Photo: Justice Centre for Constitutional Freedoms
Interview by Milton Friesen
He looks like Clint Eastwood but is armed with only a microphone. His bullets are his words. His sign is a holster carrying his loaded message: “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.” The fatal blow is that we are the damned, but he is here to guide us to salvation.
Dale Malayko has been street preaching in Edmonton for over ten years, stirring up strong reactions and causing many to characterize him in disparaging terms. He’s been labelled “misguided”, “crazy”, and even “hateful.” But I wanted to evaluate him for myself, so I went down to Jasper Ave and found Dale on top of his wooden box. He was wearing thick mittens and a trapper hat.
Claire Pearen, a protestor dressed in a rainbow onesie, was set up with her own signs a few feet away. As I walked up, she was yelling through her microphone. “You think I’m going to Hell just because I like women. Guess what? None of that’s changing!”
She was also furious that he had placed a restraining order against her. “That’s a gross misuse of the justice system!” she shouted though her loudspeaker, “Those are for people who actually fear for their lives!”
Dale fired back, his voice blaring down the street, “Do you want to see the picture of the guy chasing me last Friday with a chainsaw? Do you want to talk about fear, Claire? You want to talk about hatred?”
“No Dale, we weren’t talking about…”
His voice cut her off. “With a chainsaw! With a chainsaw!”
“Dale, if you weren’t here, this stuff wouldn’t be happening.” Claire said, “This is the result of your homophobia and hatred!”
But Dale ignored her and resumed his preaching.
photo supplied by Dale Malayko
I had been standing by the curb listening to them for several minutes, but now I introduced myself to Claire and asked about her protest. Even in her thick onesie, she looked cold.
“I’ve been protesting Dale for almost three and a half years now,” she said. “I’ve learned that there is a lot of hate towards 2SLGBTQ+ kids in the neighbourhood of Whyte Ave, and some of them took their own life in response. When he tells me that queer people…”
Her voice broke with emotion, but she continued. “They are unhoused already and that’s enough. They shouldn’t be hearing this message.”
A tear trickled down her cheek. “I’m sorry, you are crying,” I said in response.
I turned my attention back to Dale, and he rotated his sign so that that I could read the other side: “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved.” It summarized what he was preaching through his loudspeaker.
“Can I ask you some questions?” I said, interrupting his sermon.
“Not really.” His tone was abrupt, as if he were suspicious of me. He made a striking figure: tall, gaunt, and with sunken cheeks. My initial impression of him looking like a cowboy changed, and I decided that he was more like Abraham Lincoln without a beard.
“Why not, Dale?” Claire interjected through her own speaker.
“You can ask me one question, sure…” his sentence was drawn out as he conceded reluctantly.
“Why only one question, Dale?” Claire demanded.
“But I’m not going to get into a lengthy discussion, like with the other guy.”
“What does it even mean, to come into the presence of God?” I asked, “Isn’t he all around us?”
He looked down at me from his platform, “Well yes, but you’re going to stand before the God who created you. One day you’re going to give an account of your entire life. All your past; all your present; all your future. You’re going to give an account of it!”
Claire’s voice broke through the noise of Dale speaking. “It’s hateful, it’s homophobic, and it’s not…”
But Dale continued, drowning her out through the loudspeaker connected to his headset. His reply did not seem directed at me, but at everyone within earshot. “Everything is being recorded in the books. The Bible says that there are two angels that are following you, 24/7, and they record in the books everything that you do!”
“I thought the idea of two angels recording everything you do was an Islamic doctrine,” I said.
“No, that’s in the Bible. I could quote the whole passage if you like.”
“Dale on his high horse here… Holy!” Claire said, her voice full of obvious scorn.
Dale continued. “If we are judged according to our works, what’s written in the books, every one of us, me included, would be damned. Every one of us would be damned!”
“So how are you not judged by your works?” I asked.
Dale paused, and his eyebrows drew together as he scrutinized me. “By having all your sins washed away. God says, ‘When I wash away your sin, your sins and iniquities I remember no more.’ And the books, the ones that contain all the good and evil that we’ve done, God closes those books. And he says, ‘Your sins and iniquities I remember no more.’ That’s what the Lord Jesus did on the cross.”
“Then is it really what we have done,” I asked, “or what Christ has done?”
Taking away the sign
Dale was certain that it was both, and that everyone was given the choice to accept Jesus or reject him and end up in Hell. But our conversation was interrupted as a man rushed up and grabbed Dale’s sign. Dale stumbled off his soapbox and ran after him shouting.
“Hey! Hey, that’s enough buddy!”
Claire, who had been silently listening nearby as I questioned Dale, spoke up delightedly through her loudspeaker. “I just want to bring attention to how angry Dale makes people. It happens time after time, and Dale wants to pretend that he’s not at fault here.”
“This is my fault?” Dale said in disbelief.
“Yes, because this is not your home!”
His voice dripping with sarcasm, Dale replied. “Yeah, this is my fault. Yeah. This is my fault.” He put up his hands in mock surrender.
“These streets do not belong to you!”
“Oh, they belong to you, Claire.”
“No, they belong to these unhoused people who have to listen to this all the time. Do you think that your voice is the only one that matters? There are people who don’t even feel safe in this city because of you, Dale.”
Dale ignored her and turned back to me. I asked him another question. “Do you think you cheapen the gospel by offering it to people who are not interested?”
Agitated, Dale responded, “No! No! Because the Lord Jesus in his love, he died for people that he knew were going to reject him. He knew that. It doesn’t cheapen it in any way. That actually elevates it to a higher level, that he was willing to die for people that he loved so much, and yet he knew they were going to reject him. The disciples asked, ‘Are there few that will be saved?’ He said, ‘Wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads down into destruction, and straight is the gate and narrow is the way that leads to life, and only few find it.’ So, he knew he was going to be rejected.”
“How do you reconcile your methods with the statement, ‘Do not give dogs what is holy, lest they turn to attack you?’”
“That’s a tough one. But do you know what? As soon as someone rejects… Well do you stop dealing with that one individual, or do you stop dealing with everybody? If they reject you, and if they curse you, do you keep going with them? No, you don’t. You might not believe this, but many people’s lives have been changed in the last ten years. People have told me. They have come back and said so.”
“So that is your purpose, then, to have a positive impact?” I asked.
“That’s not why I do this. I do want to have a positive impact, but my saviour asked me to come and do this. The Lord Jesus said to go to the world and preach the gospel, so that is what I do. And I honestly believe that there is a hell that people are headed towards. I was headed to Hell. I never grew up in a Christian home. I never went to church. I never read the Bible, never heard a preacher, none of that. At the age of 31 I picked up a Bible and I started reading it. I read twelve chapters and I thought, man I am in big trouble. I’m in big trouble, I better believe. I better repent and believe. And I did.”
Working as a firefighter
Up to now, Dale was speaking through his microphone, broadcasting his replies to me down the street. He adjusted his mic to speak to me more quietly.
“I worked for 32 years as a firefighter in the City of Edmonton. I retired as a fire captain. I took an early retirement even though I was at the top of my game, and I was making good coin. The Lord called me to street preach and I argued the whole time. I said ‘No, you’ve got the wrong guy.’ And he said, ‘No I don’t. Go!’ I remember one time driving home, I started crying and I said ‘You’ve got the wrong guy. Heck, choose somebody else.’ And the Lord said, ‘I will teach you.’ So, for the last ten years, the Lord has been teaching me the gospel in clarity.”
“Then I assume you believe there is a biblical precedent for street preaching,” I said. “From my understanding, Jesus and his apostles primarily taught in synagogues, and when they were in public, the crowds came to them. So why do you go to the crowds?”
“Because he said to go into all the world and preach the gospel. In 1 Corinthians, it says that it pleased God by the foolishness of preaching to save those who would believe.”
“But why on the street?” I objected.
“Because that’s where people are. People tell me all the time, ‘Well you know what, if I wanted to hear this, I would go into a church myself.’ And God in his love says ‘I know that you haven’t darkened the doorstep of a church in many years.’”
He paused, and then changed the topic. “Many people say that we can’t believe unless God shows up and his irresistible force comes upon us. When I was saved at the age of 31, the words of the Bible jumped off the page and I knew that the God of Heaven was speaking to me. I can’t explain it. I knew that it was my day and that we were doing business. I got saved that day. And I know that other people have had their day.”
Dale spoke earnestly as he described the defining moment of his life.
photo: Milton Friesen
I asked him another question. “Do you ever worry that you could preach to others for ten years and lose your own salvation?”
He responded emphatically. “No! No! From the day I was saved, I knew I was saved. I knew I was going to Heaven. The only time that I ever doubted my salvation was when I fell into sin. I was like ‘How could I do that?’
“What gives you that assurance?”
Dale’s eyes softened, and he looked less like a cowboy hardened from a life spent outdoors. “The Holy Spirit of God,” he said. “His spirit bears witness with our spirit that we are the chosen children of God. I never even knew how to pray. I got down on my knees beside my bed, and I said: ‘God, I am a sinner. I deserve to go to Hell. If you send me to Hell, you would be right in doing so.’ Then I confessed all the sins I ever committed, and I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Saviour. I said, ‘I will serve you all the days of my life.’ When I got up off my knees, the burden of shame and guilt from sin fell off and I felt light and free. I knew I was saved. I couldn’t even explain to you what happened.”
“It sounds like you felt joyful.”
“Yes! Yes!” Dale exclaimed emphatically.
“Why do Claire and others, particularly in the 2SLGBTQ+ community, think that you hate them?”
“Well, the idea that I’m hateful – it’s not like they are scared of me,” he said. He searched for his words, as if he didn’t understand why they held this opinion. “They are very comfortable with me,” he finished.
The man with the pierced lower lip
Just then a man in his late twenties with a pierced lower lip walked up to us on the street. “Who are ‘they’? Who are ‘they’?” he asked, in response to Dale’s claim.
“Sorry, I don’t know you sir.” Dale replied. “I don’t know who you are.”
The man continued angrily. “Oh, well I feel you have a message of hate. As a gay man I’ve heard it often enough. I get harassed by you people all the time. And I’m just trying to live my life. Doesn’t the Bible say that you should let your neighbour live their life or something like that? Isn’t that part of the book you’re preaching?”
But Dale was looking down at his phone, and not paying him any attention.
“Are you ignoring me? Oh, that is so funny. Are you in junior high?”
Dale, looked up from his phone. “No, I’m paying for parking before I get a ticket.”
At this point, Jose, an elderly man who had been handing out tracts on the sidewalk, joined the discussion circle along with Claire. There were five of us standing on the sidewalk; Dale, Claire, Jose, myself, and the man with the pierced lip. Claire spoke to Jose while Dale was engrossed in his phone.
“Can you address how people are feeling when Dale looks at someone with a rainbow backpack and starts talking about Adam and Eve?” she asked. “He is saying that being straight is the only way. If you’re gay, trans, or non-binary – any of those things are a complete sin and you are going to Hell. If you do not repent, then you are going to Hell. Do you have any idea how that makes people feel?”
“Yes,” Jose said. “Uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable,” said Claire, incredulously.
“Yes, but there’s no other way,” Jose continued.
“I’m not making any assumptions as to who you are, but if you are a straight man, you will not have any idea what its like,” said Claire.
Jose disagreed, gesticulating enthusiastically as he spoke. “I cannot tell you of my previous life,” he said. “I cannot tell you because I would be ashamed. But I praise the Lord because he had patience with me, because I was the filthiest guy. I was a pervert, okay? I got saved by God’s grace. But because I am a sinner, I cannot judge you.”
“But you’re standing here,” objected Claire, “and Dale judges everyone!”
“We are not judging. We are not judging,” insisted Jose.
The stranger interrupted. “Isn’t it up to God to decide who goes to Heaven and Hell?”
Done with his phone, Dale looked up and responded tersely. “You’re right. God’s the judge.”
The conversation disintegrated into an argument, with the gay man insisting that Dale’s message was hateful, and Dale denying that this was the case because everyone was a sinner deserving of the fires of Hell, not just those with certain sexual orientations. Eventually, the stranger summarized the disagreement.
“I don’t believe in God. I don’t believe God exists. So, I think the real question we’re talking about here isn’t if things are morally right or wrong, it’s that we have different metaphysical views of the universe. Because I’ve talked to some Baptist folks who talk with me about being gay, and they seem very concerned because they want to save my soul from the devil. But I’m just doing what my atheist parents did.”
“It’s not saving your soul from the devil,” Dale retorted, “it’s saving your soul from Hell fire.”
Meeting at Montana’s
I was cold from standing out on the street, so I asked for Dale’s email so that I could arrange to interview him more formally later. There were a lot of questions left unanswered. I offered to buy him a coffee in exchange for his time, but he replied that he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he had caffeine in the evening. In return, he offered to buy me a burger “somewhere away from Whyte Ave,” because too many people know him and serve him extra-salty food. In the end, we agreed to meet at Montana’s several days later.
While waiting for a table, I asked him some more questions.
“Does your family support what you do?”
“No, not at all. I have a lot of motivation to quit street preaching. When I started, ten years ago, my wife told me ‘If you do that, I’m moving down to the couch.’ And it’s been ten years like that now.”
“Is she a Christian?”
“She was, but when she heard that her sister got cancer, she decided to live for the here and now. In all honesty, she never had true faith.”
“And what about your children?” I asked.
“As soon as they turned eighteen, they quit coming to church too.”
“Do you think that was because of a systemic church problem?”
“I think that it is because they were never born again and had real faith.”
We were guided to our booth and continued our conversation while looking over the menus.
“Do you think there is any commonality between you and Claire?” I asked.
“Well,” he said, “we both have compassion for people. Great compassion, but in different ways. I was telling her today. ‘Claire, you think about the flesh and the earthly life – that this is it. And I think always about eternity.’”
“You know, God said of Jacob, ‘Jacob I have loved, and Esau I have hated,’ and the only reason is that Esau was a man of the flesh, and he lived in the here and now.”
It was obvious to me that Dale was speaking of himself and Claire allegorically, using the biblical example of the brothers Jacob and Esau. Dale put down his menu and continued. “Esau sold his eternal spiritual birthright for one bowl of food or a mess of pottage. Jacob hungered for eternal spiritual things, and Esau just for the earthly. It was not like God hated Esau the man, but he hated the idea of a man just living for the flesh.”
“Would you say, then, that God’s love of Jacob and his comparative hatred of Esau was determined after they demonstrated who they were?”
Dale replied. “I would say yes, mostly. I am not a Calvinist. Not at all! I believe everybody makes a choice, that the Lord presents everybody a choice and we have to make a choice. Do we get help to make that choice? I think we do.”
“So, with Jacob and Esau, they both had an opportunity? Jacob made the most of it and Esau squandered it?”
“Yes, I believe so, yes. Esau thought very little of it. He said, ‘What good is this birthright if I die?’ That’s what he said. ‘If I die it will not do me any good.’ Well, no. If you die, that’s when it’s really going to come into effect”
Dale broke into a smile, and chuckled. “That’s when you’re going to come into the good of it!”
You can’t go wrong with ribs
The server came to take our order, and we both selected BBQ ribs. “You can’t go wrong with ribs,” Dale said. “They bring together people of differing tastes.”
I had to agree, as I was salivating at the aromas from the kitchen.
“Going back to Claire,” I said, “She told me she has been following you for three years now.”
“Or as I would say, stalking,” Dale interjected.
“There have been some restraining orders placed. Did you place any restraining orders?”
“None by me. No, I had nothing to do with any of the restraining orders, other than that they were coming.”
“So, who is placing these restraining orders?” I asked, puzzled.
Dale spoke without hesitation. “Well, there was one woman who knew Claire really well, and when she saw what Claire was doing to me, she wanted to get in on it herself.”
“How would you describe your relationship? It seems like you are throwing jabs at each other all the time.”
“It is a little better than that, but I can’t say that we are good friends. Actually, on my part, I like her. I don’t like what she does, but I like Claire. And she always has an f-bomb in her pocket ready to throw my way, but Claire also would have compassion towards me if I got punched out. She doesn’t want that to happen.”
“With your setup on Pride Corner, it seems that the 2SLGBTQ+ community in particular thinks that you have a message of hate. Why is that?”
“Because they have to twist what I am saying so that they have a podium. Because I quote the Bible. And I never, ever say what they say I say. Claire will get on her mic, and she will say, ‘Dale says that none of us gay people should have a right to exist, that we should be killed or murdered.’ She will say that.”
Dale’s tone reflected personal hurt from being accused falsely from someone he cared about. “I will look at her and say ‘Claire, I’ve never said that.’”
“So why does she think that?” I asked.
“Because I think that if she doesn’t, then she doesn’t have a foot to stand on. She doesn’t have a pedestal or podium. She doesn’t have a position to give her opinion or portray to people that it is okay to be gay. She is using this; she is hanging on to it. I think in a lot of ways if I came to an end, that Claire would be sad. Because she could no longer do what she is doing, because Claire doesn’t go out and do her own preaching, she never does. When I go out and preach, she comes along afterwards to protest.”
I want them to get to Heaven
The server delivered our meals, plates piled high with ribs, fries, and coleslaw. Before eating, Dale prayed aloud, thanking God for the food, and requesting mercy for Claire. While we were eating, I continued my questions.
“Why would the 2SLGBTQ+ community be particularly reactionary to your message? Do you single them out in any way?”
“No, never. Never!” Dale spoke with absolute certainty. “If you have ever seen what goes on at 103 Street, they crowd around me to take a group photo. I have my sign and am standing there, and they get around me and are rubbing around my shoulder and everybody is posing for a picture. If they hated me, they wouldn’t do that. Every one of them, whether they admit it or not, know that I care about them, that I love them, and that I want them to get to Heaven. They disagree about the message. They don’t disagree that we are all sinners because everybody knows that. You can say what you want, but we all know that we’re sinners. Everybody knows that. Whether you are willing to admit it or not, that’s a whole other matter. But they just don’t want to hear about God’s way.”
“It is almost like you are a celebrity or an Edmonton icon. Do you adopt a certain persona when you are on the soapbox that is different from who you are in everyday life?”
There was a long silence as Dale considered his response. “I don’t think it is any different from who I am, but I think it is different as to what I am doing, because obviously I am there preaching. But if anyone wanted to come and talk, I would talk just like I am with you now, like I did with you on the street.”
“Is it unusual for someone to ask you questions on the street like I did the other day?”
“No, not at all. But it is unusual for someone to ask questions and actually listen, instead of saying ‘Hey, can I ask you a question?’ and then proceed to take 15 minutes to tell me what they believe. There is a lot of that.”
“You mentioned before how you and Claire are similar in your sense of compassion. What is your personal response to the homeless who listen to your preaching day in and day out?”
Dale paused for a long time before replying. “For one thing, when I preach, I do not want to break anybody’s spirit. So, my intent is never to preach so hard that people who are listening cannot find hope in the message. For someone who is barely hanging on, they don’t need to hear that they are a sinner. They need to hear that there is hope and that there is a future.”
He continued. “And there are lots of examples of people who come and talk to me when I am packing up or setting up. They will come and pour their heart out to me. There have been people that have been saved. Just as an example, this spring a lady came and stood off to the side and listened for twenty minutes or so, and she asked me if I had any pamphlets. I gave her some. Then she came back five or ten minutes later and asked for a Bible, so I gave her a Bible. And then she came back and said “Hey, can I have a hug?” So, I got off the box and I gave her a good, honest hug. Then she took all the stuff and she seemed genuinely happy.”
“That was in early May. Then in July a woman came up to me and she shook my hand. And she says, ‘Right on! Keep doing this!’ And she stood off to the side and listened. I didn’t remember who it was. I didn’t remember that it was the same person, who took the Bible and gave me a hug, but what she told Claire was that the day I talked to her she was walking on 109th Street and headed for the High-Level Bridge. She was jumping into the river. She was going to kill herself. Her life was coming to an end that day. And that day when she went by on 109th Street, she happened upon me, and she stopped and listened.”
“That is a victory from the Lord. I always tell the Lord, ‘If people want a hug, I’ll give them a hug.’”
“You would say, then, that your actions and message reflect the heart and character of Jesus?” I asked.
“Yes, I believe so. Yes, I do. Jesus wasn’t all just lovey-dovey – that everything is good. That is what people want, right? That is what people want to hear. It is hard to balance truth and love. Some people don’t need to hear that they are sinners, they need to hear that there is hope. But other people need to hear the law and that is all they get, because they are so proud. But do I fail in what I do? Yes. Yes, I do.”
Paying for the meal
Our bill came, and Dale insisted on paying for my meal. “I don’t get to go out very often,” he said. “Very few people want to go out with me.”
“Not even your wife?” I asked.
“No, she hates me,” he said with sadness.
After our conversation, I grappled with conflicting emotions. Despite my disagreement with his sometimes-abrasive methods or strident Arminianism, I applaud his courage, resolve, and faith.
In a culture which embraces the notion that everyone is basically good, many want to tune Dale out or silence him. We want to go about our lives feeling good about ourselves, surrounded by those who validate our choices. But silencing Dale would be a loss.
Dale has the courage to assert that our problems stem from something corrupted within. He contends that we are not at war with one another, but merely small players in a cosmic spiritual battle who are in desperate need of redemption. For many, this claim itself is proof enough that he is crazy, but the effect of this belief on his life has been profound.
For a decade, Dale has braved harsh weather conditions while standing on the sidewalk. He has suffered violence, derision, and scorn. And yet, surprisingly, he sees commonality with his adversaries and prays for them. He stands ready to give them a hug.
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