First Street Meeting

The morning's program for the Children's Church concluded just as the rain began to fall. This downpour persisted until two in the afternoon, offering only a momentary lull for us to leave the premises. We had settled this course of action the previous week, confirming our resolve through prayer: our gatherings would henceforth be conducted in the public square, rather than sheltered within. 

En route to Santa Maria, we drove through a little rain. I must admit to some anxiety concerning the comfort of the company, but by a fortunate arrangement of events, all proved agreeable and bore the rain with good cheer. Upon arrival, we found only a few people seated idly under the small gazebo. My own spiritual preparation had been a week-long trial. I had spent every dawn in devotion, pleading for strength and struggling with the natural limitations of the physical self. Drowsiness, doubt, fear, timidity, and a general coldness of spirit—these were the infirmities that threatened to undermine the work. Yet, these very trials served to direct my attention wholly to Christ—and His wounds bleeding for sinners. 

I withdrew back to personally ask for divine leading, before blindly walking up to the corner where I usually stand. From that moment on, I became a mere instrument. It was not I who spoke, but the Spirit that delivered the necessary address.

Our decision to shift the location of our public services was neither a matter of haste nor the product of a sudden impulse. On the contrary, this course was confirmed through solemn prayer and encouraged by example. I may not see it now but I do expect censure from more formal brethren who were instructed from youth to restrict their gatherings within the four walls of a building structure. I expect, indeed, the ridicule of those who prioritize decency and adherence to order. These are the same persons who, echoing the sentiment once noted by Mr. Wesley, believe the saving of a soul to be almost a sin, if the work had not been done within the confines of a consecrated church building.

Our small assembly has now benefited from a period of five full years dedicated to schooling—a time spent diligently learning the tenets of Christ for their individual souls. The time for simple learning has concluded, and the hour of application is upon us. Necessity is now laid upon them to move beyond mere contemplation, to fulfil that second great commandment, and to earnestly live out the Great Commission. The charge is clear: they are to be doers of the Word, not mere listeners. Their task is to boldly walk the very path our Savior trod, and to cultivate within their own breasts a profound yearning for His great compassion toward those who still wander in sin.

In keeping with our chronological study of the Saviour's life, the text appointed for today fell upon the eleventh chapter of Luke. This portion provided an excellent, timely opportunity to thoroughly discuss a problem that is intensely familiar even to the modern individual: the blatant hypocrisy of the unconverted heart attempting to conceal itself behind a veneer of mere morality. I sought to clarify the exposition of this text until the message transitioned into a heartfelt and necessary plea—the charge to escape the wrath of the Lamb, which is unequivocally promised to descend upon the sons of disobedience, by swiftly running toward the saving arms of our beautiful Redeemer, Christ Jesus. Thus, a stark and unyielding contrast was established. The Law was preached, and Christ was offered. Darkness was set against Light. Death was contrasted with Life. We considered the utter hopelessness of a world that will one day end, taking with it every treasure it offers, alongside the glorious and enduring excellencies of an eternity found exclusively in Christ, who now sits upon the throne of power, possessing all authority, today and forever.

Finally, we affirmed the trustworthy assurance of salvation—the solemn covenant that God offers in Christ to every poor, lost, and genuinely repentant sinner.

The same persons with whom we commenced our public service remained until its end. They listened attentively throughout. Remarkably, one individual, initially apprehensive about receiving a Bible or a tract, accepted the materials midway through the exposition. Furthermore, they joined in as I read the sacred Word.

This day, I submit, would have ended as any ordinary Sunday had we merely observed our usual, private practice of sharing the Gospel among ourselves. But by this change in method, two critical objectives were achieved: the saints were forcefully reminded, and these strangers were made aware, of the fundamental truth of faith in Christ. Specifically: that Christ came to seek and to save that which was lost. That Christ gave His life for the ungodly. And that Christ is, in essence, for sinners, not for those who operate under the delusion of self-righteousness. It is clearly established that God’s forgiveness is extended to those who humbly ask for it, and is never intended for those who believe they stand in no need of such grace.

This week we asked for souls who would hear, this day God answered us. It is an encouragement for me to continue asking the LORD for this. 

The motive governing our decision to take the exposition of the Word into the public square is neither for the purpose of increasing our numbers nor to merely bring persons within the church building. Our singular objective is to bring Christ to the people themselves.

I am not unmindful that this assertion may draw scorn and be mistakenly interpreted as heretical, but I must state precisely what I do not imply. Christ is indisputably the Head of the Church, and the Church is His sacred body; it is for her life He shed His blood. However, to possess membership within any given local church does not automatically equate to a soul being spiritually and truly born again—a vital distinction too often blurred by today's standards. 

Far be it from me to compel souls to enter the church structure only to enroll them among the growing statistics of those who are moral, yet spiritually frozen corpses, when they ought to be directed to Christ alone to be made alive. The only authentic power the Church possesses resides in its witness. We have no faculty or authority to cause the spiritually dead to be born to life. Our role is strictly to act as an intermediary—to simply lower the sinner down from the roof, directly to Christ. Only the Holy Spirit of Christ can quicken the dead through the Gospel, and that Spirit is in no wise boxed in by the confines of man-made laws or institutions. The letter kills indeed, but it is the Spirit that gives life (2 Corinthians 3:6).