20 Pesos For One Soul

This boiled pork skin is a Filipino delicacy. It's called Chicharon. Sold by mostly elderly people on beaten bicycles for the better part of the scorching day, along with the infamous Balut, for 19 cents. If you would take time to talk with these people, you would learn of amazing stories of their children finishing college on the sheer sweat of the fathers who patiently sold these for years.

Tonight was no special night. It has been pouring steadily for almost a week already. After a late dinner on the street at my favorite Pares cart, the rain picked up as I was walking back to work, forcing me to seek shelter at a shed in front of a house. "Tatay", a Filipino term of endearment and respect for 'father', was there with his wares waiting out the rain as well. He obviously wasn't planning on being stalled here. But God had other things in mind for him. I immediately knew what I needed to do. The fear in me pulling me away as usual. But the bidding was just too forceful to ignore that I had to obey. I peeked at what he was selling, so I thought of buying to start a conversation. For me, this has always been a great way to get to talk with vendors, I buy from them, and ask if I can have a few minutes of their time in return, or with people who give away leaflets. I give them a tract in exchange for their leaflets, I make sure I read their leaflets in front of them, so as not to come across as what they're peddling is not important. They in turn read my tracts.

This cholesterol-laden food represents one soul. 38 cents for one conversation regarding eternity is a great deal. I kept praying as I was listening to him when it was his time to ask questions. This morning I had ask for brokenness from the Lord. I was miserable this morning, as I had missed my 4 AM devotions and woke up past 8 AM (I had fallen asleep on the sofa after working till 3 AM and my reading of Nahum past 4 AM). How gracious of the LORD for arranging things this night.

June is Pride month. Lately, I have been seeking a deeper brokenness for all the LGBTQ people celebrating sin and death this month. I wonder how many street preachers who are marching to the event ever wept for these people first? I have no wish to attend the event for the sake of bragging my accomplishment and say, 'Well, what a part we did for this year's march. We preached and there were a lot who heard.' More like a lot were annoyed. Did a lot hear about Christ's redemptive work on the cross? Or did they merely hear, 'Sinner! Sinner! Sinner!' It takes no effort for anyone with an opposing view of this event to attend and start pointing the finger, but to weep for them? These are people on their way to death. Everybody wants to preach, nobody wants to weep. Jesus wept over Jerusalem when he saw it before preaching against it. I sincerely believe we who are the salt and light of the world ought to be broken for the judgement of sinners as well as for the sufferings of the saints in this world. Don't send me, Oh LORD, without first breaking me. What meaneth we to preach to sinners whom we haven't wept and have lost nights of sleep for?

Micah 1:8
Therefore I will wail and howl, I will go stripped and naked: I will make a wailing like the dragons, and mourning as the owls. For her wound is incurable;

Jeremiah 9:1

Oh that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, 

that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people!