Thoughts After Ten Years in the Public Square ~ Part 2

Over the years, many have asked to join me in street preaching. They ask thinking it as an exercise of piety—an experience to be tasted rather than a life to be surrendered. I have stood beside many who began with zeal only to fall away, and I have watched others slip back into a comfortable, everyday life. A full decade has passed, and yet, by His mercy, the fire in me has not dimmed. It does not merely smolder; it burns hotter with every passing mile. While others have traded their crosses for comfort, the Master has kept the flame alive in this servant's heart. It is a mystery of grace that after ten years of pleading with the crowds, the burden for the lost is heavier now than when the journey first began.

It is a testimony to the peculiar grace of the Lord that the very videos of our labor in the streets have been used as a net to draw in inquiring souls. The church that now gathers did not come from other churches. It was birthed upon the hard pavement of the public square, through the raw and steady preaching of the Cross.

Modern religion has a restless hunger to fill pews. Invitations are scattered—not to find the lost, but to move the "already-convinced" from one fold to another until the seats are full. This allows a denomination to be presented as "successful," but it is a hollow victory. We see the constant posting of curated group pictures, all designed to paint a portrait of prosperity for men to admire. It is a despicable trend: chasing the shadow of success rather than the substance of the new creation. We celebrate filling a building while the heavens wait for the repentance of a single soul. To measure the Kingdom by a Sunday morning census is a grave mistake. It is mistaking the sound of a crowd with the life-giving breath of the Spirit.

Our labor in the crossroads of Bulacan was never about filling a room. It has always been about two things: the witness of Christ against the world and the birth of the new creature. A church filled with people taken from other congregations is merely a "museum of movement." But a church born on the hard pavement of the public square is a living proof of the Cross. One soul brought from death to life carries more weight than ten thousand who only come to be seen. We refuse to "decorate" our gathering with sheep from other folds just to look successful. Instead, we have watched the Lord call His own out of darkness. In this work, ministry is not the foundation; it is the fruit. It does not come before the Master; it follows Him. We do not gather for the sake of a Christian work; we gather because we have been apprehended by Christ. To know Him as Lord is the beginning and the end of our errand. Everything else is simply the overflow of a heart that has found its rest in Him.

There is no more misguided start to this spiritual task than asking, 'How can I do street preaching?' This question shows a basic ignorance of the reality of the work. It is the talk of someone looking at a map who has never felt the weight of the load. To ask for a 'method' before receiving a 'mandate' is to rely on a brief impulse while having nothing of substance to finish the journey. You cannot learn a technique for something that requires a life.

This inquiry is oblivious of the troubles that follow such a task: the reproach of the world, the weariness of the soul, and the long seasons where you must continue without any human affirmation. It is like planning a building without a foundation. Those who ask "how" are often looking for a pious experience to add to their collection, rather than a cross to which they must be nailed. They have not counted the cost. They do not ask if they have the strength for the journey, only if the start looks pleasant. But the street is not a stage for a performer; it is a battlefield for the broken. To enter it without being sent by God is to invite a collapse that dishonors Christ. God does not discard what He starts. What God begins, He is faithful to complete. If He has authored your path, He will provide the breath to reach its conclusion. Therefore, you must not abandon the work He has placed in your hands; you are called to see through to the end what you have started under His authority.

To lift up the name of Christ before men is to prepare the altar where you will be sacrificed. Every word you speak and every plea to the indifferent binds your soul to the will of God. We do not go into the street to be seen; we go to be offered up  so that the Lamb who was slain might receive the reward for His suffering. This work demands your life. It consumes the self-preservation and the comfort we so desperately cling to. In this labor, your life does not matter. The only thing that matters is that Christ’s name is made known.

We make a grave mistake when we reduce the calling of the Gospel to a matter of training or knowing what to say. These are merely tools, and a man can possess every tool while his heart remains cold and empty, without a burden. The only question that carries the weight of eternity is not "do I know how?" but "do I love Christ?" Human pity for the lost is a shallow well; it dries up quickly under the heat of rejection. The true messenger is never a volunteer of his own ambition. He is motivated by the heart of Christ. His primary devotion is not to a "method," but to the Person of the Savior. 

He loves Christ, and because he knows Christ's love for those the Father has given Him, he seeks them out. He does not seek them to fill a census, but for the sake of the Shepherd who loves them. It was love that moved God to offer His beloved Son to die for sinners. That same love motivates the messenger to continue seeking those for whom the Son died.

We must see our circle of influence for what it truly is: a field where the Shepherd seeks His sheep through the messenger He sends. The messenger is only the voice; the Shepherd is the one who calls. The messenger is only the vessel; the Shepherd is the guide.

It is Love for Christ that creates this urgency—a holy compulsion that drives the servant forward despite weariness or the indifference of the crowd. To "go" is to be carried by the Shepherd’s own pursuit of His people. This is the only motivation that lasts: not a love for the "work," but a love for the Christ who is seeking His own.

We do not look at the people with our own eyes, but through the heart of the Savior. To preach Christ is to be captured by His affection and possessed by the glory of His ransom. The messenger may not know how to begin or where to go, but he knows he must.

On this earth, there are no medals in this labor, only thorns. There are more rejections than receptions. More who will leave you than who will remain with you. More slander than encouragement. Devils, than angels. Anger against you, than love for you. You will receive no pay, yet it will cost you dearly. 

To stand before others and speak of a Christ you only know about is to offer a stone to the hungry. It is a spiritual bankruptcy that no training or doctrine can hide. If you have not experienced the Christ of whom you speak, you are only presenting a theory—a lecture on a person you have never met and a power you have never walked in. How can a man speak with authority about a place he has never visited? To speak of the Savior without having walked with Him daily is like a beggar describing the inside of a palace he has only seen through a window. The street requires more than information; it requires a witness. You cannot describe the atmosphere of Heaven if you do not breathe its air in your daily life. Without this, your words are hollow, and the work is a pretense.

The street does not need theories; it needs people made alive by the power of God. It does not need those who have only studied the way, but those who have walked the road. We do not offer Christ as a subject for the mind, but as Life itself. We do not merely point to a place called Heaven. Instead, we carry the reality of His Kingdom within us because we have been in the presence of the King.