The name of the man who has attracted tens of thousands even on rain-soaked days – Luis Palau – is not yet a household one, a fact his festival's volunteers lightheartedly note. But millions of people in dozens of countries follow Palau – an important evangelical Christian presence, particularly with the Rev. Billy Graham now gone from the public stage.
Palau, 72, idolizes Graham and is among the few successfully organizing mass rallies in the way the elder minister once did, albeit with modern twists of everything from heavy metal musicians to motocross riders.
His beliefs are familiar Christian ideals. But he has refused to make the fiery issues of homosexuality and abortion major topics at his pulpit, and the divisive politics that typically accompany such issues – and have become associated with evangelicals in general – centerpieces of his campaign.
"In my work, we love everybody, we speak to everybody and we want to be above petty divisions. We want people to know what we're for, not what we're against," he said. "Some among us have made such a noise about two particular issues that people don't perceive that there's much more to it. I seek to activate the conscience, but it's not my duty to be the one who points the finger implying I'm holier than you."
The minister's reluctance to enter the political fray, his focus on God's love and a hesitance to mention his wrath, has earned Palau some critics who dismiss his sermons as a feel-good, diluted brand of Christianity. He dismisses them.
"In some circles they think that swinging a bat and hitting them over the head is not watered down," Palau said. "It may not come over as swinging like a bat but it's plain and clear that sin is wrong."
The message evidently is connecting. More than 25 million people have turned out to hear him speak, hundreds of millions have listened to him on radio and TV, copies of his nearly 50 books have been translated into dozens of languages.
Jeffery Sheler, the author of "Believers: A Journey Into Evangelical America," said it remains to be seen whether Palau's approach will continue to be embraced in the years ahead.
"Some people suggest that maybe the day of mass evangelism is over," he said. "I think what Palau and some of the others are doing is sort of a transition."
Last month in Tampa, where about 140,000 people turned out over two days, organizers spent about $2.8 million to host Palau's rally. BMX riders flipped in the air, people in vegetable costumes told Bible stories and children played carnival games and got their faces painted. On the main stage, the bleached-blond host wore torn blue jeans and piercings in both ears and above his chin and introduced musical acts to throngs of shouting, jumping, fist-pumping audience members.
One of the singers, TobyMac, told the crowd he was inspired to write one of his songs after seeing "The Passion of the Christ." Before another song, he screamed, "We got any Jesus freaks in Tampa, Florida?" The fog from shrieking fans' mouths filled the air on that unseasonably cold night.
