14.8767, 121.0501, Norzagaray. Day Three.

Bitungol. The third location on my Norzagaray list. When first I surveyed this place, I confess I held but little hope for it; among all the places on my list, it seemed the least likely to respond. How wrong I was. I have proclaimed the Word in many a town, but the reception I found here is such as I have not seen in a very long while. Before me was a row of public tricycles, their drivers loitering about idly waiting for passengers. Yet, as I began to speak, they rose up perhaps, by a curious desire to see what manner of fool had come among them.

​As the Word went forth, a peculiar silence fell. At one point, I observed several of these men grow quite still, their minds staring blank far into space. So deep was this sudden wandering of thought that they were entirely unaware of the passengers already seated inside, waiting to depart. The earthly business of the road had, for a brief moment, lost its hold upon them.

The folk stepped out from their dwellings to see what the commotion might be, and, having seen, they remained to listen. It was a strange sight to them, no doubt—and a message stranger still. For it did not merely offer them a new religion or a different church, but spoke directly to them as men and women, as a people, and as precious, living souls, of a Savior who calls sinners to come to Him, for He came to save them from their sins. No sooner had I begun my address than a great throng of children came forward, gathering around me. It is a truth I have many times seen that the young are the first to welcome the message with open hearts. Alas, as the years pass, we too often grow hard of heart and doubtful in our ways; yet I rejoiced to tell those dear children that our Lord Himself declared the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as they.

Where I had thought to receive ridicule from them, I found instead a most pleasant surprise. They came not to mock, but to ask many simple and earnest questions concerning the Savior. Truly, I was never more glad than to find myself in their company. ​I took my seat among the little ones for a time after my pleading, speaking to them of the reality of the Savior’s great love. I put them in mind of the many mercies they enjoy each day, which perhaps they had quite overlooked in their youthful innocence. I spoke of the parents who watch over them, the roofs that shelter their heads, and the daily bread and raiment provided for their comfort. As I spoke, they were smiling and nodding. It was plain to see they understood —that every good thing is a gift from the hand of the Lord. Though I know full well that the cares of this world may one day cloud their sight, I exhorted them nonetheless: "Always keep the Lord Jesus in your thoughts, and always offer Him your thanks."

As the children and I said our goodbyes, a certain man drew near to me. His name is Vicente, and he works as a security guard at the school in front of me. I saw him sitting inside the grounds facing my direction throughout my pleading with the people. He lifted his voice to bless the Lord, offering me such words of thanks and courage as to stay my heart from any thought of doubting. I knew at once that this was by the Hand of God; surely, He had sent a fellow saint to lift up the spirit of a weary servant. Every word this brother spoke concerning the Gospel, and the dead who know not God, spoke with the sweetness of true faith.

Before we parted, he asked to offer a prayer of thanksgiving on my behalf. Though I had arrived fearing I might leave this place with an empty hand, my Heavenly Father instead granted me a fulness of bread. I was put in mind of my blessed Lord and Saviour, realizing anew that my true sustenance is found only in doing the will of Him who sent me.