Joe Boyd's no stranger to working a crowd.
The Galveston native and former Texas A&M defensive tackle claimed the attention of sold-out stadiums in the late 1930s, collecting All-American honors and a national championship ring.Thursday, a small but no less frenzied crowd gathered beneath a blue-and-white striped revival tent stretched across a West Valley parking lot. All eyes focused on the 78-year-old man many just call "Brother Joe."
"If the devil can't get your soul, he'll try to get your life of service to the Lord," shouts Boyd, prompting a chorus of animated "amens" and "That's right, preacher."
"Hate sin and hate the devil," belts the silver-haired Texan, enlisting a rich drawl and stamping the floor.
Following a 90-minute sermon flavored with high-pitched hellfire and humor, Boyd leads believers in prayer. The evangelist then invites folks to come to the microphone to testify and "brag on the Lord," while others dressed in robes are to be baptized in the open-air font.
Add one more day to Brother Joe's 52-year-old ministry.
Boyd's celebrated glories on the gridiron have long since surrendered to the day-to-day task of saving souls under an old-fashioned revival tent.
"God's been good to me," he said after a recent service, resting on one of the collapsible green benches that make up his traveling church.
The preacher's quick to credit his prayerful mother for foiling her son's once "sinful life."
"I was drafted by the Washington Redskins after college, but I couldn't continue football because of a neck injury, so I became a career man," said Boyd, whose soft-spoken manner away from the pulpit belies his brimstone messages. "Because of my mother's prayers I learned about forgiveness, resigned from my career and enrolled at Southwestern Seminary in Fort Worth."
In the nomadic spirit of Charles Finney and Dwight Moody, Boyd became an evangelist to "spread the good news that Christ has died for our sins and that all can go to heaven."
The devil, he adds, is but one of many enemies engaging his ministry. City zoning laws often restrict tent revivals, forcing believers to pull up stakes long before sermons begin.
"We've had to occasionally move on during our travels because some people just don't want the word to be preached," said Boyd.
Thursday's gathering attracted a varied crowd. Well-dressed elderly folks sat between teens sporting Golden State Warrior jerseys. A few admitted to being "revival regulars," while first-timers were welcomed by worshippers lining the tent's edge.
After joining in spirited hymns like "Just As I Am," Boyd admonished his audience to study the Bible and warned of the Last Days, his voice reverberating with each recited scripture. A heckler drove by and shouted a snide "Hallelujah," but the unflappable evangelist remained loyal to his sermon.
"I want to show you how to get to heaven," Boyd said, turning to Proverbs 11:30. "I want to get every soul saved that I can."
Calls to salvation led to several baptisms before folks filed slowly from the tent, many already anticipating the following day's service.
Boyd's nightly 7 p.m. tent revivals are scheduled through July 30 at 2700 West and 4100 South on land he's renting from a private party.