Wish Granted

A providential disruption on my day's schedule forced me to adjust what I had previously planned, and opened the way for me to finally make the 86km trip to San Miguel and back, alone. This place has been on my map for so long, and it seemed to be a far-fetched wish, but the long and beautiful roads of the Pan-Philippine Highway pulled me along and the farther I went the more I knew I needed to go. There were instances when I wanted to stop beside the road simply to admire the vast scenery, but my mind was more focused on where I needed to be. I have been to far locations where there weren't much people around, but I leaned on Father to make this one trip worth it for His name. 

San Miguel Public Market is a very busy spot even on timid days. The street behind it was thriving even when you can tell it wasn't peak hours. I parked in front, beside the small group of baranggay police huddled by a landmark on the corner, and nervously walked around for a bit handing out tracts, making my way around the block. I secretly wished to myself that I do not have to reach my spot, as I drew closer to it. 

The last group to receieve my tracts were the baranggay police, and it gave me a good opportunity to ask for their permission to share the gospel by the corner of the landmark, which they so graciously accomodated me, going as far as asking for a minute from me so they could turn down the music they were playing from the quarters. What special consideration has Father granted me. 

 

I was given a captive audience by my LORD, and people literally stood in front of me, stopped by the side of the road, came close from where they were, listened from their terraces, and sat close to me. Two young teen souls stood beside me. It seems they weren't accustomed to the sight and sound of a fool pleading for their souls. 

I have had few memorable experiences of having a captive audience, and this is one of them. Often people will just pass me by as if I didn't exist, but here, Father had reserved ears for Himself. 

It seemed to be just another pleading on the outside for me, but the invisible conflict behind it all was strongly evident. Every and all preaching is God's work, not the preacher's. The breath I use is His. The words I use are His. Many times have I examined myself and my motives as to why am I doing this, and if I was indeed called to do so. Father humbles me every time He reminds me that it was He who took me at a time I had no guidance to rely on, and no companions to accompany me. That it was He who chose me for this work because I would not have chosen this for my own. He provided me with words to use uniquely for my own. And what powerful words they are. Painful. Convicting.

The long ride gave me quietness in my soul, and plenty of time to think. I miss riding highways like these, and the then infamous bullet rides come back to mind. I cringe at the countless times I flirted with death, going full throttle on EDSA at midnight, leaning on buses at bizarre speeds, putting on my vest at 140kmh, zipping past red lights, chased by police, going thru one way roads to evade the law. It was thrilling, yes. I could have died a long time ago. God has such patience with my ignorance. And though I will never do such again, the rush is still there. 

My wife repeatedly asked for me not to go far today being that I was alone. But the quiet time did me much good. I thoroughly enjoyed being in awe at the golden sunset casting hues on the great rice fields along the way. My plan to close the map of Bulacan's main cities is now almost complete. There will be a few (or more) locations to proclaim in here and there, but I will offer much thanks to the LORD now that San Miguel is finally served. A great and fitting gift to end the day, on the eve our 27th anniversary.