation in 20, `Behold, I stand at the door, and knock ...', and appealed to us to come forward. 'Come now, no matter what your age or marriage status.' The lights went up on the choir, which began to sing. Four Young girls went out onto QPR's artificial turf, a wheelchair was being taken forward, from all parts of the stand people began to converge on the the evangelist's podium. Near to me a small black boy began calling out, "I want to go over there': to his great delight his mother took him. 'I feel there are some up there who have resisted the word of the Lord,' Palau said. 'The Lord loves to see people confess him.' That night 407 people confessed the Lord. Each one was allocated a counsellor.

Walking back to the tube, I met Reuben, a Malaysian banking student. He had been to hear Palau 15 times, and thought two- thirds of those there were regulars like himself. We were exhilarated by the even- ing. 'Perhaps everyone will become Chris- tian,' Reuben laughed happily. 'We'll all be smiling at each other.'

`It was a very good evening,' I said. 'I think even some people who weren't Chris- tians would enjoy it. And Christians like me who aren't used to Luis's style of things.'

In the train I saw another advertisement which began: 'People learn to meditate for bother different reasons .. I didn't 9other to read about that, but turned impa- tiently to study Palau's answers.