Why I went back

By Ben Schettler, The Center for Truth in Love

People keep asking me that question. Friends. Family. People in the comments. Strangers who heard the story and found their way here.

“Why did you go back?”

It's a fair question. And it deserves a real answer.

So, here it is.

I was angry. Let me start there.

Tuesday we were shut down. A man was openly selling drugs from a table 25 feet from where we stood. No permit, no questions, no interference from anyone in uniform. We had a table. Open Bibles. Willing hearts. And we were the ones told to stop.

I want to be honest about what I felt in that moment, because I think sanitizing it would be a disservice to you. I felt the heat of injustice. I felt the frustration of watching viewpoint discrimination happen in plain daylight, in a public park, in the greatest city on earth. I was angry.

And I think that anger was righteous. Not reckless. Not self-righteous. Just righteous. Because what happened was wrong. Not inconvenient…wrong. And the God who made us, made us to feel the difference.

Righteous anger without wisdom is just a fuse. I needed to know what was true before I did anything about what was wrong.

But I've learned something about righteous anger over the years: it has to be paired with wisdom or it becomes something else. Righteous anger without wisdom is just a fuse. I needed to know what was true before I did anything about what was wrong.

So I met with an attorney.

The Attorney said yes. But that wasn't the whole answer.

The attorney was clear. Washington Square Park is a traditional public forum. Expressive activity, including sharing the Gospel, engaging in open conversations about faith, even setting up a table for that purpose, is protected under the First Amendment. The police order had no legal foundation. We had every right to go back.

I cannot overstate how important that clarity was. Not because it made me fearless. But because it removed the excuse.

This is something I want every Christian reading this to sit with: sometimes we dress our fear up as wisdom. We tell ourselves we're being careful, being measured, being responsible. When what we're actually doing is using caution as a shield against obedience. The attorney's answer stripped that away. There was no legal reason not to go back. That meant the only question left was a spiritual one:

Sometimes we dress our fear up as wisdom. We tell ourselves we're being careful. When what we're actually doing is using caution as a shield against obedience.

Would I go?

The disciples Didn't Stop Either.

I kept coming back to Acts 4. Peter and John had just been hauled before the authorities, threatened, ordered to stop speaking about Jesus. And when they were released, this is what they did:

"And now, Lord, look upon their threats and grant to your servants to continue to speak your word with all boldness."  — Acts 4:29

They didn't ask God for safety. They asked for boldness. They went right back to the thing that had gotten them arrested.

I'm not comparing myself to the Apostles. I want to be very clear about that. But I do believe that the pattern of the early church, this stubborn, unshakeable commitment to proclaiming the Gospel in the face of opposition, is not just a historical record. It's a model.

It's the shape that obedience takes when the cost of speaking is real.

And then there's this:

"For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes."  — Romans 1:16

Power. Not preference. Not hobby. Not something we do when the conditions are favorable. Power. The Gospel is the power of God for salvation. And if I believe that…if I actually, truly believe that, then the people in Washington Square Park who mocked us, who yelled at us, who would eventually surround and attack us…they need that power. Not in spite of their hostility. Because of it.

That's why I went back.

What It Actually Felt Like to Walk Back In

I want to be honest about this too, because I think the hero version of this story doesn't help anyone.

Walking back into that park on Wednesday was not a chest-out, chin-up moment. Our team knew what the previous day had looked like. We knew the hostility was real. My body knew it, there's something your nervous system does when you walk back toward a place that already showed you its teeth.

It felt like the moment before you jump from somewhere high. You know the ground is there. You know the trajectory is right. And you jump anyway, not because you've stopped feeling the height, but because the thing on the other side is worth it.

I went back because the people in that park, the angry ones, the searching ones, the ones who would later surround me…they are made in the image of God. And they need to know it.

I went back because I had legal standing. I went back because the attorney said yes. I went back because Acts 4 was in my head and Romans was in my bones. But underneath all of that, underneath the legal framework and the theological conviction, was something simpler and more human.

I went back because the people in that park, the angry ones, the searching ones, the ones who would later surround me and swing at me, they are made in the image of God. And they need to know it. They are worth the risk. Not because they were kind to us. Not because they deserved our presence. But because that's what the Gospel is: grace toward the undeserving. Truth spoken in love, even when the love costs something.

Especially when it costs something.

What happened when we got there

Within moments of entering the park, things escalated. A mob surrounded me. I was sucker-punched from behind. Robbed. Beaten.

I ended up in an ambulance. Diagnosed with a concussion on top of a pre-existing traumatic brain injury I've carried for years. I am still recovering. My head still hurts. The light still burns.

And I need you to hear what I'm about to say, because it matters:

I do not regret going back.

I do not regret going back. The call was real. The obedience was right. The outcome is in God's hands. It always was.

Not because I'm a warrior who doesn't feel pain. I feel it. Not because I'm naive about what happened. I know exactly what happened. But because the call was real. The obedience was right. The outcome is in God's hands. It always was. My job was not to guarantee my safety. My job was to go.

I went.

To the Christian Who's Been Hesitating

Maybe you've never been to Washington Square Park. Maybe you've never done street outreach. Maybe the closest you've come to sharing your faith publicly is a conversation at work that made your palms sweat, or a moment at a family dinner where you almost said something and didn't.

I want to speak directly to you.

The hostility you're afraid of is real. I can confirm that. It is real, and it is growing, and it will cost you something. Maybe not what it cost me. But something. There is no version of authentic Christian witness in this cultural moment that comes free.

But here is what I also know, from standing in a park in Manhattan with a bloody face and a stolen phone and a mob that wanted me gone:

The call is louder than the cost.

The Gospel is more powerful than the opposition. The Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead lives in you. And the people you're afraid to speak to, your coworkers, your neighbors, your family members, the strangers you pass every day, they are worth whatever this costs you.

"For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control."  — 2 Timothy 1:7

Go back. Whatever your park is, go back.

Share this Story

This story is spreading because people know something is wrong in this country. They know that a Christian man should not be silenced by police while a drug dealer operates freely beside him. They know that a mob should not be able to beat someone into silence for what they believe.

But the story won't spread on its own. The mainstream media will not carry it. The algorithm will not prioritize it. You are the mechanism. You always have been.

If this post moved you, if it challenged you, convicted you, or gave you something you needed, please share it. Text it to the Christian friend who's been afraid to speak. DM it to the people who need to see it. Tag someone who needs to read that the call doesn't go away because it gets hard.

The truth is still worth speaking. The park is still full of people who need it. And we are going back.

— Ben Schettler

Co-Founder & President, The Center for Truth in Love

www.thecenterfortruthinlove.org