FAIR SUNSHINE

To desire Christ is, in truth, the highest petition a soul can ever breathe before the Throne. Yet we must beware the delusion of the flesh, which seeks to sever the glories of Christ in Heaven from the cross of Christ upon the earth. As fallen and selfish creatures, we naturally incline toward a path that offers the greatest reward at the least cost. The world is full of those who would grasp at wealth without labor, at comfort without effort, and at the indulgence of lust without the weight of its consequence. In the same manner, many seek a faith that requires no work, a Christianity that demands no suffering, and—in the ultimate vanity—a crown that requires no cross. To follow the Master is to walk the narrow road He trod; it is to find that the height of our future exaltation is forever measured by the depth of our present surrender. We cannot have the light of His countenance without the shadow of His sacrifice, for the path to glory leads through the garden of Gethsemane an...

T he night before, the thought of this place was fixed firmly in my mind. Caloocan was not part of my itinerary, yet by morning I felt a settled necessity to go there. The journey to Malaria and back was some forty-three kilometers; and though I could not then see the purpose for such a path, I committed my steps to the Lord's certain leading. Upon arriving, I found the road was closed off, and the way blocked by a great throng of people filling the street. I had at first supposed that a protest had broken out, for the streets were filled with a restless energy that suggested a rally. Yet, I learned that it was the hour for the parents of the town to fetch their children from school. The timing was not the product of chance, but the precision of a Master who is never early and never late. At the very moment the crowd was most dense, the way was opened for the Word to be sown. Truly, the Lord who ordains the end also perfectly arranges the means, turning even a common school-gate i...

W e have stepped, as it were, into a sanctuary of deeper reverence, beholding at last the Savior’s divine Lordship over our own souls and over all of His creation. If our previous study of the divine covenants had already stirred us to earnestness—revealing the meticulous hand of God in all of redemptive history—how much more so now? Truly, none of this would have been possible had the Lord not graciously uprooted us from our former church, leading us away from the shallows of mere form and the vanity of dead routine, and out into these glorious, deeper waters. We now see as through a glass, with a vision growing more clear—though the full glory remains yet veiled. Yet we see enough to grasp the profound mystery: why He is truly our God, and why we are numbered among His people. We perceive at last that our lives have not been the wandering turns of human choices, but a river carved and directed by the unseen hand of His providence, carrying us by His sovereign design to this very sh...

I have often looked upon the cold pavement of the marketplace—and I have found myself envying them. They have no heart to break. They do not feel the weight of a person’s eternity, nor do they throb with the bitter aftertaste of a Gospel rejected. They have no tongue that must speak. They know nothing of the burden of the L ORD , that heavy and holy 'must' which compels the fumbling tongue to disturb the world's false peace and cry out for the sake of eternity. They are not called to be a spectacle, nor to endure the indifference of the crowd. They simply exist. To be a stone is to be silent and unfeeling, but to be a servant of Christ is to be made of glass and fire—fragile enough to be broken by the sins of others, yet compelled to burn with a truth that the world cannot contain nor know nothing about. Should I then envy a stone that knows nothing of God? I move among people looking like a man at peace, but inside I am caught in a storm of the Spirit’s making. On m...

I confess that come noon, I struggled once more with a debilitating timidity. The flesh was overflowing with excuses, and though a destination was fixed in my mind, my heart lacked the will to travel that far. I did as I always do: I fell to my knees. My obedience cannot lean upon my own meager capacity to go—that well is often dry; it must rest solely upon His worthiness to be proclaimed. I pleaded with the Lord on behalf of the poor souls I was to meet, praying that if He should send this weak vessel, His Word might descend with power. And the Lord was indeed gracious. Sustained by the intercessions of the brethren—those silent partners in the labor—I preached Christ. The Word did not return void today. When the messenger is brought low, the Message is lifted high.   It was in Gethsemane that the battle was won even before Golgotha. When I kneel and plead for the souls of the people, I am not merely seeking strength; I am laying my 'wretched flesh' upon the altar, until ...

I traveled unto Calumpit , the final gate before the province of Pampanga , only to find the town market nearly deserted. I lost the afternoon light going here, the sun was setting, and I was uncertain of where to turn.  I petitioned the L ORD  to lead me, and He brought me before this great park where the people moved in droves. Though I sought permission to enter, the authorities forbade my intentions inside the grounds—even while loud music and amplified voices of students rehearsing their play filled the air. I was pointed to the street, and there, before the Municipal Hall, I took my post. With the vendors as my congregation and the joggers passing as a moving stream, I was assisted by the Spirit to lift my voice and lift up Christ. The world offered its usual indifference, yet I know there were listeners amongst the shadows. The evening meant my meager bodycam could capture no image of the scene, but it was enough for me that the Master of the Harvest saw the la...

Therefore they that were scattered abroad went every where preaching the word. Acts 8:4 W e have long observed that when a right knowledge of God travels from the head down to the heart, it moves the feet, and brings forth a courage most peculiar. It is not the boisterous boldness of a loud nature, but a 'fearful apprehension' of the Almighty that simply outweighs the trembling fear of men. We see this same Spirit in the scholars and heralds of old, who found that their deep study was but a fire that must eventually find a vent. Among them was Hugh Binning, the youthful professor, who left the safety of his parchment to speak plainly to thick crowds of common folk, laboring his very soul to death by the age of twenty-six. There was George Wishart, who forsook the academic life to stand atop the stone walls of Dundee, preaching between the living and the dying. He was a Scottish Protestant Reformer and one of the early Protestant martyrs burned at the stake as a heretic. ...

F eeling a heavy disappointment that the fear of man had so easily overtaken me at Crossing Wet Market , I began a timid retreat toward home. I turned down a road I had never intended in taking, thinking only to clear my clouded mind with a longer ride. Yet, after some time, I found myself stopped at a most familiar intersection—a place where I had stood twice before with brethren. The afternoon was late, and the people filled the street in thick company. I saw a small space to park, yet my heart wavered; I passed it by, caught between the desire for the peace of home and the heavy 'woe' of the Gospel (1 Corinthians 9:16) . But seeing an opening in the road, I could proceed no further. I turned back. I had no leaflet to give away this time; my tracts were exhausted. It was now time to exhaust my voice. I stood before the thick of the crowd, and in that moment of extremity, I was empowered with a strange but familiar fire. It was a flame not of my own kindli...