Still Standing

Still sitting...
Still lying with my face on the floor, like a dead man.

PT said, "Stand on any street corner; sit in any church...any school...too ashamed to die."

So, I did. I stood there and prayed in front of the movie theater at Hunt Valley, loaded with kids. In the corner was a group of youth, one with a spiked mohawk, who entertained his friends by sticking a white rat in his mouth, as if to eat it. After awhile of praying, I found that he was standing next to me, so we chatted and I asked him about Jesus. But, he's a satanist who "doesn't worship satan." I explained that Christ died for him and that Jesus is the only way into heaven, but with out Christ we're damned to eternal hell and he walked away, actually, it seemed as if he flew.

I went home very sad that most likely the church kids avoid this crowd, are too busy with their Bible studies, electronic games, and coffee houses--that many really don't care, are too afraid, or are taught to avoid them. And, I'm wondering where are the Meghans, Ceces, Maddies, and Destinys?

After much prayer, I'm encouraged that God will continue the good work He began, that His arm is not too short to reach all flesh, and that I must continue, faithfully and full of faith--expressing the love, the Gospel truth, and the way.

The next evening, I stood on a corner in Gettyburg (in front of a pub). It was cold so I started shadow boxing as I prayed. A guy came out of the bar and called me over to talk:
"He-sus!" (He called me, because the sweatshirt says "Jesus.")
He had a lot of questions. As a firefighter, he's seen a lot of tragedy and he's bitter, hurt, angry...so he drinks to self-medicate, and he knows it's wrong, but doesn't think that he will ever change, that that will ever change about him, or that Christ can heal him. I was able to pray with him about it, believing and knowing that God can change him and his heart.

I thank God for a heart of compassion. I thank God for the gift of mercy, to cry out for the lost. I thank God for the boldness to move ahead confident, in Him who died for us.

Last night, the Holy Spirit kept speaking into me: "I died for you."
I said, "I know."
And today, the reflection is this:
So, what does that mean to me?

And for you, believers, what does that mean to you?

During this season called "Passover," many church goers will give up something for lent. I've been thinking about "Lent." For years, I would practice this ritual of giving up something that I really enjoy, but for what purpose? Did I give to the poor? Did I help the needy? Did I share the good news? Or did I just go through the motions?

This season, let this song hold true for believers everywhere:
"I don't wanna go through the motions."

I don't wanna just go through the motions of saying I'm a Christian with out a heart of compassion and love for the lost, and with out doing something about it. How about you?

Blessings to you who do (this), Saints and believers.


ABOUT MARDI GRAS: the last night.

Our last night on the streets, we go out with the hopes of bringing in "just one more," (to the kingdom of God--for salvation--souls.) There were two significant people to whom I was blessed to have met. One, is a guy who is looking at doing time for life. He plans to go to jail soon and sees no way out--forever. Wow. I had just heard several testimonies of people who had not been punished to the full extent of the law, whose sentence had been cut short. One had actually been bailed out. Another, the court lost the paper work; I've met several people to whom this has happened.
Testimonies of such led me to the Lord before I knew Christ. So, I shared that hope with this guy.

The scary part: this guy confessed that he had a gun on his bike and a knife in his pocket and was ready to take some people with him if anyone messed with him that night. Of course, I asked him if that meant me too? I didn't feel threatened by him. Still, I kept looking for back-up help. One guy who had been reading his Bible on the corner, I thought he was my back up, but he was gone when I looked for him. I waved to a few others to help, but they turned away as if not to see me motioning to come over. So, I just had to trust God, that I'm covered and that no harm would come to me. I had a great peace about it.

Suddenly, a naked woman, painted with flowers, was next to me on that corner and a crowd surrounded us. The men were gawking at her chest. Cameras were flashing. There was an old guy who I'd tried to talk to every night. He always walked away, wouldn't listen. That night, there he was, captive--wide-eyed with camera in hand, grinning at the naked painted woman. I asked him if he knew that he was a pervert. Maybe, this time, the truth sunk in.

The awesome thing: I got to talk to the girl,
Naked and unashamed,
and tell her about the love of Jesus.
I don't remember her name.
But, I think she understands,
that she doesn't have to that anymore--be exploited like that--that she's precious to Him-a real treasure.

What a blessing-to talk to her
And I know that God will continue the good work He began.
Amen?
Amen.