Pretending to Be Druggies and Prostitutes For God
My Christian college’s idea of evangelism
Have you heard of Christian “hell houses”? These Halloween attractions are similar to a walk-through haunted house, but with Christian scenarios of sin and resulting punishment dramatized to scare viewers into turning toward Jesus.
Well, in 2001, my Christian college said “Hold my Bible” and came up with something even crazier and more offensive.
All in the name of spreading the “good news” of Christ.
Each year, Biola University in Southern California held “Missions Week” in March. This clipping from the yearbook boasts that the event is the “world’s largest student-run missions conference.”
As I argued in previous articles, Evangelical Christians LOVE to put on theatrical performances.
So, to put some razzle-dazzle into the conference, the Student Missionary Union devised a walk-through encounter. The encounter featured live, dramatized scenes depicting regions around the world.
The interactive missions “attraction” supposedly allowed the spectator to see the spiritual needs of different places first-hand. The spectator, after walking through each room and witnessing each scene, then prayed for God’s blessings on that country in material and spiritual ways.
My roommates and I signed up to perform in the “Amsterdam” room.
Because nothing says Christian missionary work like xenophobia and techno music!
Our team leader Sarah shared why this particular city required Christian missionary work.
“Amsterdam is a city in the Netherlands where sin is rampant. Amsterdam is most famous for its Red Light District, where prostitution is legal. The city legalized drugs including marijuana, so people are high all the time. There is also a notorious nightlife in Amsterdam, including dance clubs that promote homosexuality.”
A titter went through our group.
“Through our dramatic scene, we will shine a light on their sins so that Christians will pray for them and maybe even go into missions work there to spread the gospel.”
Sounds good to me! Only the night before, our dorm RA told us to turn down the music because we were playing Sunchyme by Dario G way too loud. Not to brag, but I knew how to party.
We set up our Amsterdam street and club scene in a classroom. Sarah placed us in various roles. A tall guy got the part of Gay Bartender, a short guy got the part of Gay Club Dancer, and a guy with a goatee got the part of Pimp/Drug Dealer.
Melanie snagged the role of Prostitute and Nicole and I played Partiers. Others filled in the street and club as General Amsterdam Sinners.
“We need to create the atmosphere of a nightclub,” Sarah said.
After some brainstorming, we covered the windows with black trash bags to block out the sunlight. A black-light and one of those cheesy multi-colored spinning ball lights materialized. The large teacher’s desk turned into a bar.
Fully committed to verisimilitude at this point, we created props for the scene. Sarah brought plastic baggies and we filled some with sugar (cocaine) and some with Italian seasoning (pot). Rolled-up pieces of paper transformed into cigarettes and joints.
After distributing glow sticks for an authentic nightclub-vibe final touch, Sarah brought up the next order of business:
Costumes!
The short guy raised his hand high. “I have the cutest pair of black leather pants. But I also have these awesome white bell bottoms. Can I do a costume change halfway through the day?”
Tall guy said in a deep bass voice, “I bet my girlfriend has a shirt I can borrow.”
A girl playing a General Sinner said, “How short can our skirts be? You know, for accuracy?”
Goatee said, “I think pimps wear a lot of rings. Does anyone have rings I could borrow?”
And just like that, we were off.
Nicole and I raided our closets to find clothing to portray “Dance Club Partiers One and Two.” Just what does one wear to demonstrate the spiritual depravity of Amsterdam?
I chose a relatively tame outfit consisting of a pink tank top and black pants. Nicole was more adventurous, wearing a yellow tank top with a sassy lavender wig.
Melanie’s “Prostitute” costume consisted of a blue tank top and black skirt with a 70s-style shiny brown leather jacket which she provocatively slid down on one side to reveal her shoulder.
As promised, the short guy wore black leather (very tight) pants. He accented the pants with a black belt covered in silver medallions. On top, he wore a black skin-tight lace tank top, a gaudy gold chain, and sunglasses.
The tall guy did indeed borrow a shirt from his girlfriend: a bright red, ribbed mock turtleneck. The girlfriend also helpfully painted his fingernails.
When the day of the Biola University missions conference walk-through experience arrived, we arranged ourselves in our predetermined spots and waited for the first group of audience members to come through.
Sarah hit the music and lights, and a thumping techno beat came on. As the colored lights spun, she opened the door, and the first group of about six students walked down our Amsterdam “street” wide-eyed and clutching their missions conference programs.
As they walked by, our “Pimp/Drug Dealer” approached one of the male students and opened his jacket to reveal the prop drugs.
“Need anything, man? I got crack, weed, anything you want.”
The student, unsure if he should be interacting with the performers, awkwardly kept moving.
Melanie, as a Prostitute, moved to the student and recited her practiced line:
“Hey, I’m for sale.”
In the dance club section, Nicole and I sprung to life. We danced and yelled the excited “woo!” of happy partiers. We raised our bottles high and passed the prop baggies back and forth to show our evangelical triple-threat sins: drinking, drugs, AND dancing.
The short guy danced and made seductive motions toward the bartender. The bartender, in reply, poured him another drink as he danced, too.
The spectators walked by stunned as if they had never seen the inside of a club (which was very possible).
As the group finally exited out the side door and into the next room, we waited for the door to close. When it did, Sarah flipped on the overhead lights and stopped the music.
We all gave a cheer and started complimenting each other. “That was so fun!” “Did you see their faces?” “Oh my gosh, we were so convincing!”
There wasn’t too much time for congratulations, though, because Sarah signaled to us that the next group of audience members was ready to come through. We repeated the routine again.
As each group of students and faculty walked through, we refined our performance. Nicole and I choreographed a whole slew of dance moves. We interacted with the other dancers and the bartender.
We figured out the precise moment to toss the bag of “weed” to each other over the audience’s heads for a truly immersive experience.
Group after group walked through and witnessed the imagined depravity of Amsterdam before their very eyes. Outside the attraction, clusters of students held hands and prayed for God to save the poor sinners from their lives of evil.
The missions walk-through experience was quite a hit, and word spread across campus to go visit the attraction, especially the “very real” Amsterdam room.
Most of the audience members walking through the room gawked at us in horror. These were very conservative Christian young people who would never be caught dead dancing, drinking, doing drugs, or being gay.
In fact, Biola University explicitly forbade all those things in the Student Code of Conduct. But under the pretense of “embodying the globe’s spiritual needs,” we could “sin” all we wanted.
Folks, if I didn’t live through it, I wouldn’t believe it either. I think back and want to scream, “Who gave this the green light??”
Twenty-year-old naive Christians might be excused for creating something so offensive and misdirected. But a whole slew of faculty members and deans signed off on this idea. I cannot believe we were wasting our time pretending to “preach the gospel.”
Make no mistake: the performances in the missions conference walk-through experience demonstrated racism and xenophobia.
To top it off, there was a Cuba room next door to ours. The Cuba room attempted to portray the evils of a communist government.
In reality, four Mexican students sat around a table playing cards, “smoking” fake cigars, and wearing fedoras. Do with that what you will.
Is it possible that somewhere in Amsterdam that very day a group of college students performed a skit pretending to be self-righteous Americans, blind to their own crippling exceptionalism?
I highly doubt it.
As is the case in much evangelical missionary work, we — the ignorant Christians — were the ones who needed saving all along.
