Street Meeting Fourteenth

Luke 17:20-30

Even as the men of our Lord's day were taught to expect a militant Messiah who would but break their earthly oppression, so the people of this present age are fed a God who is distant—who dwells only in the lifeless product of weekly mass, repeating routines, conferences and non-experiential teachings. He is made a mere subject of knowledge, confined to the intellect of man rather than made manifest in the reality of power.

Our blessed Lord appeared in His first advent not as a king of might and splendor, but as a man of sorrows, a social reject and an outcast well associated with grief. He must first suffer many things and eventually die for sin. So contrary was this to the vain expectations of men. He came unto His own, but because He clothed Himself in humility rather than the expectations of earthly grandeur, His own people received Him not. So too do the people—most especially my own beloved but poor and superstitious folk—behold God as an unapproachable entity. In their blindness, they deem Him in need of some earthly representation, fashioned of stone or wood, that He might at last become tangible and real to their sight.

We cry out, "Lo, God is here!" amidst this long parade of wood and stone; or, "He is there!" lying within the cathedral, carved in the likeness of a man, whose feet must be kissed and adored. But He is neither there nor here. The kingdom of God does not come through the agent of sight. He comes instead in power through the declaration of the Gospel, as the Word of God in the mouths of His prophets, who cry aloud against the sins of the people and extend the hand of reconciliation through the finished work of Christ upon the Cross. It is here. Right now. Before their very eyes. In the form of a fool proclaiming the good news of salvation.

Of these external observances and rituals, my people are by no means ignorant; indeed, they are intimately well-accustomed to them. We have been raised religiously upon the very road that leads to death. We miss the light entirely, like living but blind men. We hear many things concerning Christ, yet we cannot understand; for, being separated from the life-giving God, we remain spiritually dead. 

The severest of God’s judgments cometh not in the quaking of the earth or the overflowing of the floods; it is when He allows us to live according to the lusts of our own hearts, and live the way we please, apart from His grace. It is to be left to ourselves—to die without Him unprepared—and at the last to meet Him in the world to come, not as a blessed Savior, but as a terrifying Judge.

He shall not appear timidly by slow degrees, but even as the lightning flashes across the heavens, from the one side unto the other. As a thief in the night, His coming shall be sudden. He shall descend in swift judgment, finding out both the hard-hearted rebel and the slothful servant.

Oh, my poor people, consumed each day with the cares of this life—thinking only of what they shall eat or what they shall drink—dwell in total oblivion of that terrifying day when Christ shall return as He hath promised. In His first coming, He appeared in lowliness to die for sin and for sinners; but in His second coming, He shall descend in awful majesty to judge both sin and the sinner.

When my mother-in-law from overseas announced her visit for the opening month of the year, we set to our preparations months in advance. As months faded into weeks, and weeks into hours, our diligence grew. How much more urgent, then, is the promised return of our Lord, or the sudden summons to stand before His judgment seat?

Perhaps we are timid only because we have lost sight of His promised appearing. We have forgotten to believe it; otherwise, we would treasure every hour, watching for Him by laboring for lost souls. But what of the flock? Were we not commanded to feed the sheep? Indeed! Yet we have fed them with food that made no soldiers of them. The sheep are to be fed that they might go forth as the very image-bearer of Christ, seeking the lost even in the midst of wolves. They are not to remain as babes, but grow to maturity as valiant bearers of the armor of the cross, witnessing against the world with the Gospel of Christ.

Scripture hath recorded: the flood came and destroyed them all. Again it is written: fire and brimstone rained from heaven and destroyed them all. Here are two awful visitations of judgment, set side by side to show the certainty of God’s hand. Such is the heavy price for those who neglect the Gospel call and set at naught the Word of the Most High.

This week, a number of us in our gathering were found sick. On that morning, my own blood pressure stood at 160/92—a state the physicians term "the silent killer." But I say there is no such thing as a silent killer. There is only God, and He alone holds the keys of life and death. Though my head throbbed with a slight fever and every cough brought a sharp pang to my breast, I committed my soul unto the Lord. I was gently advised to simply read, keeping my voice low and not to strain myself; yet I was endued with power to address the afternoon crowd with a heavy burden for their souls.

Prior to the commencement, I declared unto them, "Friends, should I suddenly fall before your eyes, I pray you have me excused; it is not that the hand of God hath struck me in judgment, but simply that this body is weak and I am currently sick."

The afternoon was strangely hushed, unlike the weeks past when I was forced to contend with the clamor of the playground and the nearby stalls. It so chanced that a procession of religious icons was set to pass. Our pleading was brought to a close just as the parade commenced, and the multitude rushed away to join the festivities.

The Word was received by those for whom it was intended, and we can do no more. Thus we conclude our fourteenth street meeting. 

The Lord is good.