Grotto

Ah, beloved soul, I must defer the fuller account of our late labor until this mind-benumbing pain, which seized me upon returning home, hath somewhat abated. At present it so possesseth me that I can scarcely gather my thoughts, much less compose them sufficiently to write of the Lord's dealings with us this day. Yet what a blessed outreach it was! My heart is full when I think upon it, and I can only pray that the Father would be pleased to cause something spoken or done this afternoon to bear fruit unto eternity. And amidst this present suffering I find peculiar cause for thanksgiving. The pain might as easily have seized me whilst I was yet abroad; but the LORD in His kindness withheld it until the labor was finished and I had returned home. Oh, how differently I behold the pain when I consider this! He did not forbid it to come, but He suffered it to wait. The work was done first. For this I thank the LORD.

The gathering was indeed attended with no little spiritual peril, being the first time since the late plandemic that these multitudes had again assembled for their annual procession, bearing their dead woods and other objects of devotion with much outward show of religion. We greatly desired to bring every willing soul with us into the field; but the distance unto the Grotto was considerable, being near sixteen kilometers each way, and the journey itself no small labor. In former years I had seen the people come thither in droves. Some travelled from places so distant that their pilgrimage on foot approached fifty kilometers, enduring the heat, weariness, and pain of the road that they might at length arrive at this place which they accounted holy. This hath often grieved me. What pains will poor souls willingly endure when once persuaded that something may thereby be obtained from God! They will weary their bodies, travel many miles, and count their aching feet almost a sacrifice, hoping perhaps that heaven shall look with favor upon the hardship of their journey. And all the while Christ standeth before sinners freely offered in the Gospel. Oh, what a strange thing is the religion of the flesh! It would sooner walk fifty kilometers to obtain some imagined favor from God than come empty-handed unto Christ and receive mercy without price.

Yet when we came within half a mile of the place, we found the road shut by a barricade, the authorities having imposed a curfew upon further entrance. Those who still came hoping to pass were sharply turned away, and even the place appointed for parking vehicles had already been closed. We could therefore proceed no farther. There we remained beside the entrance, waiting for our dear daughter Mou to arrive. At first this appeared a considerable hindrance, having travelled so far only to be stopped when the place itself was almost before us. Yet my spirit was quiet. If the Lord had suffered us to come thus far and no farther, then here was our present station. Men had closed the road; but they had not put us beyond the providence of God. So we waited.

It rejoiced us much when our dear Mou at length arrived, accompanied by her father, whom I had formerly met during one of our proclamations in Santa Maria. He is yet, so far as I know, without Christ; nevertheless, he hath always shown himself exceedingly supportive of his daughter's labor. I have often remembered this man before the LORD, praying that He would be pleased to glorify His name in saving him. His intention that evening was only to leave Mou in our care and afterward return for her. Yet after departing awhile, he came back and remained with us throughout the ministry. This affected me greatly. For there he stood whilst his own daughter proclaimed Christ, and he heard every word that proceeded from her mouth. Amidst that great multitude many came and went, some hearing a little and others perhaps scarcely attending at all; but this man remained. If there was one soul there who heard the whole message that day, surely it was he. I had prayed for him before. Now the Lord had brought him within hearing and caused him to remain there whilst his own daughter declared the Gospel unto him. I knew not what the Lord was doing in his heart. Neither did I need to know. It was enough for me to behold him there and quietly commit him again unto God. The Father had brought him within sound of the water of life. Whether He would cause him to drink belongeth unto Him.

Baal deserves a tract too.

Even after the sun had gone down, the stream of souls continued to pass before us; and during the short time we remained there, near three hundred tracts were given away. Many indeed refused them and went on their way; yet many more received them. Some took one as they passed, others stopped to inquire, and a few who had already gone by returned again to ask concerning the message. At length I stood forth and testified openly against the false religion which had brought so many souls unto that place, declaring that salvation is found in Jesus the Christ alone. This caused many heads to turn. Some who had been walking stopped where they were, and others remained to listen. When I had finished my poor testimony, I heard behind me a single clap. I turned, somewhat surprised, and there upon a bench were about eight of the enforcers who had been stationed near the barricade. I had scarcely noticed them whilst speaking, yet they had apparently been listening all the while. This affected me much. I had thought myself chiefly speaking unto those passing before me, whilst behind me sat another little congregation of which I had taken scarcely any account. How little the preacher knoweth who is hearing him. I had only to open my mouth. The Lord had already placed the ears around me.

My heart is yet warm when I remember that night. Before we parted, the Lord gave me an opportunity which I had long desired—a quiet half-hour with Mou's father, without interruption or haste. I had often prayed for this man; and now, without any contrivance of mine, there we were together and free to speak. He told me how a worldly program had persuaded him to cease attending Mass. I told him plainly that to escape from one falsehood is not therefore to have found the truth. A man may forsake his former religion and yet remain as far from God as before. It availeth little to know where one must not remain, if the soul hath never come unto Christ.

I therefore spoke to him as plainly as I could. Without Christ he must perish, whether he continueth in the lie or hath learned to reject it. His great necessity was not merely deliverance from a false system, but reconciliation unto God. And here I found myself speaking of mine own case. I could not stand before him as though I had been a better man who had discovered a better religion. I had been a great sinner; but Christ is a great Savior. Whatever difference the Gospel had made in me was owing neither to wisdom nor goodness of mine, but unto the mercy of God in Christ. Neither was the evidence very far from him. He had only to look upon his own daughter. He himself could see what the Gospel had wrought in our dear Mou; and I told him something of that burden which she carrieth continually in her heart—that her father and her whole family might come to know God through Christ.

Thus our little discourse continued for near half an hour. I knew not what passed within him whilst I spoke, and I would not pretend to know. But the Lord had given me the opportunity for which I had prayed, and I had been permitted to speak Christ plainly unto him. Afterward we thanked one another. I embraced our dear Mou, and we parted. As we travelled home, my heart remained full. I had asked the Lord for this man's soul; that night He had given me his ear. What He shall now do with the Word belongeth unto Him.