Rebel for Christ
By Richard Buffum, Los Angeles Times, California
December 6, 1968, North America
The Rev. David Berg, 49, adviser to the controversial Light Club Teens for Christ of Huntington Beach, has flowing gray hair, a mellifluous voice and a strong, yet ethereal face. He appears well qualified to minister to a flock of adoring old ladies.
Instead to borrow phrases from his congregation of young hippie types, he and his evangelist family (originally from Mingus, Texas) have another bag.
They’re where it’s at. They dig the alienated, confused teenagers, the physical and spiritual dropouts from our over-heated society.
In a sparsely furnished store building on Main St., a few steps from the Huntington Beach pier, I met three lightly bearded youths. They were crouched on the floor around a low, round oaken table. They were diligently studying Bibles and taking notes.
This, a battered, garish room vaguely reminiscent of a giant Japanese teahouse, is the temple of the crusading evangelists of Teens for Christ. They assumed control of the storefront mission several months ago after aiding its predecessor, Teen Challenge, for five months.
According to one member, Teen Challenge vacated in frustration because it couldn’t reach the motley alienated hippies. The factual basis for this claim is unimportant.
What is important is that a hard-sell zeal resembling that of early Christians seems to permeate the Teens for Christ mission—along with the odor of unwashed bodies and stale food. The club is open daily until 2 a.m.
Unsettling Challenge
The conventional churchgoers were correct. I also sensed a fundamentalism here that flaunts an unsettling challenge at smug complacency.
Perhaps it is wishful, but I couldn’t help thinking that here, amid sweat and squalor, may be the force to reform and direct the aimless, drug-choked hippie psyche.
The young converts resumed their Bible study after they had directed me to a modest cottage on Tenth St. This is the home of the Rev. David Berg, middle-aged adviser to his strange congregation.
Behind his chair hung a rough, roubust portrait, both in style and subject, of Jesus Christ. It is signed “M. Hook.”
“This is a painting of our Chirst,” explained one of the eight youngsters crowded into the room. “Look at the long hair. Beautiful! And the hippie clothes.”
Mr. Berg agreed. “This is Christ the revolutionary. He is our symbol—not a sissified version found in so many parish halls. He is a real man, fit to lead his 12 hippie disciples.”