Lessons Through An Afternoon Encounter

I confess that I nearly did not address them at all, for my flesh was apprehensive, as it so often is, and my mind was utterly void of anything resembling a ready compliment or a hint of genuine charity. Two full days had passed without the proper benefit of rest, and burdened as I was by a myriad of urgent affairs, my faculties were naturally quite dulled. Indeed, my only earnest desire was that my physical frame might, for one rare instance, be granted sleep, and that my troubled thoughts might finally consent to the same peace.

The simple necessity of securing a place to pass time—a brief interval of private relief—led me to this spot, immediately after having conveyed my beloved wife and daughters to the hospital for their consultation. This sacred site, the environs of the Parish of St. Martin of Tours, sits within the bustling Bocaue Town Proper.

Upon my entrance, and after settling the required toll, I was immediately beset by a small, importunate company of boys, perhaps twelve years in age, who pressed close to my window, pleading for some change. I tried to ignore their appeals, seeking a quiet corner of the yard in a vain hope for momentary solitude. Alas, they pursued me even to this remote spot, still holding out their hands for the promised pence. "Later," was the curt dismissal I offered them. I fear my exhausted state did little justice to the ideals of compassion one ought to address children.

The impression to engage them in conversation came upon me with a gentle, persistent manner. Yet, my physical frame and my intellect were utterly exhausted, rendering my soul unwilling. I sought, with great diligence, to dismiss this tug of conscience, and found myself composing various pretexts by which I might avoid the encounter altogether. But, as is the immutable law of the spirit, I presently surrendered. I waited a brief moment longer and pleaded, "Assist me, Lord! What words may I offer?" even as I watched the small troop of lads horsing about beside my closed window.

At length, I exited the vehicle and took my seat beside them. Though the parking enclosure was vast and offered a multitude of spaces for their diversions, they had, by an apparent design of Providence, chosen the precise spot where I was stationed. It was they who then initiated the conversation, turning their attention from their play to query me regarding the ink upon my person. Thus was the entry granted for the greater purpose.

I proceeded to enquire as to their dwelling places and the composition of their respective families. The revelations were, regrettably, typical of the pervasive sorrow of the age. Out of the six children present, only a single soul was blessed with the presence of both father and mother in the home. The remainder were afflicted by the familiar tragedies: a parent departed, another lost to the grave, or, in the most desolate cases, both entirely absent. My heart was stirred with a profound, painful recognition, for I myself had known the cold comfort of the pavement at barely half their years, and could therefore well comprehend their predicament. Should the Lord not, in His infinite mercy, intervene, these unguided children are sadly destined to become the thugs and vagrants of the future, thus adding to the appalling statistics of our broken society. This necessity for their spiritual preservation became, for me, all the more pressing; it demanded desperate help from the Holy Spirit.

It was at this critical juncture that my dear wife arrived from the nearby hospital, bringing me a piece of turon—a sweet local delicacy. I made a solemn offer to the children: I would give them the food, and every coin I had (which, I confess, was but a meagre sum), provided only that they would remain with me for serious conversation. With a spontaneous joy that shamed my earlier reluctance, they readily agreed to the bargain.

In that moment of necessity, the Lord, in His boundless mercy, lent me the wisdom required to speak of Christ unto their young hearts. I was left in profound awe at the utter simplicity of the illustrations impressed upon my spirit, which enabled me to convey the substitutionary work of Christ upon the Cross in the most basic, accessible manner. At the start of my instruction, certain of the boys continued horsing with each other. Yet, I observed with admiration how those amongst them whose souls were being touched by the message took it upon themselves to compel their more rowdy companions to quiet down, insisting that they, too, pay attention to my words.

I furnished each boy with a Gospel tract, a small seed of the Word. It was a sight to melt the hardest heart, for in the conclusion of the matter, they were all gathered about me, solemnly reading the blessed message aloud and in unison. One of the most attentive lads then spoke a profound truth: "So we can only be saved by God!" I responded with an earnest cheerfulness, adding the final, essential clause: "...through believing Christ died for you and rose again!" Thus did the Lord redeem my weariness and use my humble offering for the eternal benefit of these poor, neglected children.

I departed from that spot feeling a profound shame that I had permitted myself to think so little of these young souls. I had neglected to apply the very truth I have so often urged upon others: to "see people as souls destined for an eternity," and not merely as physical objects to be avoided or dismissed. My uncharitable hesitation extended even to the small matter of giving them the tracts, for I mistakenly presumed their young minds might not fully comprehend the message. But, thankfully, I was granted the grace to simply obey, and leave the ultimate outcome to the providence of God.

It proved a blessed rebuke to my own spiritual pride to hear them read the message aloud. Most individuals who accept the tract from my hand merely tuck it away into their pockets. Yet, these particular children, neglected and weary as they were, did actually read the message from its beginning to its final word. 

I hold no expectation, in truth, that these young minds shall retain every word, nor indeed any portion, of what was read or discussed in our brief encounter. The hearts of men, even the young, are too quickly drawn to earthly novelties. My true expectation lies not in the immediate fruit, but entirely in the Sovereignty of God. I trust that it shall please Him to providentially send another messenger in the future, one whose voice shall once again bring these great truths to their remembrance. The seed is sown; the planting is done.

May it please the Lord God Almighty, when that subsequent occasion arrives, to then finally grant them His saving grace. For only His hand can bring the increase, and to Him alone belongs the glory of the harvest.