Street Meeting Eleventh

It was just some months ago that this very ground was nothing but a dusty parking area—a place where people simply loitered. Yet, by a most gracious hand, the LORD was pleased to transform this barren space into a garden. Little did the municipality know that when they initiated their beautification project they were but preparing a venue for the proclamation of the Gospel. The Lord has provided this pleasant refuge so that the common folk might be drawn here, and find themselves sitting under the reading of the Scriptures before they are even aware of their soul's great need. Hundreds of precious souls hath heard the glad tidings of Christ’s redeeming love here—souls that surely would have remained unreached had we, like so many formal assemblies, kept this heavenly treasure hid within our own walls. 

Our arrival at the public grounds found the crowd to be but a meager handful. Disappointment crept over me, and I was tempted to believe that the message this day would fall upon just a small number of listeners. The spirit of doubt and timidity, took hold of my soul yet again. I haven't even begun and already I found myself faltering at the very start of my duty. I sat and lingered long, lifting a petition to the Master: "Lord, where would you have your servant stand? The people are so few in number." Yet, in that very moment, the Spirit rebuked me, reminding me that even a single soul is of infinite worth in the scales of eternity. 

Should the size of the crowd truly matter, when the message I am bidden to speak is so great?

I am to simply cast the net. God will bring the fish.

 

Since first we gathered at the park, the sacred oracles have unfolded in a manner most singularly suited to the awakening of slumbering consciences. As we have journeyed through the Holy Word, we have heard the solemn woes pronounced upon the hypocrite, and have been warned to shun the leaven of those who hold the form of godliness but deny its power. There was the message about confessing Christ before all men, and the folly of the rich merchant who hoarded earthly dross while his soul stood on the edge of eternity. We have been bid to cast away our worldly anxieties and to remember that our Lord brings not a hollow peace, but a sword that divides with the truth. We have looked upon the barren fig tree with fear, marveled at the spreading mustard seed, and sought with trembling to enter by the narrow door. We have heard the gracious invitation to the great banquet, counted the heavy cost of following the Lamb, and for what use is salt if its savor be lost.

And now, we arrive at the very heart of Christ for sinners. We come to that sweet illustration of the Shepherd who leaves the ninety-and-nine to seek the wanderer, and the diligent woman who lights a candle and sweeps the house until her lost silver coin is found. (Luke 15:1–10)

When the self-righteous Pharisees did murmur with jealous hearts against "this man"—for so great was their scorn they would not even breathe His Name—unknowingly their very reproach was a most glorious and heavenly truth. That the very Treasure of heaven, sent from the Father’s own bosom to gather His wandering sheep, indeed receives sinners and welcomes them to His side. We see how our God turns the wrath of man to His own praise. In their mocking, they stumbled upon the sweetest truth ever heard by mortal ears. 

They said He "receiveth sinners." Let the word echo in our soul: He receives sinners!

He does not wait for the soul to be cleansed and garmented in its own goodness before He beckons it near. He comes to the poor, the halt, and the wandering, with a heart overflowing with tender mercy—those who have nothing to offer but their own brokenness. Let no one who carries a heavy burden shrink away. He came to gather His people to Himself, and He shall not turn away a single soul that seeks His face. He receives sinners then, and, blessed be His Name, He receives them still.

How marvelous it is that our Lord, in His infinite kindness, never answers with a curt 'yea' or 'nay,' only to leave us to wrestle blindly with the trials that follow. No, He does not abandon us to our own feeble understanding wrestling with assumptions; instead, He ever provides a rich and clear portion of food for the weary soul.

In this sacred chapter, He provides divine insight in the form of three parables—three heavenly mirrors of His grace. Two of these He directs to that poor, weary crowd; those whom the proud religious masters looked upon with such disdain, yet who felt themselves drawn as by a cord of wooing love (Hosea 11:4) to the Savior’s side. But the third parable is a sharp, searching word for those bitter Pharisees. They stood by with darkened brows, filled with indignation to see "this man"—this supposed Messiah—mingling so freely with the very outcasts of the earth. The Pharisees called them filthy, but Christ spoke to them as though they were lost jewels. What a Savior we have in the Christ of God, who in His feeding the hungry souls, rebukes also the proud.

Can we indeed sit idly by, drinking from the Fountain of Life, while our thirsty neighbor perishes for want of even a drop of cold water?

If the Lord stooped so low—if He, the King of Glory, walked the dusty paths of this world to seek the jewel in the mire—can we do any less? Let us not be as the Pharisees, holding only the stagnant waters of self-righteousness. Rather, let us be as humble vessels, poured out in the same heart as our Lord, carrying the Living Water to those parched and weary souls who even now are dying of a spiritual thirst. Shall we not take up this "cord of wooing love" and cast it out to the sinking? For there is no joy in Heaven or earth so sweet as when a thirsty soul finds the Wellspring that never runs dry.

How the soul is truly stirred to behold these two parables! They do indeed lay bare the very heart of the Father for poor, wandering sinners, and reveal the wondrous lengths to which our Blessed Lord didst go. Pause, I beg of you, dear reader, and consider the mystery of such great condescension. 

If a friend in intimate relation should leave his comfortable place, cross the stormy ocean, trek over weary mountains, scale the jagged cliffs, swim through rushing rivers, and brave the terrors of a dark forest, just to sit beside you on your sick bed—would your heart not break with gratitude? How much more, then, the very Son of God! See Him leaving the unclouded glory of His heavenly throne and laying aside His royal crown, all to begin a zealous pursuit of the one lost sheep in this arid wilderness of sin. He did not merely look down with pity; He came down to find you.

For thus saith the Lord GOD; Behold, I, even I, will both search my sheep, and seek them out. As a shepherd seeketh out his flock in the day that he is among his sheep that are scattered; so will I seek out my sheep, and will deliver them out of all places where they have been scattered in the cloudy and dark day.

Ezekiel 34:11,12

And mark the diligence of the woman in her cottage. There is such great intrinsic value in that single piece of silver that she cannot rest. She will light her candle, sparing no effort and fearing no shadow; she will sweep every corner and search out the darkest, most forgotten portions of her house, all to find that one precious coin. Just so, the Holy Spirit lights the candle of the Word and searches the secret chambers of the human heart. To the world, the coin is but a trifle, and the sheep but one of many—but to the Owner, they are of a value beyond all earthly price.

In those days, a maiden would wear upon her brow a headband of ten silver coins, —a sacred emblem of her marriage bond, as dear to her heart as the gold ring upon a finger is to us today. To lose but one of these was no small thing; it was a calamity, a reproach of her very bridal dignity. It is as though a bride were to lose her wedding ring on the very day of her nuptials.

Credit to the owner

Does this woman, finding one silver piece missing from her brow, sit in idle hope that she still has nine other? Certainly not! She is seized with great distress. She strikes a light, for the house is dim, and she begins an all-out search-and-rescue mission. She wields the broom with unwearied hand; she peers into the dusty corners and turns the very furniture upside down, her heart never resting until she catches the glint of the silver in the lamplight. How precious is the sinner in the sight of God! No effort is too great, no corner too dark, and no search too long to reclaim that which belongs to the Heavenly Bridegroom. There is an earnestness and a holy persistence that will not cease until the lost jewel is found and restored.

How truly these three parables unmask the various conditions of the human heart. They are like three mirrors, each reflecting a different path by which a soul wanders into the gloom.

We behold the wandering sinner in the lost sheep. Like that foolish creature, we are prone to go "each to his own way," (Isaiah 53:6) turning our backs upon the good Shepherd. We run headlong toward nowhere, utterly oblivious of our direction, straying further into the briars of this world with every step.

We are shown the ignorant sinner in the lost coin. This soul is like the silver piece that lies in the dust—lost, yet unaware of its own condition. It feels no hunger, it knows no fear; it simply lies in the dark, unconscious that the lamp is being lit and the house is being searched. In both these cases, the lost ones have no inkling that the good Shepherd is even now seeking them out.

But the third is the most miserable of all: the willing sinner. This is the soul that has deliberately turned from the Father's house to waste its substance in riotous living. It is only when he finds himself competing with the swine for the husks of this world—that he finally comes to his senses. He learns that the world’s bread is but ashes, and its pleasures are but food for the godless, meat not meant for the children of the King.

For the Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost.

Luke 19:10

Truly, man is a soul so blinded by his own wandering that he knows not he is lost, until at last, he looks up to see the face of the Shepherd who has found him.

Many an irreverent ignorant will claim that man hath the ability and capacity to seek out God on his own. Such a notion is utterly foreign to the Holy Scriptures; it is but a portion of that earthly rubbish upon which the proud do foolishly feed. It is not the sheep who seeks the Shepherd. It is the Shepherd who seeks after the sheep.

This ‘finding’ of the lost soul is made manifest in the holy sight of a sinner repenting. It is that sacred moment when, by the power of the Spirit, the heart of stone is finally turned into a heart of flesh, and the scales fall from the blinded eyes. Only then is the soul truly ‘found’—not when it fancies it hath made its own way home by its own strength, but when it at last realizes the wondrous cost of its redemption.

Repentance is but the soul’s ‘Amen’ to the Shepherd’s ‘I have found thee!’

When the soul looks up from the mire and beholds the Shepherd’s feet, torn and bloodied by the jagged rocks of the wilderness; when it sees that the King of Glory left His celestial throne and braved the storms of this world just to seek him out—then, and only then, is the work complete. 

Behold the heart of the Son of Man as He sets His face toward Jerusalem! Many look upon His words—‘how am I kept back till it is complete!’ (Luke 12:50)—and see only a man afraid of the pain he is about to endure. But they have never known such zeal so divine. He is not merely looking to get the agony over with; He is excited in finding the sinner. Like a bridegroom waiting for the dawn, or a hero stressed until the rescue is begun, He cannot wait to open the way for sinners to come into the presence of God. The cross was not a hurdle He was forced to jump; it was the door He was eager to unlock. He was ‘straitened’—pressed in spirit—because His love could not be satisfied until the price was paid and the path to the Father’s presence was thrown wide open for every lost soul. 

Let us sweep away the false notion of a distant, passive God. He does not merely look down from the throne of heaven to pity the lost, waiting with folded arms for the wanderer to find his own way home. He does not sit in expectation; He moves in execution. He does not forget the coin, comforting Himself with the thought that eventually, it might turn up on its own. No! He leaves His glory in heaven with His face set like flint, in a focused pursuit of that which is His. The Incarnation was not a visit; it was a search-and-rescue mission. He braved the cross not because we called for Him, but because He could not rest until we were found.

Many an irreverent ignorant will claim that man hath the ability and capacity to seek out God on his own. Such a notion is utterly foreign to the Holy Scriptures; it is but a portion of that earthly rubbish upon which the proud do foolishly feed. They often speak of the sinner finding the Savior, but in truth, it is the Savior who finds the sinner.

This ‘finding’ of the lost soul is made manifest in the holy sight of a sinner repenting. It is that sacred moment when, by the power of the Spirit, the heart of stone is finally turned into a heart of flesh, and the scales fall from the blinded eyes. Only then is the soul truly ‘found’—not when it fancies it hath made its own way home by its own strength, but when it at last realizes the wondrous cost of its redemption. Witness then, what happens when the lost is finally found! Scripture tells us there is joy in heaven. ‘What a nice thought,’ you may casually say—but I ask you, is this a small thing? Consider it well: Should a foreigner defect from his land to become naturalized in our own country, can we imagine the whole of the Philippines erupting in celebration, every citizen in every province rejoicing that one man has become a national? Hardly. Such a thing is unknown to the kingdoms of men.

But then, we are offered a peek into the invisible! See the whole of the heavens erupting in joyous jubilation! And mark the source of the song: it is not merely that the angels are celebrating amongst themselves—they are celebrating because God Himself is rejoicing! And all this for one—just one—solitary sinner. How much more, then, is this great truth magnified when we behold the final triumph of Christ in redeeming His beloved Church? If one soul sets the heavens aflame with song, what will it be when the Spirit’s power is fully displayed in the keeping of that Great Multitude, whom no man can number, from every nation and tribe, standing before the Lamb? (Revelation 7:9). 

This heavenly joy is not the result of a person merely joining a local church, nor of a man resolving to do ‘good works’ to patch up a tattered life. No. It is the joy of one sinner repenting. It is the joy of a funeral turning into a festival. we must realize that God's power is nowhere more manifest—not in the creation of the stars, nor in the calming of the seas—than in the finding of the lost. 

Every time a soul is ‘found,’ a miracle as great as that of Lazarus being called from the tomb is performed in the secret places of the heart. The deaf ear is unstopped to hear the Shepherd’s voice, and the cold, dead spirit is warmed by the breath of the Living God. It is when the dead is raised to life.

Man, in his pride, may strive to improve himself; he may scrub the outside of the cup or gild the bars of his own cage. But let us be clear: man can only improve the self, but only God can effect resurrection!

Can the dust of the ground gather itself into a living soul? Can a lifeless body, cold and silent, command its own heart to beat? Never. It was God who first formed man from the dust, and it is God alone who can stoop over the spiritually dead and breathe into them the breath of life. This is the glory of the three parables. The sheep is helpless, the coin is inanimate, and the son was ‘dead’ until the Father’s grace restored him. We do not need a better version of our old selves; we need to be made new creatures by the same Power that spoke the worlds into being.

We arrive at the climax of this divine story. God's joy over one sinner who repents is so great, so vast, and so overwhelming that the whole of heaven can hardly contain it. It is a joy that bursts the banks of the celestial city and floods the heavens.

Every inch of that immeasurable expanse is affected by it; from the highest archangel to the lowliest of the redeemed, the atmosphere of eternity is charged with the delight of the Father over His found treasure. If the stars sang together at the birth of creation, how much unimaginable is the anthem when a soul is born again? It is a joy that belongs to God Himself—a joy so deep that it vibrates through every corner of His immeasurable domain.

We mark here, that this heavenly joy is twice repeated for unmistakable emphasis (Luke 15:7, 15:10). It is the "Verily, Verily," and the "Truly, Truly," of the parables. It is as if the Holy Spirit, knowing the fearful nature of a guilty conscience, would leave no room for even a shadow of a doubt. God indeed welcomes sinners into His presence through the redemptive work of Christ.

Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and he who has no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.

Isaiah 55:1

There is not one reason—not in the depths of hell nor in the records of a wasted life—that the sinner should fear to approach God by reason of his sin and unworthiness. Does the sheep fear the Shepherd who has climbed the mountain to find it? Does the coin shrink from the hand that cleanses it? No. Christ came to seek the lost sinner and to save him, for the very purpose that he may know God, and Jesus Christ, whom He hath sent (John 17:3). This is not merely an escape from judgment; it is an entrance into an intimate, eternal fellowship that begins the moment the Savior carries the found home on His shoulders.

***

I was surprised to find, upon stepping down, that a large company had assembled around where I stood. I had been so consumed by the weight of my message that I had not even observed the grounds beginning to fill; faces blurred, yet there they were—arrested, silent, and listening to the Word. The hour had flown by as though time itself had paused for me. I have delivered my soul of its burden; I have sown the seed in the furrow, and for now, it suffices me to step down and retire from the field. Though the day may seem to end in quiet, I am persuaded that the Great Day of Account shall reveal a far different story. I leave the results to Him who alone can give the increase; I have done the lesser work of speaking, but God—and God alone—will do the greater work of saving.

May the LORD bless the people who have been given ears to hear. The message of our eleventh street meeting is thus concluded. Glory and honor to the Father, and our Lord and Savior, Christ Jesus.