Bible in hand,
Micah Armstrong strides into the middle of a small group
of students at the University of Alabama and starts
preaching.
You're going to
hell if you drink beer, he says. You're going to hell if
you curse. You're going to hell if you smoke dope,
masturbate, fornicate, watch a Hollywood movie, listen
to rap, read Harry Potter books, or attend most
Protestant churches, Armstrong says.
Homosexuals are
hell-bound too, he says. So are women with low-cut tops,
short hair, pants, or jobs.
''Women have two
places: In front of the sink and behind the vacuum,''
Armstrong proclaims.
''Ooh,'' moans
the crowd, now swelled to at least 250 people.
Armstrong springs
forward on one foot, thumping his Bible as he lands.
''Yeee-ah,'' shouts a heckler, mimicking Howard Dean's
campaign scream and dressed like Armstrong with a
low-slung cap, backpack, and suspenders.
And the show goes
on. For four hours.
Known to a
reluctant flock as Brother Micah, Armstrong holds a near
mythic status on college campuses across the eastern United
States. He's spent the last two years visiting a
circuit of 28 schools, preaching a fire-and-brimstone
message of repentance to anyone who will listen.
''If you don't
believe your sin will get you sent to hell, you don't fear
God. If you don't fear God, you don't know God,'' he told
students during a stop last week at Alabama, often
ranked among the nation's top party schools.
Next, Armstrong
says, it's back to the University of Mississippi. He's
also been to Florida State, Cincinnati, Georgia Southern,
Central Florida, North Carolina, and Florida Atlantic,
to name a few.
Armstrong's
harangues sometimes provoke debate, sometimes laughter.
Shouting matches between Armstrong and offended students are
frequent. So are questions -- some serious, some,
well, not so serious.
''Brother Micah,
can God microwave a burrito so hot he can't eat it?'' a
student with dreadlocks called from the crowd.
''Chuck Norris
can!'' someone screeched, prompting a roar.
Micah just kept
preaching.
''You say
sorority girls are whores,'' another guy called from the
throng. ''Is there one in particular I could go to?''
Armstrong paused,
rubbed his face, and kept preaching.
You can question
Armstrong's theology all you want, and many do. Critics
say Brother Micah claims to be sinless and is so focused on
scaring hell out of people that he has forgotten the
things they see in God -- love, forgiveness, charity.
''I'm a pretty
strong believer, and it bothers me that he's out here
turning people away,'' said graduate student Jeremy
Yarbrough, 29.
Armstrong, 40,
and his wife Elizabeth attend a church near Tampa, Fla.,
when they can, but home is a camper. They say a few churches
and supporters fund their open-air preaching, which is
primarily in the Southeast but extends into the
nation's midsection.
''Our whole
purpose is to spread the gospel,'' said Armstrong.
Originally from Louisville, Ky., he was a street
preacher in Miami's South Beach before hitting the
road.
''He's been
everywhere. He's a cult figure,'' said Sally Linder, a
spokeswoman for Ohio University, where Armstrong made a stop
last year.
Armstrong -- who
adopted the name of the biblical prophet Micah -- is
reserved during an interview. He said he's purposely
outrageous at times to draw a crowd, then tones down
the rhetoric, sits down and talks to people.
''People say,
'Oh, they're making fun of you. They're not listening.' But
they do listen,''' Armstrong said.
He's right. Many
in the crowd at Alabama brought Bibles with them,
thumbing through pages to check out verses as he spoke.
Others left discussing faith in a way normally
reserved for religion classes.
A delivery worker
who spent nearly 30 minutes out of his truck listening
to Armstrong said the preacher is at least making people
think, whether they like him or not. ''There's good in
it,'' he said.
Avery Dame
doesn't like Armstrong's message, yet the junior loves what
his visits do for the campus.
''It's the one
time people care about something. He's such a big jerk
everyone kind of unites against him,'' Dame said.
Maybe, but they
love the act.
The crowd
dwindled quickly after Armstrong took a water break and let
a couple of friends preach. Students soon were
chanting ''Micah! Micah!'' and they cheered when he
stepped back atop a small brick wall to resume the
tirade against alcohol, homosexuals ... name it.
''I love you
sinners enough to rebuke you,'' he said. ''I don't want you
to go to hell.'' (AP)