Sorry, I've been super busy, and surprisingly tired out by the bigger bicycle (I finally stopped trying to go full speed Thursday). I think the wheels are a good 4" in diameter larger than my other one, and the tires are much wider, meaning more friction. I don't think the disc brakes are an issue, though they are great stoppers!
Anyway, Tuesday, I was trying to catch the 52 so I could visit a potential client, so I went over to the Park Place Mall. At the designated bus shelter (there are four shelters down there, each with its own set of buses and directions), I paused to look at the schedule (which they so kindly have posted on the back). As I approached, I saw a young lady on the phone. I was wary about stopping to talk to her, because she was so young (I was guessing 16), and I didn't know how I was going to witness to her, because I wasn't wearing any "Jesus" T-shirts and I didn't have any tracts (they came in on Friday). Well, you know the Lord...
Suddenly, she exploded into the phone, filling the surrounding air with insults, filth words, and even a death threat! Wow, I thought. "Angry?" I said.
"A little," she understated.
"Let me guess: [some girl] is sleeping with your boyfriend?" (I've heard so many phone explosions over that issue, so I just guessed...way wrong.)
"No, it's my mom."
"You talk like that to your mother?"
"Yes! She deserves it!"
"Why?"
"She was a crack addict for three years. [Obviously, she isn't now, but forgiveness wasn't part of this girl's vocabulary]...And she never listens to me! She always takes other people's sides against me!"
The situation in question (which I found out as we continued the conversation) was that the girl had been accused by her school of using her phone during class. She said she wasn't, but her mom believed the school authorities and told her that she could not go to see her 19-year-old boyfriend, who is in jail.
"What is he in jail for?"
"Possession of marijuana."
Why was your mother ever going to let you see him in the first place???? No, I didn't say that. But, when she complained (now this was a very loud conversation in front of about five or six other sets of burning ears) that her mother hangs up the phone when she tries to talk to her, I told her that I would, too, if some 15-year-old brat started calling me names and cursing at me.
Wanna know the funny part? I said, "So I guess you think you're a pretty good person."
"I am." She paused because I started looking at her sideways. "I know what just happened doesn't make it seem like it, but--"
I couldn't take it: "You just cursed out your mom and threatened her life! Are you serious?" The rest of the conversation, sadly, was spent trying to get her to understand that she was greatly offending God by her behaviors: her disrespect towards her mom, her general attitude towards authority, and her drug abuse (obviously, she does "weed," too; and, yes, I did confirm this with her). I didn't get her name, but I left her with, "You need to apologize to your mom, and repent; God is seriously angry with you right now."
Unfortunately, I saw her blazing away with her mom, who had called her back during our conversation, hung up when the girl got unreasonably loud and mean and would not let her get in a word, and called back, and called back, after I boarded the bus. I did manage to tell her something Rod Knapp had told me before: God puts authority in our lives, and when we dodge one, we come under another. And I told her, "Mom is a lot nicer than government." Pray that she heeds before she gets destroyed.
Wednesday night I had the pleasure of serving two homosexual men as they came to check out our store (on 4th Street North, and 88th Ave, right across the street from Starbuck's). I had the pleasure. They were none too pleased.
It started innocently enough: I had thought initially that the person exiting the driver's seat of the pickup truck that had just pulled in was a woman. Then I saw that I was waaaaaaaay wrong. So then I started praying. Pastor Bob Coy of Calvary Chapel Ft Lauderdale was preaching his Wednesday night service (I wish I could get free WiFi there, so I could stream Calvary Chapel St Pete's Wednesday night services, but CCFL will have to do), and I was wearing a "Not Just Jews For Jesus" green T-shirt with giant letters on it, so there is no way on earth they could have missed the fact that they had just walked into Christian territory. But, apparently, the type of Christians they know all teach false doctrine, so they didn't feel uneasy at all (plus Pastor Bob wasn't talking about homosexuality at the time).
I waited until they were ready to check out, then I asked them my usual deadly question: "Have you ever taken the Good Person Test?" We got stuck on the question of if calling someone mean names is hatred, even though it is not treating them with love. Then Steve (no, the other guy's name was not Adam, it was Chris) said, "But the message of the cross is that you can be forgiven of all these things." True enough, but incomplete.
"But the cross also says that we now have the power, through Jesus Christ, to overcome these sins."
"No, I believe that the message of the cross is that you can continue to mess up and still be forgiven." When I tried to point him to Romans 6, then the fun began: "The Bible is not the authority."
His primary argument was that the Catholic Church had guardianship over the Holy Scriptures for too long for him to trust them. This is a patently false view of history, one that Satan loves for two reasons: if you like the Catholic church, then you let them tell you that they have authority over the Scriptures and can "interpret" (meaning, twist) it to mean whatever they want it to, as well as ignore it whenever it suits them [yes, I have had Catholic apologists tell me that the church is in authority over the Bible]; if you hate the Catholic church, then you are successfully inoculated when someone wants to tell you what the Bible says, because you view it as fruit from the proverbial poisoned tree.
[Pause to note: I know that there are people in the Catholic church who don't believe everything their church teaches, but that doesn't mean that their church doesn't teach it.]
Obviously, the latter was his position, but it is false: there has always been an independent Church, possessing the Scriptures in their own language, in direct opposition to Rome's dictates, and under frequent attacks from the Vatican. E.H. Broadbent documents this in his book, The Pilgrim Church (you can get a copy from thebereancall.org; I think it's $20; very well worth it). Luther and Calvin actually opposed this Church when they led their respective movements (which is why I don't respect them very much; yes, they were strong against a clear enemy, but they were so blind to their true allies).
But when I tried to tell him this, he insisted that I was completely ignorant of history. So I wrote down the title of the book for him, and the author. He still insisted that his position was right. Of course, this is only because he wants to be able to hold on to sin and hold on to Jesus at the same time, but, as Jesus so plainly told us in Matthew 7:21-23, it doesn't work that way. He tried to tell me how much he had studied the Bible as a kid growing up, and that he had studied for the priesthood. Sorry, bro, you missed that part about, "Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish" (Luke 13:3,5). And he insisted that the Gospels were written a minimum of 100 years after Jesus' time on earth. But Sir William Ramsay, as early as the 1800s, clearly proved from archaeology in the Middle East that all the Gospels were "written by a baptized Jew in the thirties or forties A.D.," something that liberal theologians like to ignore and to hide from their students (see Dave Hunt's In Defense of the Faith for citation).
Chris asked me how old I am. When I told him, he said, "I want to see you when you are forty and get your position at that time."
I have never responded this way to this absolutely ridiculous rejoinder: "Why not ask the guys who say this stuff who are already in their fifties? They've been saying it for as long as I will have been by then."
"But I want to talk to you!"
Why? I'm supposed to change the facts of history in the next 14 years of my life? Ludicrous.
Anyway, Steve told me that he didn't come to the Amish Market (Hello?) to get preached at.
Too bad.
I don't recall anything from Thursday right now. Friday, I was trying to get to downtown St Pete to catch up with Team Hope, but I had left my wallet at home, which holds my bus pass, so I rode my bike back home, and was going to catch the 52 at the Park Place Mall (again) to get there...but the bus was pulling out while I was over 300 feet away. So, I had begun the journey with a few more than 100 tracts, intending to hand them out on the bus and downtown, but hadn't dispensed most of them on my walk, so I just turned around and stood between the movie theater and the shopping plaza...and ran out of tracts in ten minutes! Wow! I didn't know that the Regal Theater held that many people on a Friday night (but that's because I don't ever go). Some people didn't take, some people dropped them once they realized that they were Zero Dollar Bills, not real money, and some people laughed about the Zero, some people insisted on getting their very own Zero dollar Bill, and some people thoughtfully read it.
I thought that I was out of tracts when I left, but, as I entered my trailer part, I realized that I had two more still in my pocket. I handed one of those to the guy standing outside the trailer next to mine, and the last one I gave to a homeless couple on US 19 as I went to catch up with Team Hope as they returned to Calvary Chapel.
So, yeah, it's been a fun, busy week!
Oh, today, I went up to Aldi's and saw Saraia for the first time in about a month. She smiled when I told her that I had been praying for her just this morning because I haven't seen her in a while. She still hasn't read the book, only my note to her in it. I think she is hesitant because she knows that following Jesus means giving up her life (that's what it means for everyone, not just homosexuals: "He who seeks to save his life will lose it; he who loses his life for My sake will find it" Jesus said), and she doesn't want to do that just yet. Please continue to pray for her.
Thanks for your prayers for my grandmother. My aunt reports that she is doing better. Please also continue to pray for my neighbor Dave, for the Woods family (I still have not heard back from them; the mom emailed me to tell me that they were in the accident, but she probably hasn't had time for more communication), and for the RCH Orphanage in Thailand.
I don't have an update on Lori Ogle, except to say that her Dessert Venue fundraiser in early June was a great success. Her tentative departure date was set for sometime in August, but I don't know the details. The Calvary Chapel St Pete High School Youth are preparing for a trip in August to Guatemala. Danielle Nadzan is going to Uganda, either this month or next. Joe Nerad has been back from Bible College in Hungary for about three weeks. Um...let's see. Always keep Paul and Marcia Cowley in prayer (Nairobi, Kenya; I just saw an article in my local paper about clean water being scarce over there). Natalie Stillman came to Mission Minded in June to tell us about her time in Bethlehem, where she serves with YWAM, but is eager to do more than YWAM can do. Who else?
Oh, Jim and Jan Larson have moved out of their home in St Pete and are staying at one of D&D's places until they launch. I don't have a date for them, either, but they are looking to help Paul and Marcia Cowley. And Sue Richards recently finished training in Mexico for Shepherd's Staff. She has no clear direction on where to go, so please continue to pray for that for her.
I should write on Saturdays more often, so I can include all this extra information.
But I should also write during the week, so I can shorten the emails! Thanks for bearing with me. God bless you all! Thanks so much for your prayers.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
The Full Story
Some of you may have noticed, or may notice in the future, the different looking bicycle that I'm riding. Let me tell you what happened.
I was headed in the direction of work Tuesday so I could do some prospecting for my sales job before I went in to work at the Amish Market. I was cycling rather quickly to get through the merge lane onto Gandy from I-275 (the car coming was plenty far behind me), and I moved too quickly across the lane. I lost control of the bicycle, couldn't get it back, and, making sure I landed in the grass, dismounted rather roughly.
I got up quickly, not feeling any bruises or injuries, and went to remount my bike. Well, there was no point. The front wheel was so bent that it could not move, the chain was off, and the handle bars were turned 90 degrees. I took all this in as the bus approached, going in the direction I needed, but I was more than 500 feet from the next bus stop. And there were rain clouds coming.
I contemplated just leaving the bicycle there, but that would be littering. So I dragged it along, hoping to reach teh bus shelter before the rain drenched me.
Well, I hadn't made it far before the rain started coming. I was already thinking about the conversation I had had with a missionary from our church named Sean (who serves in a hostile country in Southeast Asia) and how he had talked about going through hard trials and how blessed the end result was. I had cringed when he said this. I am in a trial (mostly of my own making) and I don't like it. And it was going to get harder?
Sean had prayed for me, and I had spent some time with the Lord afterwards, learning what Paul Svoboda means when he says to "sit at the feet of Jesus" (he's been saying that for as long as I can remember, but I've never known what he meant until now), and dreading the time to come. And it might happen that way, but the end will be blessed, so I have to say, with some hesitation: "Bring it on!" (Steven Curtis Chapman wrote a song like that a few years back; it's on Declaration).
Now I was thinking, So, this is how it starts. I lose my bike, and now what? Oh well, the Lord will carry me through this, and I will be a better servant for it. Then a pick-up truck stopped (just what I had prayed for when I realized that I needed to remove my bike from the roadside) far in front of me, backed up a bit, to be sure to be out of the way of traffic, and waited for me as the rains began to come down. I walked the bike (the back wheel was still functional) up, and he asked if I had been hit (no) and where I was going (by now I just wanted to get to the Amish Market, because the rain was going to stop me from doing what I had planned, because I have lost my umbrella...again).
Thankful for this kindness, I asked the man if he was a Christian. I did this trying to see of his kindness was born of the Spirit of God, or of self-righteousness, which would damn his soul. He told me that he was a Buddhist (a white, middle-aged American Buddhist...you don't meet those every day), and that he had converted 15 years ago, but his wife had been one since 5 (presumably a parental decision for her; she was not present at this time). He asked if I were a Christian (of course, I affirmed), and said that he believed in tolerance for all religions (sorry, bro, all religions lead to Hell--Jesus gives eternal life without religion at all).
I asked him what he thought would happen to him when he died. He said, "Oh, I think I'll be reincarnated. How about you? I guess you think you'll go to Heaven?"
"Yes."
"Well, you know, I don't think that you have to be a Christian to be a good person."
"You're right, but I don't believe that there are any good people."
"Well, that depends on your value system."
"Well, the only value system that really counts, is that of our Creator, God, because He is the ultimate [I should have said, only] judge."
"Well, that kind of depends on whether or not you believe in a God."
"Well, if you don't believe in Him, it kinda sucks to be you, because He still exists."
Now, at this point, I had guided him to the Market, and we were pulling into the parking lot. In fact, he was pulling into a parking space. I think this influenced what happened next.
He got very angry and said, "That does mean that my faith is wrong, and I don't appreciate you trying to convert me. I don't mind you spreading the word [yes, you do], but I don't like you coming in here and trying to tell me that I'm wrong. so get your bike and get out of my car!"
I just yielded and did as he said. Some divine appointments end this way. Many of Jesus' did. Keep him in prayer, please.
Oh, the rest of the story: A few days later, Randy at the Market lent me his bike. He said that he would try to find me one, but I could use his until he goes hunting in October. It's a Mongoose, too, but it's a couple inches higher, and the wheels aren't already bent (meaning that it actually accelerates when going down hill). The shifting is different, but I'll adjust. What I really need is not a mountain bike, which is what I had and what he has, but a road bike, something that has thinner wheels, designed to reduce friction. It may not have shocks, because it isn't designed for rough terrain, like a mountain (Hey, it's only Pinellas County roads, not the rural highways of China--big difference). So, thanks for your prayers, and please keep an eye out for a bike that I could use in October (or sooner).
I was headed in the direction of work Tuesday so I could do some prospecting for my sales job before I went in to work at the Amish Market. I was cycling rather quickly to get through the merge lane onto Gandy from I-275 (the car coming was plenty far behind me), and I moved too quickly across the lane. I lost control of the bicycle, couldn't get it back, and, making sure I landed in the grass, dismounted rather roughly.
I got up quickly, not feeling any bruises or injuries, and went to remount my bike. Well, there was no point. The front wheel was so bent that it could not move, the chain was off, and the handle bars were turned 90 degrees. I took all this in as the bus approached, going in the direction I needed, but I was more than 500 feet from the next bus stop. And there were rain clouds coming.
I contemplated just leaving the bicycle there, but that would be littering. So I dragged it along, hoping to reach teh bus shelter before the rain drenched me.
Well, I hadn't made it far before the rain started coming. I was already thinking about the conversation I had had with a missionary from our church named Sean (who serves in a hostile country in Southeast Asia) and how he had talked about going through hard trials and how blessed the end result was. I had cringed when he said this. I am in a trial (mostly of my own making) and I don't like it. And it was going to get harder?
Sean had prayed for me, and I had spent some time with the Lord afterwards, learning what Paul Svoboda means when he says to "sit at the feet of Jesus" (he's been saying that for as long as I can remember, but I've never known what he meant until now), and dreading the time to come. And it might happen that way, but the end will be blessed, so I have to say, with some hesitation: "Bring it on!" (Steven Curtis Chapman wrote a song like that a few years back; it's on Declaration).
Now I was thinking, So, this is how it starts. I lose my bike, and now what? Oh well, the Lord will carry me through this, and I will be a better servant for it. Then a pick-up truck stopped (just what I had prayed for when I realized that I needed to remove my bike from the roadside) far in front of me, backed up a bit, to be sure to be out of the way of traffic, and waited for me as the rains began to come down. I walked the bike (the back wheel was still functional) up, and he asked if I had been hit (no) and where I was going (by now I just wanted to get to the Amish Market, because the rain was going to stop me from doing what I had planned, because I have lost my umbrella...again).
Thankful for this kindness, I asked the man if he was a Christian. I did this trying to see of his kindness was born of the Spirit of God, or of self-righteousness, which would damn his soul. He told me that he was a Buddhist (a white, middle-aged American Buddhist...you don't meet those every day), and that he had converted 15 years ago, but his wife had been one since 5 (presumably a parental decision for her; she was not present at this time). He asked if I were a Christian (of course, I affirmed), and said that he believed in tolerance for all religions (sorry, bro, all religions lead to Hell--Jesus gives eternal life without religion at all).
I asked him what he thought would happen to him when he died. He said, "Oh, I think I'll be reincarnated. How about you? I guess you think you'll go to Heaven?"
"Yes."
"Well, you know, I don't think that you have to be a Christian to be a good person."
"You're right, but I don't believe that there are any good people."
"Well, that depends on your value system."
"Well, the only value system that really counts, is that of our Creator, God, because He is the ultimate [I should have said, only] judge."
"Well, that kind of depends on whether or not you believe in a God."
"Well, if you don't believe in Him, it kinda sucks to be you, because He still exists."
Now, at this point, I had guided him to the Market, and we were pulling into the parking lot. In fact, he was pulling into a parking space. I think this influenced what happened next.
He got very angry and said, "That does mean that my faith is wrong, and I don't appreciate you trying to convert me. I don't mind you spreading the word [yes, you do], but I don't like you coming in here and trying to tell me that I'm wrong. so get your bike and get out of my car!"
I just yielded and did as he said. Some divine appointments end this way. Many of Jesus' did. Keep him in prayer, please.
Oh, the rest of the story: A few days later, Randy at the Market lent me his bike. He said that he would try to find me one, but I could use his until he goes hunting in October. It's a Mongoose, too, but it's a couple inches higher, and the wheels aren't already bent (meaning that it actually accelerates when going down hill). The shifting is different, but I'll adjust. What I really need is not a mountain bike, which is what I had and what he has, but a road bike, something that has thinner wheels, designed to reduce friction. It may not have shocks, because it isn't designed for rough terrain, like a mountain (Hey, it's only Pinellas County roads, not the rural highways of China--big difference). So, thanks for your prayers, and please keep an eye out for a bike that I could use in October (or sooner).
Friday, July 3, 2009
Long Time Coming
Sorry, it has been absolutely pouring rain lately, and I just don't have money to replace the laptop that I must carry to and from either Panera Bread (where I am today) or Dunkin Donuts in order to get Internet access. So I am waaaaay behind on updates, but some are definitely worth the wait.
First, my neighbor Dave. Dave told me a few weeks ago that he had quit drinking and drugs cold-turkey, and he certainly looked like it. He was going through all kinds of withdrawal symptoms, his mom was bringing him Gatorade to keep him hydrated, and his face was much, much clearer.
However, that didn't last long. One night, I awoke to hear him rejoicing with a friend that this beverage was "9% alcohol!" and claiming that it took quite a bit to get him drunk. Eventually, I arose and challenged him about it. This is the time that I told him, in front of his friend, that his friend was no friend at all, but a jerk for leading him back to alcohol.
He has continued since then to go down hill, his mother exploding one day that she was doing everything she could for him, but he wasn't doing his part! (Well, duh.) She, being motherly, does not have the heart to cut him off, while I keep trying to tell him that he needs to take responsibility for his own life, stop expecting his mom to bail him out of everything he gets into, and get a job.
I didn't give him that speech Tuesday night (more like Wednesday morning at 1:56 AM) when I awoke to him and his buddy laughing their drunk heads off. I just knocked on the door.
"David, somebody's at the door!"
"Who is it?"
"It's Joshua," I said.
"Oh."
"Good morning!" I greeted him sarcastically.
"Are we too loud?" I nodded. "Sorry, dude." And I went home and fervently prayed for him. I probably should be doing that more often anyway, but this was a very clear signal.
So yesterday his phone got cut off, for some reason, so he came over and asked if he could borrow my phone to call his mom. She told him that she had definitely paid the bill and that he should double check. He was extremely rude to her, but she told him she would call Verizon for him. He called a friend to ask him to give another friend a ride home, and then left.
Well, apparently, his mom did call Verizon, and they were supposed to come out, but they didn't, because he was back over again today, asking once again to use the phone to call his mom. You know what? He was rude to her again! This time he was leaving a message because she didn't answer, but I had had enough. "Dave, you need to show some respect to your mom, bro."
"Oh, I was respectful," he claimed.
Are you serious? I thought. "'You need to get them over here RIGHT NOW!' is not very respectful at all." (That was how he had ended the call.)
He didn't respond.
He ended up calling Verizon himself, because he could not get ahold of his mom. They told him that a technician would come today, and that his bill was indeed paid, and that he just needed to wait at home all day for them. He didn't like that answer, but oh well.
He came back over later trying to call his mom again, but she didn't answer, so he called his dad; but he didn't answer, either. He thanked me for letting him use my phone. And then he proceeded to profusely praise me for being such a great friend to him, hugging me, telling me what a cool black guy I am (all his previous black friends have been drug addicts, including some people who jumped him in a 5-to-1 beat down that he has scars to remind him about) and how I've always been there when he needed me.
I was frustrated. When will he ever repent? This is all great that he thinks I'm cool, but what about his soul? Sometimes I think that the Lord gets sick of me, but I think He could understand this gripe. But He was urging me to be patient. My boss at my evening job told me the other day that it could be 15-20 years, but there would be fruit. I hate those numbers, but I have to realize the grip that Satan has on those who follow him. God doesn't force it off. People have to be convinced to ask for Him to remove it.
So while I was typing this up today, his friend Steve called me. I didn't know that it was his friend. I didn't recognize the number, so I guessed that it was someone who I had tried to sell business cards to. He thought that I was someone trying to purchase his Honda Civic (Ha!). I tried another angle to identify this guy: "Well, I am a Christian who loves to talk to people about Jesus, so [maybe we met that way]."
"Oh, I love Jesus, man."
"Cool, man. What church do you go to?"
"I don't."
"Why not?"
"Because everytime I've gone, all the people were fake."
So I asked him how he expected anyone in church to be "real" if he refused to be there. He admitted that I had a point. He asked what church I go to, and when I told him, he realized that I am David's neighbor, and told me that he was David's friend, the one that he had called from my phone because his phone wasn't working. So then I asked him how much he read the Bible. Not much. (Not surprising.)
"But I believe in Jesus."
"Well, if you're not going to follow Jesus, it does you no good to believe in Him."
He made some excuses, tried to say that he was serious about Jesus, but I challenged him, "How can you be serious about following Jesus when you don't read His Word?"
"Good point." He said he might come up to Calvary sometime. Though not the 9 AM service, lol.
First, my neighbor Dave. Dave told me a few weeks ago that he had quit drinking and drugs cold-turkey, and he certainly looked like it. He was going through all kinds of withdrawal symptoms, his mom was bringing him Gatorade to keep him hydrated, and his face was much, much clearer.
However, that didn't last long. One night, I awoke to hear him rejoicing with a friend that this beverage was "9% alcohol!" and claiming that it took quite a bit to get him drunk. Eventually, I arose and challenged him about it. This is the time that I told him, in front of his friend, that his friend was no friend at all, but a jerk for leading him back to alcohol.
He has continued since then to go down hill, his mother exploding one day that she was doing everything she could for him, but he wasn't doing his part! (Well, duh.) She, being motherly, does not have the heart to cut him off, while I keep trying to tell him that he needs to take responsibility for his own life, stop expecting his mom to bail him out of everything he gets into, and get a job.
I didn't give him that speech Tuesday night (more like Wednesday morning at 1:56 AM) when I awoke to him and his buddy laughing their drunk heads off. I just knocked on the door.
"David, somebody's at the door!"
"Who is it?"
"It's Joshua," I said.
"Oh."
"Good morning!" I greeted him sarcastically.
"Are we too loud?" I nodded. "Sorry, dude." And I went home and fervently prayed for him. I probably should be doing that more often anyway, but this was a very clear signal.
So yesterday his phone got cut off, for some reason, so he came over and asked if he could borrow my phone to call his mom. She told him that she had definitely paid the bill and that he should double check. He was extremely rude to her, but she told him she would call Verizon for him. He called a friend to ask him to give another friend a ride home, and then left.
Well, apparently, his mom did call Verizon, and they were supposed to come out, but they didn't, because he was back over again today, asking once again to use the phone to call his mom. You know what? He was rude to her again! This time he was leaving a message because she didn't answer, but I had had enough. "Dave, you need to show some respect to your mom, bro."
"Oh, I was respectful," he claimed.
Are you serious? I thought. "'You need to get them over here RIGHT NOW!' is not very respectful at all." (That was how he had ended the call.)
He didn't respond.
He ended up calling Verizon himself, because he could not get ahold of his mom. They told him that a technician would come today, and that his bill was indeed paid, and that he just needed to wait at home all day for them. He didn't like that answer, but oh well.
He came back over later trying to call his mom again, but she didn't answer, so he called his dad; but he didn't answer, either. He thanked me for letting him use my phone. And then he proceeded to profusely praise me for being such a great friend to him, hugging me, telling me what a cool black guy I am (all his previous black friends have been drug addicts, including some people who jumped him in a 5-to-1 beat down that he has scars to remind him about) and how I've always been there when he needed me.
I was frustrated. When will he ever repent? This is all great that he thinks I'm cool, but what about his soul? Sometimes I think that the Lord gets sick of me, but I think He could understand this gripe. But He was urging me to be patient. My boss at my evening job told me the other day that it could be 15-20 years, but there would be fruit. I hate those numbers, but I have to realize the grip that Satan has on those who follow him. God doesn't force it off. People have to be convinced to ask for Him to remove it.
So while I was typing this up today, his friend Steve called me. I didn't know that it was his friend. I didn't recognize the number, so I guessed that it was someone who I had tried to sell business cards to. He thought that I was someone trying to purchase his Honda Civic (Ha!). I tried another angle to identify this guy: "Well, I am a Christian who loves to talk to people about Jesus, so [maybe we met that way]."
"Oh, I love Jesus, man."
"Cool, man. What church do you go to?"
"I don't."
"Why not?"
"Because everytime I've gone, all the people were fake."
So I asked him how he expected anyone in church to be "real" if he refused to be there. He admitted that I had a point. He asked what church I go to, and when I told him, he realized that I am David's neighbor, and told me that he was David's friend, the one that he had called from my phone because his phone wasn't working. So then I asked him how much he read the Bible. Not much. (Not surprising.)
"But I believe in Jesus."
"Well, if you're not going to follow Jesus, it does you no good to believe in Him."
He made some excuses, tried to say that he was serious about Jesus, but I challenged him, "How can you be serious about following Jesus when you don't read His Word?"
"Good point." He said he might come up to Calvary sometime. Though not the 9 AM service, lol.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Pride Fest 2009 Report
Wow. That was crazy.
That was the primary reaction I had to almost everything that passed in front of me. I tried hard not to look offended, because it would have sent the wrong message. But there were times that I failed. Like the time a guy walked by in some goofy outfit (well, more like, next to nothing at all), and I shook my head. I tried to catch myself as I realized that the man walking in the opposite direction was approaching me, but it was too late: he mimicked my head shake as he rejected my tract.
I did get a chance to speak with Eric for some time about Christ and His redemption of us from sin. I talked about how I can't make excuses for my sin, and how God can't let me into Heaven with it, and how Jesus not only cleanses our records, but He cleanses our hearts, so that we no longer desire to do sin (at least, not as much as we used to). I never brought up homosexuality--I didn't have to--but I did point out that one lie qualifies one for Hell, etc.
Sharon tried to be reasonable with a taller lady (yes, a real woman) who insisted that the Bible was a joke, that it was unscientific, that it put people down. She didn't listen to anything Sharon tried to tell her, but Sharon and Carol just pressed on until the lady finally walked away. She passed by again later shouting something at me about Jesus. I forget what she said, and what I said in reply. It was corrective, but it wasn't mean.
Of course, there was also the guy who dropped a tract on the ground and then, as he picked it up, said, "Jesus Christ!" I said, "Hey, please don't take the name of the Lord in vain."
He said, "I'm sorry, does that offend you?"
"You shouldn't worry about it offending me, because it offends Him," I responded, which is the truth: he shouldn't fear me, he should fear God.
Josh Page was asked to lead the outreach, and he was such a blessing (not that everyone else wasn't a blessing, but he just gets a special mention: the team consisted of Mike, Kim, Josh, John, me, and Sharon and Carol from Calvary Chapel Bradenton). I remember looking up at a group that was passing by while I was reloading on tracts, wishing that I had time to reach them, and there he was gently offering the message of reconciliation while this lady just wished she could bite his head off. It saddened me to watch, because of her soul, but it was kind of funny hearing the gentleness of Josh and the absolute wrath of the lady he was trying to minister to with kindness.
We ran out of tracts this year around 3 PM, so we called it quits at that point. We actually had more tracts this year than last, I think, but we did not recycle as many this year. Last year, people actually stopped to read the Cyanide Tract before throwing it down in disgust. People weren't as "caught" with the assortment of tracts that we had this year (mostly Living Waters and Custom Tract Source, including the Team Hope tract), except maybe the Good News tract that David Guild made (it's all Scripture), and, once they realized that it was about Jesus, they just threw it away, unless they were so impressed that we weren't yelling at them (yes, those guys were back) that they took it out of good will. I wish they had read it more quickly, but God knows how to work things out.
When we ran out of ordinary tracts, we started handing out bottles of water and everything else we had. We had some Gospels of John, some leaflets that help a person read Through the Bible in One Year, and some DVD's called "Stop and Think" (I haven't watched it yet, but I hear it's really good). The bottles of water at the hottest part of the day really did soften people up, for the most part, but there was one lady who insisted on hating us even when we were being so kind. We tried to reason with her, but she threw away the Gospel of John (fortunately, it was sitting on top of some paper trash, so I recycled it). I called her out on it, asking why she was throwing away the expression of God's love. She just continued to trash us.
She was so mean that her partner said she felt guilty for taking the water. We told her she had no obligation to us. It was a free gift, as Jesus gives us breath. Her daughter (I think it was her daughter) kept trying to make her be nicer, but she wouldn't have it, and she certainly didn't feel guilty in the least for taking the water we offered while calling us evil-spirited. Oh well.
Ha. Before that, one lady commented as she received the water from Kim, "Free water and religion," to which I replied, "Right: Jesus freely gives us living water!" She was surprised by the analogy and had to laugh.
I did not like to do it, but we were out of tracts and almost out of water, so I went and got the bus. We had not had any one to pray for at all (did have several people comment about the "Prayer Changes Things" slogan on our smocks, but no takers) until we were loading the bus. A man had lost his keys and was with his kids (yes, I know; we saw a lot of that down there), and he asked Josh to pray that he could find the keys. Josh did, and prayed for a little bit more, but not overmuch, and then we handed him a tract in the Love of Christ before he left. He was very grateful. I think that he and Eric were the only two truly knowledgeably kind encounters that we had that day.
There was another, but I want to talk to Gabe about it before I tell everyone else. Please pray fervently for the salvation of these souls. If James is right that our fervent prayers move God, then that is the only hope for the participants in this years celebration of sin (James 5:16). Thanks again.
That was the primary reaction I had to almost everything that passed in front of me. I tried hard not to look offended, because it would have sent the wrong message. But there were times that I failed. Like the time a guy walked by in some goofy outfit (well, more like, next to nothing at all), and I shook my head. I tried to catch myself as I realized that the man walking in the opposite direction was approaching me, but it was too late: he mimicked my head shake as he rejected my tract.
I did get a chance to speak with Eric for some time about Christ and His redemption of us from sin. I talked about how I can't make excuses for my sin, and how God can't let me into Heaven with it, and how Jesus not only cleanses our records, but He cleanses our hearts, so that we no longer desire to do sin (at least, not as much as we used to). I never brought up homosexuality--I didn't have to--but I did point out that one lie qualifies one for Hell, etc.
Sharon tried to be reasonable with a taller lady (yes, a real woman) who insisted that the Bible was a joke, that it was unscientific, that it put people down. She didn't listen to anything Sharon tried to tell her, but Sharon and Carol just pressed on until the lady finally walked away. She passed by again later shouting something at me about Jesus. I forget what she said, and what I said in reply. It was corrective, but it wasn't mean.
Of course, there was also the guy who dropped a tract on the ground and then, as he picked it up, said, "Jesus Christ!" I said, "Hey, please don't take the name of the Lord in vain."
He said, "I'm sorry, does that offend you?"
"You shouldn't worry about it offending me, because it offends Him," I responded, which is the truth: he shouldn't fear me, he should fear God.
Josh Page was asked to lead the outreach, and he was such a blessing (not that everyone else wasn't a blessing, but he just gets a special mention: the team consisted of Mike, Kim, Josh, John, me, and Sharon and Carol from Calvary Chapel Bradenton). I remember looking up at a group that was passing by while I was reloading on tracts, wishing that I had time to reach them, and there he was gently offering the message of reconciliation while this lady just wished she could bite his head off. It saddened me to watch, because of her soul, but it was kind of funny hearing the gentleness of Josh and the absolute wrath of the lady he was trying to minister to with kindness.
We ran out of tracts this year around 3 PM, so we called it quits at that point. We actually had more tracts this year than last, I think, but we did not recycle as many this year. Last year, people actually stopped to read the Cyanide Tract before throwing it down in disgust. People weren't as "caught" with the assortment of tracts that we had this year (mostly Living Waters and Custom Tract Source, including the Team Hope tract), except maybe the Good News tract that David Guild made (it's all Scripture), and, once they realized that it was about Jesus, they just threw it away, unless they were so impressed that we weren't yelling at them (yes, those guys were back) that they took it out of good will. I wish they had read it more quickly, but God knows how to work things out.
When we ran out of ordinary tracts, we started handing out bottles of water and everything else we had. We had some Gospels of John, some leaflets that help a person read Through the Bible in One Year, and some DVD's called "Stop and Think" (I haven't watched it yet, but I hear it's really good). The bottles of water at the hottest part of the day really did soften people up, for the most part, but there was one lady who insisted on hating us even when we were being so kind. We tried to reason with her, but she threw away the Gospel of John (fortunately, it was sitting on top of some paper trash, so I recycled it). I called her out on it, asking why she was throwing away the expression of God's love. She just continued to trash us.
She was so mean that her partner said she felt guilty for taking the water. We told her she had no obligation to us. It was a free gift, as Jesus gives us breath. Her daughter (I think it was her daughter) kept trying to make her be nicer, but she wouldn't have it, and she certainly didn't feel guilty in the least for taking the water we offered while calling us evil-spirited. Oh well.
Ha. Before that, one lady commented as she received the water from Kim, "Free water and religion," to which I replied, "Right: Jesus freely gives us living water!" She was surprised by the analogy and had to laugh.
I did not like to do it, but we were out of tracts and almost out of water, so I went and got the bus. We had not had any one to pray for at all (did have several people comment about the "Prayer Changes Things" slogan on our smocks, but no takers) until we were loading the bus. A man had lost his keys and was with his kids (yes, I know; we saw a lot of that down there), and he asked Josh to pray that he could find the keys. Josh did, and prayed for a little bit more, but not overmuch, and then we handed him a tract in the Love of Christ before he left. He was very grateful. I think that he and Eric were the only two truly knowledgeably kind encounters that we had that day.
There was another, but I want to talk to Gabe about it before I tell everyone else. Please pray fervently for the salvation of these souls. If James is right that our fervent prayers move God, then that is the only hope for the participants in this years celebration of sin (James 5:16). Thanks again.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Weird Day
I regularly pass by Checker's and give tracts to those eating or ordering or waiting for their food. Well, today, as I was going up to Aldi's (the most pocket-book friendly grocery store in town--eat your heart out, Wally World!), I saw this scantily-clad lady ordering food (well, I don't know if she was ordering food or not, because she didn't walk away with any, and she had an open burger wrapper in her hand). My first inclination was to just ride up and tract her, because she obviously needed Jesus (or a rebuke that the tract could deliver much better than I could), but I've been wondering if that should be my automatic reaction, because tracting her means I have to move closer to her and look at her, and I'm already struggling to put my eyes in the right place. So I was going to just pass her by and pray.
But God...
Two men were getting out of their van in the parking lot, so I went to tract them. As I did, she walked away from the window (like I said before, without any food), exclaiming, "What's wrong with everybody, can't anybody smile?!" I just held out the Zero, and she took it excitedly and said, "Thanks!"
I'm glad I was already trying to get away from her, because she then proceeded to stuff the Zero down the front of her short shorts. At first, I thought she was just pulling her wallet out of her shirt, and I didn't want to see that, either, so I just turned away, and then, as I was pedaling away, she said, "Hey!" and I turned my head, and her hand was still there in her pants. I turned back quickly. "Have a good day!" she said.
I was shocked. I pray she was truly embarrassed when she realized that she was propositioning a "preacher man." It is funny how people suddenly change once they know that you are trying to talk to them about God. More on that later.
As we near the Pride Fest, I have been noticing more homosexuals around town. In fact, the first two people I tracted this morning were lesbians. And when the second Checker's incident was developing, a lesbian young woman passed by asking if we needed water. Furthermore, I am convinced that Chipotle's employee population is at least half gay. I already saw one of the girls kiss her "friend" in the parking lot after hours, and I have watched behaviors that hint that there are more. We don't really need to wait for the Pride Fest to come along.
But on to the second Checker's incident: I was walking back home from the bank, when the Lord pressed in on my heart to speak to the man sitting on the corner by Mattress Firm. He appeared to me to be out of his right mind, and I mumbled under my breath that he would not be coherent enough to speak to about the things of God. Well, the Lord rebuked me, so I turned around and let the light go on without me, even though I had gone through all the trouble of pushing that button that holds up traffic so that I can safely cross the street and not get run over by all the crazy speeders on US 19 and Park Blvd--and I went and talked to him.
He tried to make me think that he was crazy. Eventually, he spoke the truth that he was just looking for either a meal or a beer. So I told him I could get him a meal at Checker's, so we went. I kept asking him conversational things along the way, just trying to feel out the conversation and when to speak to him about spiritual things.
It was then that the lesbian rode by on her bicycle asking if we needed water, and I noted that most gay people I get to talk to tell me how nice they are to their fellowman while they are deliberately living in rebellion against God, as if one somehow outweighs the other. In truth, they are putting their fellowman (their partners) in danger of all sorts of diseases, not to mention God's wrath, while turning their noses up at the God who gives them every breath they take. And they never think about it that way, because the devil has blinded them to it. And I didn't have a tract to hand to her, because I had reached my quota, and so I left the rest at home (I only open on 100-ct pack a day, except on Fridays for Team Hope). So I do pray that I meet her again--on the right side of Heaven, if nowhere else! But that will take some "undeceiving."
We finally got to Checker's and I had the man order what he wanted. I have no idea what the cashier was thinking when he saw me doing this for him, but that's not my problem--except that I didn't have a Gospel tract for him, either. I guess I'm going to have to dispense with my wisdom and quotas. Now, not having a tract probably made me minister to this man more, because I sincerely doubt I would have bought him the meal if I had had a tract to give to him, because I would have just handed it to him and walked on, as I have done numerous times, so it could be that the Lord did direct this. And it could be that the Lord is telling me to change how I operate even if I do have "enough" tracts.
As we waited for the meal, I tried to take him through the Good Person Test. This is when he showed his true colors--he did everything he could to avoid saying that a person who tells lies is a liar, he pretended that stealing isn't stealing (how? It's too frustrating to even think about right now), and he straight up rejected the Bible's claim that hatred makes one a murderer. So he had his right mind the whole time--my fears were definitely unfounded.
I told him that Jesus promised wrath if he did not repent, and got his name (first he started to say Patrick, then he said Willie Harris; whichever one you believe is the name you pray for), and left him in the Lord's hands.
And I just took three youths through the Good Person Test as I was writing the last two paragraphs (last night; Panera's connection goes awry after 10 PM). One girl said that she was a good person before taking the test, and they all laughed through it, but they were indeed shocked when I told them that hatred makes us murderers. I told them that God can't allow anything less that perfect righteousness into Heaven, "and it's pretty obvious that none of us sitting here has it [well, I was the only one sitting, but...], so that's why God sent His Son to be the perfect man, and to give up His righteousness and take on our sins, so that, if we give up our sins--that's called repentance [here, the first girl laughed, and the boy rebuked her for being irreverent; amazing how much unrepentant sinners really do fear God]--God will give us Jesus' perfect righteousness."
Funny question, after I explained the Gospel twice, the second girl asked, "I've always wanted to know this: where in the Bible does it say that being gay is wrong?"
"Leviticus 18:22."
The boy asked, "But what does it actually say?"
"Man shall not lay with mankind as with womankind--it is an abomination."
First girl: "But aren't we all 'man'?" (nervous laughter)
"That won't work in Heaven, sorry."
Their stomachs reminded them of why they had come to Panera Bread in the first place (they were only still standing there because it is closed), and they parted. This has been one crazy day!
But God...
Two men were getting out of their van in the parking lot, so I went to tract them. As I did, she walked away from the window (like I said before, without any food), exclaiming, "What's wrong with everybody, can't anybody smile?!" I just held out the Zero, and she took it excitedly and said, "Thanks!"
I'm glad I was already trying to get away from her, because she then proceeded to stuff the Zero down the front of her short shorts. At first, I thought she was just pulling her wallet out of her shirt, and I didn't want to see that, either, so I just turned away, and then, as I was pedaling away, she said, "Hey!" and I turned my head, and her hand was still there in her pants. I turned back quickly. "Have a good day!" she said.
I was shocked. I pray she was truly embarrassed when she realized that she was propositioning a "preacher man." It is funny how people suddenly change once they know that you are trying to talk to them about God. More on that later.
As we near the Pride Fest, I have been noticing more homosexuals around town. In fact, the first two people I tracted this morning were lesbians. And when the second Checker's incident was developing, a lesbian young woman passed by asking if we needed water. Furthermore, I am convinced that Chipotle's employee population is at least half gay. I already saw one of the girls kiss her "friend" in the parking lot after hours, and I have watched behaviors that hint that there are more. We don't really need to wait for the Pride Fest to come along.
But on to the second Checker's incident: I was walking back home from the bank, when the Lord pressed in on my heart to speak to the man sitting on the corner by Mattress Firm. He appeared to me to be out of his right mind, and I mumbled under my breath that he would not be coherent enough to speak to about the things of God. Well, the Lord rebuked me, so I turned around and let the light go on without me, even though I had gone through all the trouble of pushing that button that holds up traffic so that I can safely cross the street and not get run over by all the crazy speeders on US 19 and Park Blvd--and I went and talked to him.
He tried to make me think that he was crazy. Eventually, he spoke the truth that he was just looking for either a meal or a beer. So I told him I could get him a meal at Checker's, so we went. I kept asking him conversational things along the way, just trying to feel out the conversation and when to speak to him about spiritual things.
It was then that the lesbian rode by on her bicycle asking if we needed water, and I noted that most gay people I get to talk to tell me how nice they are to their fellowman while they are deliberately living in rebellion against God, as if one somehow outweighs the other. In truth, they are putting their fellowman (their partners) in danger of all sorts of diseases, not to mention God's wrath, while turning their noses up at the God who gives them every breath they take. And they never think about it that way, because the devil has blinded them to it. And I didn't have a tract to hand to her, because I had reached my quota, and so I left the rest at home (I only open on 100-ct pack a day, except on Fridays for Team Hope). So I do pray that I meet her again--on the right side of Heaven, if nowhere else! But that will take some "undeceiving."
We finally got to Checker's and I had the man order what he wanted. I have no idea what the cashier was thinking when he saw me doing this for him, but that's not my problem--except that I didn't have a Gospel tract for him, either. I guess I'm going to have to dispense with my wisdom and quotas. Now, not having a tract probably made me minister to this man more, because I sincerely doubt I would have bought him the meal if I had had a tract to give to him, because I would have just handed it to him and walked on, as I have done numerous times, so it could be that the Lord did direct this. And it could be that the Lord is telling me to change how I operate even if I do have "enough" tracts.
As we waited for the meal, I tried to take him through the Good Person Test. This is when he showed his true colors--he did everything he could to avoid saying that a person who tells lies is a liar, he pretended that stealing isn't stealing (how? It's too frustrating to even think about right now), and he straight up rejected the Bible's claim that hatred makes one a murderer. So he had his right mind the whole time--my fears were definitely unfounded.
I told him that Jesus promised wrath if he did not repent, and got his name (first he started to say Patrick, then he said Willie Harris; whichever one you believe is the name you pray for), and left him in the Lord's hands.
And I just took three youths through the Good Person Test as I was writing the last two paragraphs (last night; Panera's connection goes awry after 10 PM). One girl said that she was a good person before taking the test, and they all laughed through it, but they were indeed shocked when I told them that hatred makes us murderers. I told them that God can't allow anything less that perfect righteousness into Heaven, "and it's pretty obvious that none of us sitting here has it [well, I was the only one sitting, but...], so that's why God sent His Son to be the perfect man, and to give up His righteousness and take on our sins, so that, if we give up our sins--that's called repentance [here, the first girl laughed, and the boy rebuked her for being irreverent; amazing how much unrepentant sinners really do fear God]--God will give us Jesus' perfect righteousness."
Funny question, after I explained the Gospel twice, the second girl asked, "I've always wanted to know this: where in the Bible does it say that being gay is wrong?"
"Leviticus 18:22."
The boy asked, "But what does it actually say?"
"Man shall not lay with mankind as with womankind--it is an abomination."
First girl: "But aren't we all 'man'?" (nervous laughter)
"That won't work in Heaven, sorry."
Their stomachs reminded them of why they had come to Panera Bread in the first place (they were only still standing there because it is closed), and they parted. This has been one crazy day!
Friday, June 19, 2009
With or Without Tracts
So I once again yesterday forgot to take tracts with me when I went to Dunkin Donuts to use their WiFi. As I was getting ready to leave, I saw a young man and a young woman smoking at the side of the parking lot. I was going to pass them anyway, so I was kicking myself for not bringing tracts to hand to them. Of course, the Lord reminded me that I don't need tracts, but I was hesitant because they were talking (actually, gossiping). But I greeted them anyway. They paused long enough for me to ask if they had ever taken the Good Person Test. And now they were hooked.
I focused mainly on the young man, because I didn't want either of them to think I was trying to flirt with the young woman.
"Question number one: have you ever told a lie?"
"Yes, of course."
"What does that make you if you tell a lie?"
"A liar?" A bit of laughter.
"Yes, a liar. Question number two: have you ever stolen anything?"
"Yeah."
"What does that make you if you steal?"
"A stealer."
"No--" she says, "A thief," and he concurs--"thief is right, because Steelers are from Pittsburgh."
[Quizzical look followed by] "Oh!" and a smirk.
"Question number three: have you ever hated anybody?"
"No."
"Have you ever cursed at someone or called them mean names?"
"Yes."
"Is that treating them with love?"
"No."
"The opposite of love is...?"
"Hate."
"So, what does it make you if you hate somebody?"
She says, "A hater!"
"No, that's the ghetto answer." Both laugh.
"I don't know."
"A murderer."
"A murderer? No, no." A friend for whom they were apparently waiting walks up, a young woman.
"But the issue is not how much harm we do to the other person. It's how angry God will be for taking His air and using it to mistreat our fellow man. That's why 1 John chapter three verse 15 says, 'Whoever hates his brother is a murderer...'"
"So I'm not a good person then?"
"Well, you just told me that you are a liar, a thief, and a murderer by God's Standard."
"Oh, man!"
"Do you think God will find you innocent or guilty of breaking His Law?"
"Definitely guilty!"
"And what does God do with guilty people on Judgment Day?"
"Sends them to Hell!"
"So what does that say for you?"
"I'm going to Hell!!" First girl interjects--or tries to--but he shuts her down. "I am going to Hell, and there is nothing you can say or do about it!"
[I compose myself from the shock] "Do you like that idea?"
"No."
"Good! Because God does not like it either. Do you know what God did for you so you don't have to go to Hell?"
"What?"
"He sent Jesus to die for your sins."
"So that means I need to pray?"
"And ask God to forgive you and to cleanse your heart from sin."
"But I do pray and ask for forgiveness."
"Have you ever asked Him to do it because of what Jesus did on the cross?"
"No, but I will now!!"
Pray that his friends don't dissuade him but are convinced by Scripture and the Holy Spirit to do so with him.
Later, I handed someone a tract while waiting for the bus. She turned out to be a proud older woman who gladly told me that she had never murdered anyone or committed adultery, so she was sure that she was going to Heaven. Well, she does have the problem of having broken the other eight Commandments, but she was sure that those were little things, and that they didn't pose a problem. When I insisted that she needed Jesus to wipe her slate completely clean because only perfection could enter Heaven, she told me that she didn't believe in Jesus.
"Well, that's why you're on your way to Hell."
"I don't believe in Hell."
I thought of a bumper sticker that someone had shared with me a few years ago: "Still don't believe in Hell? Well, it's still there, and YOU'RE STILL GOING!!" I thought that it had too much a rejoicing-in-another's-calamity tone to it, but I guess it doesn't really matter if you are dealing with hard heart that doesn't respond to truth spoken in gentle tones (yes, I do know how to do that...sometimes).
On my way back home, I handed a tract to a young lady boarding the bus, and, after she had read it and put it in her pocket, I asked, "Headed to work?"
"Nope, headed home! I finished my work already."
"Who was that waiting with you at the bus stop?"
"Oh, that was Crystal. She used to be my girlfriend."
I hesitated. I did not want to ask this question. I was expecting her to say that that was her brother. Except that, as she had turned away, I saw some womanly features, and I was rather confused. So I ended up asking the question anyway: "Is she a lesbian?" Affirmed. "Are you one?" Yep. Lord, why? I know I'm equipped to handle this conversation, but I'd rather not.
"You read that fourth commandment on that list, right?" Nods "So you know it applies to you, right?" Nods again. Oh boy.
Mark Cahill did a video called Pride Goes Before Destruction chronicling his interactions with people at Atlanta's Pride Fest a few years back. I relied on the lessons learned from that dvd for the questions that followed.
"So when did you become a homosexual?" (A young lady named Destiny had told me at Panera Bread that her father had been suppressing homosexual desires from birth. I told her that professionals had finally admitted that there was no scientific evidence for inborn homosexual desire, and she was surprised. Now I was talking to one, and I wish she could have been a fly on the wall. Oh well. Maybe I'll forward this to her email.)
"Well, I had been having desires since I was nine, but I didn't do anything about it until 10th grade." And she gave a summary.
"Why did you wait so long to act on your desire?" I actually don't remember her response.
"Where you ever abused?"
"Yes, by my father, when I was nine." Bingo! The bus had stopped at Park Place Mall, so we got off so she could smoke a cigarrette (yeah, I know, but I had bigger fish to fry at the moment). "Why do you ask?"
"Most people who choose the homosexual lifestyle have been abused. ... Women need love, men look for respect [I had refreshed myself with a look at the Workbook from the Love and Respect Conference back in February]...men have to learn to love. If a woman doesn't receive love for a man, she says, 'Well, I know where I can find love'--in a woman--and she goes that route." Sarah was nodding fervently. "But that's not God's design. I cannot ever justify what your father did to you, and I will never try. But your response is not right."
She asked me some questions about judging and condemnation. I was able to show her that 1) I don't make the rules, 2) I've broken the rules myself, 3) all of us deserve Hell, and 4) if I didn't warn her about the end of the road she was on, I would have to answer to God. Then I asked her, "Have you ever told a lie?"
"Oh, yes, many times."
"Well, the first time you told a lie, you were in a lot more trouble than being a lesbian will ever get you into. The Bible condemns lying in many more places than it does homosexuality. Have you ever stolen anything?"
She laughed, "When I was a kid, I stole a pack of gum."
I could see that. "When I was a kid, my mom told me that I couldn't have some candy, I waited until she wasn't looking, and I took it anyway. And the Book of Proverbs is full of God's commandments not to use false weights and false balances to cheat people and steal their money. But it speaks very little on homosexuality, even though it still is an abomination."
It was time to board the bus again. "Everyone has their favorite sin, but Jesus wants to take it all away from us. My favorite sin may be different from yours. It could be pornography [which I have struggled with before], it could be lying. In fact, when I was a kid, lying was indeed my biggest sin. But God made me give it up. He told me plainly, 'I can't use you if you hold onto that,' and it's true for any sin. So don't feel like I'm picking on you!" She didn't.
Finally, I told her that she was the lost sheep in Jesus' parable. Turns out that I had missed the bus before by a only a few minutes, and she had missed the same bus by only one minute. Guaranteed that bus was more crowded, considering the time of the day, and I just left it in the Lord's hands when I realized that I had missed it (I didn't have a schedule with me, but, if a bus doesn't come in five to ten minute, you can be sure that you just missed the last one).
Her name was Sarah, her ex "girlfriend's" name is Crystal, her current gf is Elizabeth, and Crystal's current gf is also named Elizabeth. I did tell her that all of them would be on my prayer list. And now they are on yours, too. Thanks for praying.
I focused mainly on the young man, because I didn't want either of them to think I was trying to flirt with the young woman.
"Question number one: have you ever told a lie?"
"Yes, of course."
"What does that make you if you tell a lie?"
"A liar?" A bit of laughter.
"Yes, a liar. Question number two: have you ever stolen anything?"
"Yeah."
"What does that make you if you steal?"
"A stealer."
"No--" she says, "A thief," and he concurs--"thief is right, because Steelers are from Pittsburgh."
[Quizzical look followed by] "Oh!" and a smirk.
"Question number three: have you ever hated anybody?"
"No."
"Have you ever cursed at someone or called them mean names?"
"Yes."
"Is that treating them with love?"
"No."
"The opposite of love is...?"
"Hate."
"So, what does it make you if you hate somebody?"
She says, "A hater!"
"No, that's the ghetto answer." Both laugh.
"I don't know."
"A murderer."
"A murderer? No, no." A friend for whom they were apparently waiting walks up, a young woman.
"But the issue is not how much harm we do to the other person. It's how angry God will be for taking His air and using it to mistreat our fellow man. That's why 1 John chapter three verse 15 says, 'Whoever hates his brother is a murderer...'"
"So I'm not a good person then?"
"Well, you just told me that you are a liar, a thief, and a murderer by God's Standard."
"Oh, man!"
"Do you think God will find you innocent or guilty of breaking His Law?"
"Definitely guilty!"
"And what does God do with guilty people on Judgment Day?"
"Sends them to Hell!"
"So what does that say for you?"
"I'm going to Hell!!" First girl interjects--or tries to--but he shuts her down. "I am going to Hell, and there is nothing you can say or do about it!"
[I compose myself from the shock] "Do you like that idea?"
"No."
"Good! Because God does not like it either. Do you know what God did for you so you don't have to go to Hell?"
"What?"
"He sent Jesus to die for your sins."
"So that means I need to pray?"
"And ask God to forgive you and to cleanse your heart from sin."
"But I do pray and ask for forgiveness."
"Have you ever asked Him to do it because of what Jesus did on the cross?"
"No, but I will now!!"
Pray that his friends don't dissuade him but are convinced by Scripture and the Holy Spirit to do so with him.
Later, I handed someone a tract while waiting for the bus. She turned out to be a proud older woman who gladly told me that she had never murdered anyone or committed adultery, so she was sure that she was going to Heaven. Well, she does have the problem of having broken the other eight Commandments, but she was sure that those were little things, and that they didn't pose a problem. When I insisted that she needed Jesus to wipe her slate completely clean because only perfection could enter Heaven, she told me that she didn't believe in Jesus.
"Well, that's why you're on your way to Hell."
"I don't believe in Hell."
I thought of a bumper sticker that someone had shared with me a few years ago: "Still don't believe in Hell? Well, it's still there, and YOU'RE STILL GOING!!" I thought that it had too much a rejoicing-in-another's-calamity tone to it, but I guess it doesn't really matter if you are dealing with hard heart that doesn't respond to truth spoken in gentle tones (yes, I do know how to do that...sometimes).
On my way back home, I handed a tract to a young lady boarding the bus, and, after she had read it and put it in her pocket, I asked, "Headed to work?"
"Nope, headed home! I finished my work already."
"Who was that waiting with you at the bus stop?"
"Oh, that was Crystal. She used to be my girlfriend."
I hesitated. I did not want to ask this question. I was expecting her to say that that was her brother. Except that, as she had turned away, I saw some womanly features, and I was rather confused. So I ended up asking the question anyway: "Is she a lesbian?" Affirmed. "Are you one?" Yep. Lord, why? I know I'm equipped to handle this conversation, but I'd rather not.
"You read that fourth commandment on that list, right?" Nods "So you know it applies to you, right?" Nods again. Oh boy.
Mark Cahill did a video called Pride Goes Before Destruction chronicling his interactions with people at Atlanta's Pride Fest a few years back. I relied on the lessons learned from that dvd for the questions that followed.
"So when did you become a homosexual?" (A young lady named Destiny had told me at Panera Bread that her father had been suppressing homosexual desires from birth. I told her that professionals had finally admitted that there was no scientific evidence for inborn homosexual desire, and she was surprised. Now I was talking to one, and I wish she could have been a fly on the wall. Oh well. Maybe I'll forward this to her email.)
"Well, I had been having desires since I was nine, but I didn't do anything about it until 10th grade." And she gave a summary.
"Why did you wait so long to act on your desire?" I actually don't remember her response.
"Where you ever abused?"
"Yes, by my father, when I was nine." Bingo! The bus had stopped at Park Place Mall, so we got off so she could smoke a cigarrette (yeah, I know, but I had bigger fish to fry at the moment). "Why do you ask?"
"Most people who choose the homosexual lifestyle have been abused. ... Women need love, men look for respect [I had refreshed myself with a look at the Workbook from the Love and Respect Conference back in February]...men have to learn to love. If a woman doesn't receive love for a man, she says, 'Well, I know where I can find love'--in a woman--and she goes that route." Sarah was nodding fervently. "But that's not God's design. I cannot ever justify what your father did to you, and I will never try. But your response is not right."
She asked me some questions about judging and condemnation. I was able to show her that 1) I don't make the rules, 2) I've broken the rules myself, 3) all of us deserve Hell, and 4) if I didn't warn her about the end of the road she was on, I would have to answer to God. Then I asked her, "Have you ever told a lie?"
"Oh, yes, many times."
"Well, the first time you told a lie, you were in a lot more trouble than being a lesbian will ever get you into. The Bible condemns lying in many more places than it does homosexuality. Have you ever stolen anything?"
She laughed, "When I was a kid, I stole a pack of gum."
I could see that. "When I was a kid, my mom told me that I couldn't have some candy, I waited until she wasn't looking, and I took it anyway. And the Book of Proverbs is full of God's commandments not to use false weights and false balances to cheat people and steal their money. But it speaks very little on homosexuality, even though it still is an abomination."
It was time to board the bus again. "Everyone has their favorite sin, but Jesus wants to take it all away from us. My favorite sin may be different from yours. It could be pornography [which I have struggled with before], it could be lying. In fact, when I was a kid, lying was indeed my biggest sin. But God made me give it up. He told me plainly, 'I can't use you if you hold onto that,' and it's true for any sin. So don't feel like I'm picking on you!" She didn't.
Finally, I told her that she was the lost sheep in Jesus' parable. Turns out that I had missed the bus before by a only a few minutes, and she had missed the same bus by only one minute. Guaranteed that bus was more crowded, considering the time of the day, and I just left it in the Lord's hands when I realized that I had missed it (I didn't have a schedule with me, but, if a bus doesn't come in five to ten minute, you can be sure that you just missed the last one).
Her name was Sarah, her ex "girlfriend's" name is Crystal, her current gf is Elizabeth, and Crystal's current gf is also named Elizabeth. I did tell her that all of them would be on my prayer list. And now they are on yours, too. Thanks for praying.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Yeah, Keep on Praying
So Karen Stofer prayed for me during Mission Minded, Tuesday evening, and...the Lord responded.
As I was bicycling home, I crossed the street because of the light change at Wal-Mart (I didn't want to stop, and crossing put me on the other side of the street, closer to home, without needing to watch traffic), and, passing the bus stop, I saw a man to whom I had given a Gospel tract the day before. I didn't know why the Lord told me to do this, but I felt led to give him another one, which I usually don't do (unless it's Everett Battle, who definitely needs prayer--and I haven't seen him in a long time, so that bothers me; Everett is the wild-haired black man who has enough mental issues that he threatened people at Calvary Chapel, even though we had done everything possible to help him; he is suspected to be demon-possessed).
He remembered getting the tract from me, told me that his name was Nick, and his wife, whom he was having to stand at the Wal-Mart light to beg, is named Lauren. He was drunk and drinking some more, and he was riled up. I asked him why, and he told me that one of the two guys in the bus shelter with him, who had now walked away, had beaten and raped his wife while he (Nick) was spending a year in prison last year. Wow. You know, I hear about people not wanting homeless people around, but I never really paid a lot of attention as to why.
Suddenly, Nick looked over to where Lauren was standing, and that guy was walking with her toward Wal-Mart. Uh-oh. Nick started running, and I turned my bicycle around and followed. I had to go up that little exit ramp for the gas station (wrong way, I know), because I could not have jumped the curb (I'm not that accomplished, I just ride), and I knew I had to hurry, because Nick was out for blood--and who could blame him?
Turns out the guy had told Lauren that Nick had said for him and her to go get a beer together. Nick, understandably, was furious, recognizing that the guy was setting another trap for her. He was punching at him and actually landed a couple blows to the man's face. I only stopped him because I knew that Nick would get arrested. But it was scary standing up to a drunk, angry man and telling him to back off. I was trusting the Lord and the fact that our conversation had gone well before (even though I was rather straight with him about his need to repent).
I told the guy to walk away, but he kept sticking around, drawing Nick's ire even more. I told Nick that I would handle it, once the man finally retreated to the main parking lot, and told Nick to return to Lauren. I told the man that I would call the cops if he didn't leave right away. He told me that he had been trying to. HA!! So, why on earth was he just standing on the other side of the pump after Nick had walloped him? I told him to stop lying and walk, and he did.
Back at the bus stop, I pressed Nick to repent, telling him that his willful continuance in sin was putting Lauren in danger (which is the truth, though his own soul should be good enough reason to repent). He downed the rest of his beer and rejoined her over by the light. Please pray for them all.
Then, after getting home and going to bed, I heard my neighbor Dave coming home. He had told me last week that he had quit drinking and drugs cold turkey and that he was going through painful withdrawal, and there was plenty of evidence to back it up (he was more aware of his surroundings, and his face was clearer). But now he was with a friend and rejoicing about how the bottle in his hand was "9% alcohol" and how it took a lot of beers for him to get drunk (um, not if you are human, and certainly not if you have given your body a chance to clear itself of all that poison). I wrestled with what to do. Dave has called on me for help many times, asking for money (which I have never given him), wanting to talk (sometimes I can do that), or needing to use my phone (because the idiots he hangs out with steal his cell time after time; I have let him whenever I've been home, as long as I can reasonably deduce that he is not using it to buy more drugs), and he had told me that he was really determined to quit. And now this.
I didn't struggle long. I got up, got dressed, put my sandals on, went outside, and knocked on his door.
"Who the ----- is it?"
"It's Joshua."
"Oh. ...Hey man, what's up?"
"Are you drinking again?"
"Yeah, a little bit."
"A little bit?"
"Yeah" (Nervous laughter)
"It's not funny." (stern look)
"I know. But he's a good friend, and he's goes to college--"
"He's not a good friend if he's getting you back into alcohol--he's a jerk!" And I walked away.
And, yes, his friend heard what I said, but he was probably too busy drinking away and watching TV to care. These are the kinds of people that Dave has surrounded himself with, and they drag him down everytime. It is patently painful to watch, but Dave won't get rid of them. He doesn't have a job, so he always wants to just hang out, but I can't afford to do that, not if I want to get paid!
Dave did ask me not to "be that way" as I walked off, but I can't take it anymore. I'm tired of him letting his so-called friends get the best of him and then crying to his mom on my phone because his is gone.
And then this morning, I was headed to Panera Bread, realized I didn't have any tracts with me, crossed the street anyway, got inside, got convicted, headed back. As I was waiting to cross the street, I saw another homeless drunk guy sitting on something electrical under the Gandy overpass (on the West side) with his bicycle nearby, and drinking some more. I prayed about it, and then walked over to him as he put his bottle away in his blue backpack.
"How are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm fine...I have a question for you: why do you drink so much."
"My father died when I was a baby, he was in the Army."
"When did you start drinking?"
"[something garbled] When I was nine."
Wow.
"I need to get to a pay phone" -- he had said this several times-- "so I need to get going." I pointed him in the direction of the only pay phone I know about, the one at Citgo, and let him go.
On the way home, I prayed and prayed, grabbed some tracts, and decided to go after him, since I knew where he was going. When I caught up with him and spoke to him further, he revealed to me that he didn't want to talk about Christianity because he had had an experience with Churchianity, and "I lost the Eucharist," and it all went down hill from there. Plus, he told me that he was a loser.
I seized that: "Jesus came for losers."
"No, He didn't. He was a MAN!"
"Yes, I know that, but He became a man so that He could forgive us."
Over and over we went, but he continued to refuse. How I hate it that some well-intentioned person somehow communicated to him that Jesus was too much of a man to be bother with the likes of him. No, Jesus came specifically for losers, drunks, whores, traitors, snitches, homosexuals, liars, and anyone else who will admit how evil they really are. But he didn't feel that way.
I persisted in giving him a Zero Dollar Bill, which he finally took, hoping that one day he will be sober enough to understand the Good News it contains. His name is Raymond.
Other prayer requests:
My sister is still working to bring the Gospel to that Muslim woman. Please keep her and her family in prayer.
And my grandmother on my dad's side is failing in health. She is 74, and has had a bout with cancer, so this isn't a big surprise, but it isn't pleasant at all. I am praying about making arrangements to return to St Louis soon if she doesn't improve.
Thanks for praying for Lori Ogle's fundraiser earlier this month. It was largely successful, and she is not too far off the mark. Those inclined to support her who don't attend Calvary Chapel St Pete can look her information up at Calvary Chapel's web page for her (it is out of date, but that will change; the donation information has not changed, though). Donors don't need to commit large sums--$5 a month is good help.
Lastly, please keep our outreach to the gay Pride Fest St Pete, happening June 27. The plan is to have the Prayer Station at the last block before the entrance to the festival itself. This is a high traffic area, and it isn't illegal for us to be there. The more we invite them to be prayed for, in addition to preaching the truth to them in love, the easier it will be to show them the whole picture of God, not the one-sided half-truths they've been enslaved to all their lives.
Thanks again!
As I was bicycling home, I crossed the street because of the light change at Wal-Mart (I didn't want to stop, and crossing put me on the other side of the street, closer to home, without needing to watch traffic), and, passing the bus stop, I saw a man to whom I had given a Gospel tract the day before. I didn't know why the Lord told me to do this, but I felt led to give him another one, which I usually don't do (unless it's Everett Battle, who definitely needs prayer--and I haven't seen him in a long time, so that bothers me; Everett is the wild-haired black man who has enough mental issues that he threatened people at Calvary Chapel, even though we had done everything possible to help him; he is suspected to be demon-possessed).
He remembered getting the tract from me, told me that his name was Nick, and his wife, whom he was having to stand at the Wal-Mart light to beg, is named Lauren. He was drunk and drinking some more, and he was riled up. I asked him why, and he told me that one of the two guys in the bus shelter with him, who had now walked away, had beaten and raped his wife while he (Nick) was spending a year in prison last year. Wow. You know, I hear about people not wanting homeless people around, but I never really paid a lot of attention as to why.
Suddenly, Nick looked over to where Lauren was standing, and that guy was walking with her toward Wal-Mart. Uh-oh. Nick started running, and I turned my bicycle around and followed. I had to go up that little exit ramp for the gas station (wrong way, I know), because I could not have jumped the curb (I'm not that accomplished, I just ride), and I knew I had to hurry, because Nick was out for blood--and who could blame him?
Turns out the guy had told Lauren that Nick had said for him and her to go get a beer together. Nick, understandably, was furious, recognizing that the guy was setting another trap for her. He was punching at him and actually landed a couple blows to the man's face. I only stopped him because I knew that Nick would get arrested. But it was scary standing up to a drunk, angry man and telling him to back off. I was trusting the Lord and the fact that our conversation had gone well before (even though I was rather straight with him about his need to repent).
I told the guy to walk away, but he kept sticking around, drawing Nick's ire even more. I told Nick that I would handle it, once the man finally retreated to the main parking lot, and told Nick to return to Lauren. I told the man that I would call the cops if he didn't leave right away. He told me that he had been trying to. HA!! So, why on earth was he just standing on the other side of the pump after Nick had walloped him? I told him to stop lying and walk, and he did.
Back at the bus stop, I pressed Nick to repent, telling him that his willful continuance in sin was putting Lauren in danger (which is the truth, though his own soul should be good enough reason to repent). He downed the rest of his beer and rejoined her over by the light. Please pray for them all.
Then, after getting home and going to bed, I heard my neighbor Dave coming home. He had told me last week that he had quit drinking and drugs cold turkey and that he was going through painful withdrawal, and there was plenty of evidence to back it up (he was more aware of his surroundings, and his face was clearer). But now he was with a friend and rejoicing about how the bottle in his hand was "9% alcohol" and how it took a lot of beers for him to get drunk (um, not if you are human, and certainly not if you have given your body a chance to clear itself of all that poison). I wrestled with what to do. Dave has called on me for help many times, asking for money (which I have never given him), wanting to talk (sometimes I can do that), or needing to use my phone (because the idiots he hangs out with steal his cell time after time; I have let him whenever I've been home, as long as I can reasonably deduce that he is not using it to buy more drugs), and he had told me that he was really determined to quit. And now this.
I didn't struggle long. I got up, got dressed, put my sandals on, went outside, and knocked on his door.
"Who the ----- is it?"
"It's Joshua."
"Oh. ...Hey man, what's up?"
"Are you drinking again?"
"Yeah, a little bit."
"A little bit?"
"Yeah" (Nervous laughter)
"It's not funny." (stern look)
"I know. But he's a good friend, and he's goes to college--"
"He's not a good friend if he's getting you back into alcohol--he's a jerk!" And I walked away.
And, yes, his friend heard what I said, but he was probably too busy drinking away and watching TV to care. These are the kinds of people that Dave has surrounded himself with, and they drag him down everytime. It is patently painful to watch, but Dave won't get rid of them. He doesn't have a job, so he always wants to just hang out, but I can't afford to do that, not if I want to get paid!
Dave did ask me not to "be that way" as I walked off, but I can't take it anymore. I'm tired of him letting his so-called friends get the best of him and then crying to his mom on my phone because his is gone.
And then this morning, I was headed to Panera Bread, realized I didn't have any tracts with me, crossed the street anyway, got inside, got convicted, headed back. As I was waiting to cross the street, I saw another homeless drunk guy sitting on something electrical under the Gandy overpass (on the West side) with his bicycle nearby, and drinking some more. I prayed about it, and then walked over to him as he put his bottle away in his blue backpack.
"How are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm fine...I have a question for you: why do you drink so much."
"My father died when I was a baby, he was in the Army."
"When did you start drinking?"
"[something garbled] When I was nine."
Wow.
"I need to get to a pay phone" -- he had said this several times-- "so I need to get going." I pointed him in the direction of the only pay phone I know about, the one at Citgo, and let him go.
On the way home, I prayed and prayed, grabbed some tracts, and decided to go after him, since I knew where he was going. When I caught up with him and spoke to him further, he revealed to me that he didn't want to talk about Christianity because he had had an experience with Churchianity, and "I lost the Eucharist," and it all went down hill from there. Plus, he told me that he was a loser.
I seized that: "Jesus came for losers."
"No, He didn't. He was a MAN!"
"Yes, I know that, but He became a man so that He could forgive us."
Over and over we went, but he continued to refuse. How I hate it that some well-intentioned person somehow communicated to him that Jesus was too much of a man to be bother with the likes of him. No, Jesus came specifically for losers, drunks, whores, traitors, snitches, homosexuals, liars, and anyone else who will admit how evil they really are. But he didn't feel that way.
I persisted in giving him a Zero Dollar Bill, which he finally took, hoping that one day he will be sober enough to understand the Good News it contains. His name is Raymond.
Other prayer requests:
My sister is still working to bring the Gospel to that Muslim woman. Please keep her and her family in prayer.
And my grandmother on my dad's side is failing in health. She is 74, and has had a bout with cancer, so this isn't a big surprise, but it isn't pleasant at all. I am praying about making arrangements to return to St Louis soon if she doesn't improve.
Thanks for praying for Lori Ogle's fundraiser earlier this month. It was largely successful, and she is not too far off the mark. Those inclined to support her who don't attend Calvary Chapel St Pete can look her information up at Calvary Chapel's web page for her (it is out of date, but that will change; the donation information has not changed, though). Donors don't need to commit large sums--$5 a month is good help.
Lastly, please keep our outreach to the gay Pride Fest St Pete, happening June 27. The plan is to have the Prayer Station at the last block before the entrance to the festival itself. This is a high traffic area, and it isn't illegal for us to be there. The more we invite them to be prayed for, in addition to preaching the truth to them in love, the easier it will be to show them the whole picture of God, not the one-sided half-truths they've been enslaved to all their lives.
Thanks again!
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