Lessons Through An Afternoon Encounter

I almost did not speak with them, my flesh apprehensive as always. I had no words to say, no care to show. Two days with little sleep and a ton of things to attend to will definitely dull the senses. I just want to physically rest with my mind agreeing just for once. 

Finding a place to park took me here after dropping off my wife and daughters at the hospital for a check up. St. Martin of Tours parish is located in Bocaue Town Proper. I had to pay a fee upon entry, and a small group of 12-year-olds ran up to my window, asking for change. I ignored them. I found a spot in the far corner of the lot hoping for some quiet but they followed me, hoping to get a few coins for it. "Come back later," I told them. 

The impression to talk to them came gently. But I was too tired in my body and mind. Try as I may to ignore the tug in my gut, I tried making up excuses not to. But like always, I surrendered. Waited. "Help me please. What do I say?" I pleaded as I watched them horsing around with each other beside my window. Eventually I got out to sit beside them. The parking lot was spacious, and there were many places they could have picked to play, but they chose the spot where I was - and started a conversation by asking me about my ink. That was my entry. 

I asked where they lived and about their families. Out of the six, only one lived with both dad and mom. The rest, either one parent left, one died, or both were gone. I used to sleep on the street when I was half their age so I can relate to their predicament. If the Lord would not intervene, they will become future thugs and add to the growing statistic of broken families. All the more reason for needing desperate help from the Spirit. My wife came from the nearby hospital to bring me turon (a local delicacy), and I told the children that I would give them the food, and all the money I had with me which is not much, if we can just talk. They happily agreed. 

I was lent wisdom to share Christ with them, and I was in awe at the simplicity of illustrations impressed upon me to communicate Christ's substitutionary work on the cross in the most basic way. At first some of them continued playing around, but the ones who were listening forced the rowdy ones to calm down and listen to me as well. I gave them all gospel tracts. In the end, all of them were gathered around me and reading the message out loud and all together. One of the more attentive ones remarked, "so we can only be saved by God!" "..through believing Christ died for you and rose again," I added cheerfully. 

I was ashamed to have thought little of these young ones. I forgot to remind myself of what I have  always told others, to "see people as souls destined for an eternity." Not as physical objects. I even hesitated giving them tracts, thinking they might not understand it. But I simply obeyed and left the outcome to God. It was a blessed rebuke to me to hear them read it. People normally just tuck it away after taking it from my hand. But these children actually read it from beginning to end. 

I actually do not expect them to retain everything, or anything at all, about what they read or our short encounter. But I do expect God to providentially send someone else in the future to once again bring these truths to their remembrance. May it please the Lord then to grant them His saving grace.