Man With A Message
Published: Nov 19, 2006
Who is Luis Palau, and why are so many people talking about his upcoming visit to Tampa?
"He's probably the most effective, least-known evangelist out there," says Ole Anthony, founder of the Dallas-based Trinity Foundation, a nonprofit group that investigates religious fraud and routinely skewers high-profile preachers. "Everything I know about him is above reproach.
"I've got nothing but the highest things to say about him. And for me, that's unusual."
In March, Argentine-born Palau will bring his free, two-day festival that caters to young people and families to the grounds surrounding Raymond James Stadium, and the Tampa Bay area will get a close-up look at the man called the "Latino Billy Graham."
Although still not a household name in the United States, where he is a longtime citizen, Palau's credentials show his international influence: He has spoken in 70 countries to more than 21 million people, hosts a radio broadcast heard on 2,100 stations in 43 countries and has written 53 books.
Fluent in Spanish and English, he travels more than 200,000 miles a year so he can "share Christ's message of hope in a troubled world in these troubled times." No matter the venue, Palau keeps his words practical and biblically based, laced with humor and his own brand of Latin passion. He steers clear of politics and doctrinal differences, focusing instead on core Christian values.
People are listening. If crowds here mirror those in other festival cities in recent years - from nearly 1 million in Buenos Aires, Argentina, to 300,000 in Fort Lauderdale - the event could be this area's biggest Christian gathering in history.
The Message
Traditional, it's not. Forget church choirs singing old-time hymns and endless rounds of sermonizing by men in suits. At 71 and a grandfather of 10, that's the arena where Palau admits he's more comfortable. He likes John Calvin and gospel standards. But he knows that's not where a spiritually disconnected younger generation wants to be.
Palau's mantra is: "You don't change the message; you change the delivery system." So since 1999, four to six times a year, he comes to a city by invitation only with a festival that fuses old-time religion with 21st-century culture: skateboarders and BMX riders, a lineup of top Christian rock acts, a children's interactive play land, local star athletes and a food court.
Collection baskets are nowhere in sight; corporate sponsors and individual supporters ante up the money to cover costs. Palau doesn't charge a fee.
He says it still amazes him that when he speaks, young people break away from festival activities and listen to "an old guy."
"Think of it as a Christian Woodstock," says Scott Thumma, sociologist of religion at Hartford Seminary in Connecticut. "It's soft-sell evangelism, with Luis Palau working more as a behind-the-scenes promoter rather than the main attraction."
The Tampa Festival
Two years in planning, the Tampa event has a $3 million budget and is backed by more than 400 churches, from Catholic to Southern Baptist. Alison Tutwiler, a vice president at the Bank of Florida, says she didn't know anything about Palau when she was asked to work on the fundraising committee. But now that she has met him and done her research, she is enthusiastic about the festival and the man behind it.
"He's a perfect blend of power and humility, who has this amazing way of meeting people where they're at," Tutwiler says. "The fact that no one knows him is a tribute to him. He's making God famous, not himself."
About 11,000 volunteers will be trained over the next four months, and another committee is finalizing several compassionate outreach efforts, such as free hearing aids for needy seniors and backpacks with school supplies for migrant children.
Tim Seneff, president of CNL Financial Group in Orlando, served as co-chairman of the Palau festival that came to his city in April, drawing more than 80,000 people. He calls the evangelist "one of the coolest people on the planet."
"He's real, open and honest, and he can articulate ideas of faith in a unique, simple way," Seneff says. "He's got the gift of being able to connect to all people, no matter their age."
But the real benefit of the festival, Seneff says, is what happens when it's over. Relationships that developed across denominations in planning the event continue today, with churches still working together to improve the Orlando area. Among the projects: a large food drive for the poor and some 100 homes repaired by volunteers.
"It can transform a community," he says. "We got bonded emotionally and spiritually through this. People are so busy these days and are starved for community. The festival gave that to us."
Early Influences
Palau is the kind of man who carries a tie in his pocket, just in case.
"Do I need to wear this?" he asks when meeting a reporter and photographer at a downtown Tampa church. When assured he doesn't have to don neckwear, he seems relieved. Palau has grown accustomed to a more casual appearance. Leading open-air festivals heavy on entertainment has changed his perspective.
"God never said you needed robes, ties and suits to worship him," Palau says. "What's more important is joy, spirit and mood. Some churches get it, and they adapt to the culture. The ones that don't get it are dying."
He was born in Buenos Aires in 1934, one of seven children of a successful construction businessman. The family was affluent and could afford to send Palau to a British-run boarding school. But when he was 10, his dad died unexpectedly after a nine-day bout with bronchial pneumonia. He was just 34.
"That molded my whole view of life, eternity, death and the future," Palau recalls. "It made me think deep thoughts as a boy because suddenly my dad is gone and he's never coming back."
His dad was a former Catholic who converted to evangelical Protestantism. In his final hours, he assured his family that he was "going home to heaven to be with Jesus" and not to be afraid. That was comforting to the young Palau, who decided then to surrender his life to Christ.
At age 17, he got more serious about his faith decision, buying a new Bible to symbolize his commitment. He taught Sunday school at his home church and preached on street corners with a megaphone. He got his own radio program at age 19.
"The lesson I learned early on was you don't have to wait until you grow up to serve Christ. It's something I tell the young people today," he says.
Palau spent seven years in the banking business, but his heart was in evangelism. After hearing an on-fire Billy Graham preach on a shortwave radio broadcast, he decided to come to the United States to learn from the best. At age 26, with a financial gift from an Argentine businessman, he entered the Multnomah Biblical Seminary in Portland, Ore., where he fell in love with another student. He and Patricia, now married 45 years, have four grown sons and live in a modest suburban home outside Portland, where his ministry is based.
In Graham's Footsteps
In 1962, Palau volunteered to help with Graham's crusade in Fresno, Calif., where he did Spanish interpretations and scribbled enough notes to fill three volumes of tips and material on how to run such a mega-event. The famous evangelist took notice of the industrious Palau.
What do you want to do with the rest of your life, he asked.
"I want to have crusades just like yours," Palau promptly replied.
"I copied Mr. Graham shamelessly from the beginning," he admits. "Some of my earliest messages were his. I memorized them. I knew the Gospel, but he did it so well."
Their relationship flourished as they crossed paths on the international scene. In 1978, after Palau's ordination into ministry, extensive church planting efforts in Latin America, and a growing preaching presence in overseas stadiums and arenas, Graham gave Palau $100,000 in seed money to fund his new Portland-based evangelistic association. He also placed one of his own close friends on Palau's independent board of directors.
The money - "worth about $1 million today," he says - definitely helped. But the endorsement was even more important. Palau says he has honored that trust by maintaining high ethical standards for himself and his organization, a charter member of the Evangelical Council for Financial Accountability. His compensation package is public record - $125,000 in salary, a $50,000 housing allowance, use of a car and medical benefits.
A. Larry Ross, Graham's spokesman for 26 years, says Graham doesn't give endorsements without proven merit. Palau's biblical knowledge, his ability to keep his message relevant with the times and his commitment to reach a generation that is outside the church "must have made an impression on Dr. Graham."
"Luis is like the Energizer Bunny," Ross says. "That's something the kids can relate to. And he hasn't compromised in his commitment to running a clean, efficient ministry. He's proven himself a great role model."
For personal accountability, Palau meets regularly with local businessmen for peer and spiritual support. His main indulgences: reading, family cookouts and a good, juicy steak, cooked medium.
Trinity Foundation's Anthony says Palau's determination to remain scandal-free has paid off. In 30 years, "we've never gotten a complaint about him" on the agency's hot line.
"The only negative thing I hear is that he's too inclusive in his ministry," Anthony says. "And that's a bad thing?"
Last month, Palau engaged in some payback for Graham's generosity. He sponsored his first Innovative Evangelism Conference in Portland, drawing about 300 men and women to form a "Next Generation Alliance." Although he still has the energy and health of someone half his age, Palau knows the importance of grooming new evangelical leaders.
"If I can help someone the way I was helped, I'm going to do it," he says.
Heritage Helps
Although Palau's reach has gone far beyond his Spanish-speaking followers, Tampa businessman and festival committee member Eddie Calcines says the evangelist's heritage makes it easier to recruit Hispanic churches to get involved.
"Luis Palau is one of our own," Calcines says. "He's very proud of being an American, but he doesn't forget his roots. And with the strong evangelical movement going on here, we're getting a great response.
"This could end up being the biggest and best show ever in the Tampa Bay area."
Palau leaves the attendance numbers to the local organizers, who work closely with the half-dozen staff members who relocate here in the year before the festival. Serving as local chairman is Ed Kobel, president and chief operating officer of Debartolo Development, who first heard Palau 25 years ago in Colorado Springs. He never forgot the minister's contagious enthusiasm and his clarity in relating what Jesus is for, not against.
When Kobel and his wife moved here three years ago, he started meeting with local church, business and city leaders to see whether there was support for a Tampa area Palau festival. He found it, tenfold.
"People are getting real excited," Kobel says, "even though some still don't know much about him. When they do, they're going to see a man who has a unique anointing to bring some peace and love to these tumultuous times."
Palau doesn't mind cruising just below the radar screen. He says the glory goes to God, not him, and he's content with sharing center stage with the entertainers and athletes at the festival. When it's his turn to preach, there won't be any surprises.
Same message, different delivery.
"Years ago, I remember some church elders telling a musician to stop playing a contemporary song on his guitar during a service. I remember thinking, 'Please, Lord, don't let me get like those old timers.'
"Well, now I'm old, and I've got to keep my promise."
Reporter Michelle Bearden can be reached at (813) 259-7613 or