The Walking Dead

And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment: Hebrews 9:27

November 1 is a big festivity here in the Philippines. It is when the whole nation pour into cemeteries to supposedly pray for the dead. I have been, for the better part of my life, part of this celebration, which in reality is more of a get-together for families going there to have picnics instead of contemplating what's really in front of them that day. As a young teen I was in charge of setting up the family tent the night before All Soul's Day. The atmosphere is more of a college fair than an actual observance of the dearly departed: young people walking around checking out if there are cute guys or girls near the family plot, kite flying, music, food, candle stealing, flower stealing, drinking, laughing, and of course saying the rosary, which I can honestly say, accomplished nothing.

Holy Cross Memorial Park, Quirino Highway, Novaliches

We headed out around 9 P.M. to to my family cemetery 20 kilometers from where we lived. But we weren't there for the dead. We wanted to reach out to the living. It was raining and traffic in the vicinity of the cemetery stood horrendously still. The situation inside the cemetery was bad then, but now it was worse. The cemetery has transformed into one huge fast food plaza. Big and small businesses were setup. KFC, Greenwich, Shakey's Pizza, even Seattle's Best had a booth setup right smack in the midst of the plots. It was a deplorable circus. We found a space to park walking distance from the chapel which was our target, and we headed there afterwards. It was still raining. But like I said, rain is a street preacher's best friend. People were taking shelter inside the chapel doing nothing else but talk and fiddle with their phones. I stood right in front of them for half an hour under the rain, praying and waiting on the Lord. I have never dared to say anything without a nod from the King. Speaking may come easy for seasoned public speakers, but for a life-long introvert like me, the thought is truly terrifying. The mocking and teasing this night was the usual tirade I get for standing there looking like a fool holding planks in the form of a cross. I prayed asking what I am to do next. I received a gentle impression, but it was one that I didn't want to acknowledge. So I humbly asked, "I need a nod from you, Father. Please allow me lift up Christ. Please let me lift up Christ."

I got more than a nod. I got a "Go near them and speak" nod. But at that moment my legs seemed to have a mind of their own as I suddenly found myself walking towards the people in the chapel. Utterly terrified, I stood there, introduced myself to the audience of about eighty people, and spoke the Gospel. My mind went immediately to praise as my mouth automatically spoke without thinking. Rivers of living water was pouring out of my belly. Here I was, speaking the Gospel inside a Catholic chapel, to people visiting their dead. How strange is my God and how wonderful at the same time is his hand. For more than 45 minutes the people sat, stood and listened intently to the gravity of their offense against a Holy God and against His law, the saving grace of God's providence in Christ Jesus, and the terrifying surety of the judgement that is to come upon all who dwell on the earth. I have never be more overwhelmed with joy than when I am speaking about the goodness, and severity, of God in Christ Jesus. We handed out tracts after we ended and thanked everyone for their time.

We were followed out on the street by two of our listeners when we left. Two teenagers, one of whom is named Jeremy, the other being his cousin, told us they were blessed by the message and the encounter. He showed us a worn out tract he uses, and told us that he himself is sharing the Lord to people, though not in public. We admonished them that that in itself is the Lord's work. Serving the Lord doesn't have to be grand and magnificent, it only has to faithfully obedient. I pray the Lord would be pleased to keep and encourage these young ones to continue in the Lord's path. We gave them a tract with out contact numbers and parted ways. Let us pray for souls such as these that God would raise up more laborers to his harvest field.

After a late night meal along the way, the Lord blessed us with a safe drive home. We retired around 2 A.M. bracing ourselves for yet the coming work tomorrow.

St. Joseph Public Cemetery, M. Villarica Road, SJDM, Bulacan

We originally wanted to join our brethren in WCF Bocaue for today's outreach then afterwards move to our local cemetery in San Jose Del Monte, Bulacan, but it seems the Lord swayed the tide so we would minister only to our area instead. M. Villarica Road is notoriously small and public buses ply this route. There are two cemeteries here side by side in one location, hence the frenzy of the crowd walking towards the two entrance, which I assumed would have been double if the weather was more amiable.

After visiting my father-in-law's grave, we scouted the area, moving twice to where there would be a steady drove of people entering in and walking out. I glanced at a tent managed by youths of an infamous local fraternity, they were doing their own outreach passing out free drinks, coffee and candy to the people. The lot next to them was empty, and I felt it was the perfect opportunity to be able to finally reach out and minister to this group as well as the people passing by.

I was mightily helped by the Lord to deliver the word for an hour, but I was mainly pleading with the group beside us, who noticeably looked towards our direction and listened. Midway through, some of them pulled up chairs away from their tent and sat close to us as they smoked. Tracts were passed, but more importantly Christ was preached. Hurtful truth was spoken, but so were healing promises. Judgement was heard, but so was salvation preached. Death was realized, but so was God's glory in calling people to His Christ emphasized.

All in all the day ended far more than I can ever hope for. I pleaded urgently with the people till I lost my voice. I was advised before to rely on my lapel speaker instead and not to strain my voice too much, but I could not help thinking to myself this may be the only good news one precious soul standing far away would ever hear. The name of Jesus Christ should ring loudly over all nations that are upon the whole earth, far and wide.

I thank the Lord for the dear saints who prayed for us when we asked them before heading out. Prayer is the invaluable tool that I am dependent on with this work. I am also thinking of getting a megaphone. Not intending that I may speak with ease, but that I may still lose my voice with double the number of people hearing the name of Christ.