Stone the Preacher

I hear a lot of sad stories on the streets while sharing my faith; this is one of them:

I met Mike on a recent excursion to the Redondo Beach Pier. He’s currently homeless, but a few years ago he wasn’t. In fact, he was a pastor of a church until his wife suddenly left him.

Disillusioned, he gave up. It’s been many years since he’s been involved in fellowship; he doesn’t have a job, and he gets stopped frequently by the police because of his rolling suitcase. He told me that it carries his car detailing equipment, but the suitcase makes him suspicious to the police.

After giving Mike a $100 bill Gospel tract I encouraged him to come to my church where he can get some food and some help. I haven’t seen him yet. Pray for Mike.

(Note: Mike gave me permission to take his picture and to ask all of you to pray for him.)

We head to the Redondo Pier this Saturday. Meet at Hope Chapel at noon. Click here for more details.

I’m ready to be demoted.

The lady who schedules the invocations for the City of Torrance told my administrative assistant that I would not be able to pray in the name of Jesus, and that if I did, I would not be asked back again. She scheduled my invocational slot for this evening.

I thought back to my conversation with the very friendly City Clerk last year before I was to pray: “We ask that the prayer be non-sectarian” she said. (Read an earlier article about this).

“I’m sorry; I can’t do that,” I replied. “I will be praying in the name of Jesus.”

“That’s okay, but we’ll probably not be able to ask you back. We don’t want people to sue the Mayor.”

Despite assurances from the Mayor (pictured) a few months ago that I could pray in the Name of Jesus, the iron-clad, politically-correct posture of the city was still in place. Again, I remembered the solemn warning from last year’s pre-prayer chat with the City Clerk after telling her that I had to pray in The Name: “It’s okay,” she said calmly. “We’ll just put your name on the bottom of the prayer-person list from now on.”

No problem. I won’t pray in His name. Really. I won’t pray in Jesus’ name.

Here’s what I plan on saying after considering some sage advice given by Greg Koukl, President of Stand to Reason, a wonderful apologetics ministry.

“Thank you for the honor of being able to give the invocation at this Council meeting. I understand that I am not allowed to pray in the name of Jesus. I will honor that request, but want to let everyone know that I will be praying to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, who saved me from Hell by dying for my sins on a cross. I don’t want anyone to be confused on whose God I’m praying to.”

I will offer my prayer, then close with something like, “And I pray this in the Name that is above all names, the King of King’s and Lord of Lords, Amen.”

I emailed Ray Comfort to solicit his advice on the matter; this what he suggested: “[Add this]: ‘the One who rose from the dead on the third day. Amen.’”

And so it will be.

What do you think will happen? Find out tomorrow….

It wasn’t as epic as the struggle between Esau and Jacob, but two brothers, fraternal twins no less, fought to the very end to see who who would score the highest in the latest evangelism class that just ended.

Timothy and Peter Johnson added up their score not knowing who had the highest tally, and at the climactic finish, Timothy won: 168 to 166. Timothy was also born two minutes ahead of his younger brother, so there was something very special—and uncanny—about the number two.

The twins now hold the distinction of being the youngest high-scorers—at age 16—of the Hope Chapel evangelism class. The competitition, with 49 people starting the class, ended with only 22. But they stuck it out to the finish. At stake for the winner was a stack of books, tracts, posters, and Ray Comfort CD’s… OR… a Veg-o-Matic!

This is the Veg-O-Matic, the world-famous food appliance, “. . . the only appliance in the world that slices whole, firm tomatoes in one stroke, with every seed in place. French fries? Make hundreds in one minute! Isn’t that amazing?!”

And now Timothy Johnson is the proud owner of this ’60’s gem.

Won’t Mom be proud?

BUT WAIT! THERE WAS A RECOUNT… AND ANOTHER WINNER! CLICK HERE TO FIND OUT WHO!

What’s this scoring business about anyway? How did Timothy score those points? (more…)

At a recent Street Fair in Palos Verdes two young ladies took our Intelligence Test. After answering the majority of the questions incorrectly, they were sad. After hearing that they had broken God’s Law they were bummed; and when they found out that they were headed for Hell they were downright depressed. Hopefully, the Good News of Christ will lift their spirits—and their souls—because eternity will be here sooner then they think and there is no time for clownin’ around!

Well they’re some sad things known to man
But ain’t too much sadder than
The tears of a clown when there’s no one around
Oh yeah, baby baby, oh yeah baby baby
—Smokey Robinson

I know that a lot of people think that the Million Dollar bill Gospel tract does nothing; they don’t have enough faith to see how God can use those silly little evangelism tools. But God does indeed use them…

A woman told me that she tried to hand this tract to a man in the mall the other night, but he was reluctant to take it. She didn’t give up and insisted. He took the tract.

Last Sunday morning, when I gave the altar call after delivering “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,” to the congregation, she looked up to notice that the very same man who tried to reject her tract, was now walking down the aisle to accept His Savior.

Funny how God uses the foolish things of the world…

(Read part 1 here.)

The irony was delicious. Over the weekend “Bam Bam” Bentley was preaching “another Gospel” to the snookered minions believing that they were attending an actual real revival, while 20 miles to the south, the sermon that actually brought about a true revival, The Great Awakening 267 years ago, was being read.

Taking my cue from Max McLean and his rendition of “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God, I chose to preach it with a calm intensity. (I had heard that Edwards read his text as a monotone; I didn’t do that.) Still, I didn’t want to be overly dramatic or theatrical, wanting to let God do the work in the hearts of the listeners without any manipulation on my part. My text was an easier to read version translated by John Jeffery Fanella.

What would the result be? I made no promises of healing. No assurances of wealth. Nor did I offer anything in this life that would make anyone happy, happy, happy—apart from forgiveness of sins through trust in the Savior. That’s all.

That’s all Jonathan Edwards promised in his sermon when he preached it. That, and the promise of Hell for anyone who would reject this truth.

“The wicked deserve to be thrown into hell. God is not unjust in using His power to destroy them. No, on the contrary, justice calls aloud for an infinite punishment of their sins.”

At the first of our four services for the weekend, our Friday night service, I approached the pulpit with fear and trembling; I actually had to read for 45 straight minutes. Would there be anyone left to hear the call to repentance at the end? During the entire time, you could hear the proverbial pin drop. No one got up to go to the bathroom; no one left their seat for a cup of coffee. Unfortunately, after a near hour of fire and brimstone and threats and warnings—from the pen of Edwards—only two walked to the front to repent and trust in Christ. Salvation is of the Lord, I reminded myself. Maybe Saturday night would be better.

“Nothing keeps wicked people out of hell for a single moment except the mere pleasure of God. By the mere pleasure of God I mean His sovereign pleasure, which is not hindered or restrained by anything. It is only the sovereign will of God that preserves the life of a wicked person. Nothing else preserves the wicked for one moment except God’s mere will.”

Saturday night: Same stillness in the congregation. Same attention paid. Different results: No one came forward at the end to have their sins washed away. Maybe the 8am Sunday morning service would yield better results.

“The wrath of God is burning against them; their damnation is not sleeping; the pit is prepared; the fire is already made; the furnace is hot and ready to receive them. The flames, even now, rage and glow. The shiny sword is sharpened and held over them. The pit has opened its mouth under them.”

Sunday morning, 8am: I used a bit more inflection in my voice. I was now familiar enough with the text that I only had to glance down every now and then. I took pregnant pauses; I looked into people’s eyes at various intervals. Two more came forward and passed from death unto life. There was still one more service to go…

“There can be no other reason given why you have not gone to hell even while sitting here in this church provoking His pure eyes by your sinful, wicked manner of participating in His sacred worship. I declare to you, there can be no other reason why you do not fall into hell this very moment. O sinner! Think seriously about the fearful danger you are in.”

I know that God is in control of whoever comes to Him. I’m well aware that His words never return empty. I’m okay with the fact that I water and sow, but God causes His seed to grow, still…. Why weren’t people fleeing from the wrath to come? Those words of Edwards were immensely frightening and persuasive. His logic in the natural progression of thought concerning the justice of God were flawless. More than all that, these were the very words of God! These were His sober warnings to all those who would die in their sins.

What if God, choosing to show his wrath and make his power known, bore with great patience the objects of his wrath—prepared for destruction? (Romans 9:22)

I changed nothing in my rendition of this classic piece of American literature for the 10:45am service; I entrusted myself to the One Who judges justly. It had nothing to do with me; it was all about Him. I made my appeal at the end of the sermon, explaining that all who broke God’s Commandments were culpable. I warned one more time about Judgment Day and Hell. Then I explained the provision that God had made through His Son Jesus, for all who come to him in humbleness of heart.

“Now, with all the lights on and everyone looking, if you want to repent and trust in the Savior, raise your hands and come forward,” I pleaded. “I know it’s embarassing and a little uncomfortable, but I’d rather you be a little uncomfortable now than for all eternity.” I waited.

One hand, then two went up. They rose from their seats and came forward. The congregation started to applaud, but I asked them to stop and wait. Three hands, four hands… five… eight… twelve… fifteen… sixteen… Nineteen came down to the front of the aisle, some weeping loudly. Weeping?

“For now, God stands ready to have pity on you; this is a day of mercy. Now you may cry with the hope of obtaining mercy. But once the day of mercy is past, your most serious and desperate cries for mercy will be in vain. You will be forever lost, and God will throw you away, no longer giving thought to your welfare.”

God did this for me. He didn’t have to, of course, but in His kindness, and favor, He chose, for this time, to show me a little fruit. He knows that we all want to see something; that we all would like a little verification that what we do—by faith—for Him has merit. Although I know that the work I do for the Lord is not in vain, still, I want to see something, sometimes. But even if I don’t, even if I never did, I would still do what I’m doing, that is, preach the Gospel. I believe God did this for me.

And for His glory.

“Now let everyone who is still without Christ and hanging over the pit of hell—whether old men or women, middle aged people, young people, or children—answer to the loud calls of God’s word and providence. This acceptable year of the Lord, a time of such great blessing to some, will surely be a day of remarkable vengeance to others.”

Read part 3 by clicking here!

The podcast and online version are available here.

What’s it like to preach the most famous American sermon, written nearly 300 years ago, to a contemporary congregation of about 1200 people? What would the reaction be? How many would walk out? Would anyone repent and trust in the Savior or would they fall asleep in their chairs? Might they even stone the preacher?

The results were both disappointing and immensely satisfying as I preached “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” over the weekend to four different services.

I didn’t know what to expect. Could this be the start of another Great Awakening, as happened when Jonathan Edwards himself preached this message in 1741? I’m sure every preacher over the last 260 years had hoped as much…

Well, I’m way to bushed right now to give you the details, astounding as they are, so you will have to wait till Tuesday. But my wife did say that after hearing this hellfire and brimstone message, she was heading straight to the store to get some chocolate—to lift her spirits.

Another woman, Elizabeth Hughes, got the point of this terrifying sermon, then wrote a poem after hearing Edwards “speak”:

The Lord has kept my life afloat.
My life’s not mine, I may not gloat.
He may take my life when he sees fit.
My days have been numbered as I sit.

I can’t save my life by my own power.
I don’t know the minute, or the hour.
It’s only by Jesus I may be saved.
For it’s only Heaven that I have craved.

By God’s grace, I may not go to hell.
This is why everyone I must tell.

If only every Christian took to heart this holy and horrible sermon…

Read part 2 by clicking here to find out what happened next …
The podcast and online version are available here.

Oooooo… I can’t stand it. Ooooo… how frustrating…

Three—count ‘em, three—missed opportunities for preaching to organic congregations in the last week or so: First, there was the iPhone that went on sale here locally at just one outlet. One outlet! I heard that people were lining up hundreds deep for hours on end. Think of all those ears that could’ve heard, the hearts that might’ve opened, the minds that… Oh! Never mind. A friend said, “I wanted to call you, but…” Please call me! Yes! Calllllll meeee! I’m not a techie, but I love techies, and the techies need to hear about their lost condition and the hope that they have apart from some electronic, portable, cool, thinga-majiggee. Was it even an iPhone, or something else?

My second missed opportunity was the IndyMac bank fiasco. All those people waiting in line outside the bank and just up the street from me, waiting to withdraw their loot, their mammon. I just wanted to tell them about the inheritance that can never perish, spoil, or fade—kept in Heaven for them—if they would only repent and believe.

Thirdly… and this really rankles, the largest movie opening ever! EVER! And I missed it. What was I doing anyway?

Holy Gospel tract, Batman!

This Welsh rugby team generally mocked and ignored me as I tried to engage them in eternal things while they sat at an outside patio of a local beach bar. These mates were too taken with Richard Dawkins and his atheistic take-over of Europe to pay any attention to a guy who gently explained that they should flee from the wrath to come. I’m part Welsh, but that didn’t impress these sons of Belial.

The only Welsh Revival these guys will encounter is awakening the next day with a hangover.

We had quite a team of evangelists go to the third game of the Lakers finals at the Staples Center yesterday.

My version of what happened (including my being pulled off forcibly from a three foot ledge by an angry Security guard) will come later. But please visit Tony Miano’s blog to read his version of this exciting event by clicking here!

Evangelism students from across the nation got an eyeful on Hollywood Boulevard. When they signed up to be a part of the Ambassadors’ Alliance evangelism bootcamp, a new ministry started by The Way of the Master, I’m sure they never expected the wide array of interesting characters they’d see while practicing their evangelistic chops.

Student Jennifer Good dared to give Rambo a Million Dollar Bill Gospel tract, and he didn’t even try to kill her.
Our hope is that this Stallone-wannabe would repent, turn to Christ, then get a better job after reading the Gospel presentation on the back of the bill.

The everpresent homeless also heard the Good News.

As did an orthodox Jewish man, who listened intently to “Righteous Richard” Chavarria as he revealed the identity of his Messiah.

But the strangest being on the Boulevard was this guy.
What guy? Exactly. Look carefully. It’s the Demon Tree Guy, a man standing on 5-foot stilts, waiting silently, sneakily, for passersby. As strollers walked past him unaware, what do you think he did?

GOTCHA!!!

That’s right. He stands next to a tree, looking like a tree himself, then steps out and scares people—all day long! Why? I don’t know, but it sure was funny. One of the evangelism students, Michael Chamberlain, after preaching boldly in front of Grauman’s Theater, screamed like a little girl when the Demon Tree Guy stepped out in front of him.

Another group of men were so startled that they swore up and down at him. The Demon Tree Guy’s response? “Hey! What do you expect on Hollywood Boulevard?”

I was so impressed—and entertained—that I tipped him with a giant Hundred Dollar Bill.

I love to reward creativity.

READ PART 5 HERE!

One of the benefits of sharing our faith on Hollywood Blvd., like we did as members of the Ambassadors’ Academy last week, was that we had the opportunity to meet up with some very strange characters—and sometimes they even wear costumes!

An evangelism student from Texas, Alan Lee, tried to salvage the little green soul of Shrek!

The amazing thing was, he came back to Alan four times, wanting to know more about the way of salvation.

Can’t say the same for Freddy Krueger…

Watch an interview with Freddy Krueger here.

READ PART 3 HERE!

Read about another time, when I tried to give Mickey Mouse a gospel presentation at Disneyland by clicking here.

The Way of the Master’s soundman and techie (and all-around nice guy) Scottie, needed our help down in Huntington Beach on Saturday while Ray was away at a conference. He had a challenge on his hands: 47 choir members from a Mennonite Bible School in Pennsyvania were scheduled to visit the rough-hewn Pier where lesser mortals were known to be reduced to tears because of the intense conflict between open air preachers and the incorrigible pagan crowd. (C’mon, Steve. Who has ever been reduced to tears? you ask. Well, my wife and children for instance.)

What would the Mennonite singers think of all this? Would they lose their faith? Would they lose their innocence? What were they thinking coming down to this Philistine encampment in the O.C.?

We were pleasantly surprised!

They came to sing! And boy did they sing! Hallelujah choruses and sanctified songs celebrating the Savior among the sinners and saints! What was the reaction? Rapt attention. While a performer wheeled about on his 15-foot unicycle across the way, the greater audience listened—listened!—to the cherubic voices of the angels.

The Holy in Huntington.

After a few hymns were sung, a succession of preachers stood on the preaching box ready to deliver the message of salvation while the Mennonite singers stood around to listen, also with rapt attention.

Then we preached to the choir!

This man is a sold out evangelist who graduated from my class about a year ago. On Monday he was arrested in a Communist country, whereabouts unknown.

As a covert missionary to this Communist country he has been evangelizing for many, many years, but when he understood the teaching of “Hell’s Best Kept Secret,” he took off like a rocket.

He has since been released and wants to come back to the States. Please pray for him.

A few months ago he joined us on a local evangelistic excursion. He told me about the time he was stopped by a Security guard and was commanded to leave the premises for handing out tracts: “I then asked to speak to the guard’s Supervisor. The Supervisor told me that I couldn’t do this, so I asked to speak to a police officer. When he told me I couldn’t evangelize, I asked to speak to his Watch Commander. Finally, when the Watch Commander told me I still couldn’t do this, I left the premises.”

“Where did you learn all this?” I asked.

“From you. From your class.”

Good student.

Leuzinger High School in Lawndale is known as a tough school.
Question: How did I get these teens together to hear the Gospel in a Taco Bell and why did they allow me to take a picture… and why did they thank me afterward? Tune in tomorrow for the answers—and for some more shocking photos!!!

On a recent visit to Little Saigon we gave a $100 Bill Gospel tract to a woman who was 103-years-old! I encouraged one of the Vietamese women on our team to present the Gospel to Granny because time was of the essence. She did.

“She says that she’s Catholic!” our Vietamese translator protested.

“I don’t care,” I replied. “Ask her if she has repented.”

Her Grandson-in-law, who was pushing her wheelchair and who apparently had issues with this sweet little Centenarian, interrupted our evangelistic encounter:

“She’ll never admit to any wrong. She came at me with a knife once and she still is not sorry.”
 
Poo-pooing our sense of urgency, he added: “Her mom lived to be 112; you’ll see her next year.”

I was on the campus of Los Cerritos College doing a little evangelizing with my friend Tony Miano, when a rather strange man, incoherent and a bit confused, offered us an opportunity to visit his website, which had something to do with his nickname, “The Dollhouse Dude,” a name that was apparently given to him by the students on campus. Thinking it was a questionable site, not fit for a good Christian’s eyes, we changed the subject to eternal things. “If you were to die today, would you go to Heaven or Hell?” I asked. Refusing to answer, he disappeared behind his van.

A few minutes later Tony shouted, “Whoa!” when he spotted the strange man returning from his vehicle.

I turned around to see that the Dollhouse Dude was indeed The Dollhouse Dude!

Apparently, his fame had gone to his head.

Tony Miano is the head of the Ambassador’s Alliance, a new evangelism training school of The Way of the Master. You can read Tony’s version of events at his blog, The Lawman Chronicles, by clicking here!

Yesterday the evangelism team hit The Martin Luther King Jr. Parade in a community in which many of us were not familiar. One of the highlights was handing Stevie Wonder a giant $100.00 bill Gospel tract—and getting a picture of the hand off! Tune in tomorrow…

At the beginning of December I made a proposal to my Senior Pastor and boss, Zac, that went something like this: “I have a special tract that the whole congregation can pass out; it’s easier to give away than the million dollar bill; and we can motivate the whole church to do it by calling this program The 12 Tracts of Christmas. 

“On the outside the tract will say ‘Happy Holidays!’ so as not to offend anyone. 
“All we have to do is greet strangers and friends with a cheerful ’Happy Holidays!’ and hand them one. I think we can print 10,000 of these easily with the whole church getting involved in handing them out. We will just convert the “Will your good outweigh your bad?” tract.

“On the back of the tract we will print, ‘Indeed, have a happy holiday, but the reason for the season is Jesus Christ! So… MERRY CHRISTMAS!’ And of course on the inside people will measure their “good” compared to the standard of God’s 10 Commandments. That will be the offense.”

We rolled out the program and what were the results? We ran out of tracts before the fourth service congregation left the building. We printed 10,000 more the next weekend. Gone.

We’re now preparing our “Happy New Year 2008 A.D.” tracts for January.
20,000 of them!

The high school kid in line at Rite Aide drugstore didn’t want the giant hundred dollar bill after he found out that it was a “religious” tract, so he tried to hand it back to me. “Sorry,” I said. “I can’t take it back.” He insisted. I refused.

Looking around, he tried offering it to a neighbor of mine who was also standing in the long line. “Don’t take that back from him, Bernice,” I gently warned my neighbor. She smiled knowingly. Frustrated, he held the bill aloft, not knowing what to do with this offensive piece of literature. “You’re going to have to throw it away,” I teased, glancing over at the trash receptacle.

He hesitated, not wanting to leave his place in line. “And don’t litter,” I reminded him. Another lady standing in line grinned.

He crunched up the tract into a little ball, squeezed it firmly, then… stuffed it into his pocket… to be read at a later time.

(Read the reasons why every evangelist should “Go Armless!” here.)

The Surfrider Foundation had a team cleaning up the beaches. “Thanks a million!” I said, handing everyone a million dollar bill Gospel tract. They all thanked me for the “cash” until I got to the Asian man. “I don’t need it.” he said angrily. 

“But it has the million dollar question on the back: If you were to die today, would you go to Heaven or Hell?” I pleaded.

“This isn’t Sunday. If I wanted to hear a sermon I’d be in church.”

I walked away and tried to hand one out to another lady. “I already threw the one you gave me away.”

Beware of environmental groups who are so earthly-minded they’re no Heavenly good.

A new neighbor is moving in next door. My family greeted her kindly and I offered that I was a pastor “at a church just up the street called Hope Chapel.”

“Oh,” she replied. “What kind of church is it?”

Instead of explaining the complicated distinctions of a Foursquare church, I casually said that we are “born-again Christians.”

“Really?” she said smiling. “I need to be born again.”

Say that again?

I looked for the hidden camera.

What a difference a few miles make!

In Hermosa Beach a few weeks ago, at the Fiesta Hermosa, angry people shouted us down when we preached the gospel and shared our faith; tracts would get tossed aside and there was a general spirit of indifference and rebellion.

But last Saturday the situation was very different indeed! In El Segundo, the people at The Richmond Street Fair were friendly, accomodating and attentive when we talked of eternal things.

John Wesley experienced the same things in Britain 250 years ago and wrote about them on his blog, then called a diary:

“About eleven we took horse. While we were dining at Nairn, the innkeeper said, ‘Sir, the gentlemen of the town have read the little book you gave me on Saturday, and would be glad if you would please to give them a sermon.’ Upon my consenting, the bell was immediately rung, and the concregation was quickly in the kirk (church). Oh what a difference is there between South and North Britain! Everyone here at least loves to hear the Word of God, and none takes it in his head to speak one uncivil word to any for endeavoring to save their souls.”

And last Wednesday, 60 miles away in Pomona at the L.A. County Fair, my family and I handed out nearly 1500 Gospel tracts to wildly enthusiastic crowds!

Not one stone was thrown.

(Read part 1 of 5 here.)

Everyone loves a mime.

That’s not true.

Kids love mimes; most adults can’t stand them. But there are some good ones, like at SeaWorld. In anticipation of another otter/seal/walrus act, a mime came out to do a pre-show warm up for the audience. At my insistence, our 8-year-old D. D. climbed to the front of the stage and handed the mime a million dollar bill Gospel tract.
He showed it to the audience and then the audience clamored for them. D.D. then ran back to the front and gave the mime a stack. To our amazement the mime ran into the audience and started handing out the tracts to all who wanted them.

Talk about a silent witness!!!

Create your own pre-show fun by helping to alleviate the boredom that accompanies a long wait before a whale/dolphin/trained jellyfish spectacle, by sharing your Gospel tracts with all those around you. Let them read about their standing before a Holy God who will judge them against His perfect Law and if found guilty will end up in Hell. Before the singing sea anenome takes the stage, allow them to reflect on whether they want to repent and put their trust in the Savior—all by reading a simple Gospel tract

Take the edge off of shelling out your six clams for a drink—by giving the vendors a million!

It’s better than working for peanuts…

SHAMU!!! Gesundheit.

(Read the conclusion here)

The men of Hope Chapel attended a retreat this weekend, the topic being “Spiritual Warfare.” After lunch, eight of us hunkered down to do a two hour Bible study on the subject. When finished, everyone noticed that a bunch of guys were whooping it up on the soccer field.
Others were shooting hoops, playing Ping-Pong, tossing Horse Shoes, or just hanging out and relaxing—all perfectly normal activities that men engage in at retreats.

I asked our study group a simple question: “What would you guys like to do now, play soccer or go out and evangelize?”

To my great shock and amazement they all answered enthusiastically, “EVANGELIZE!!!”
Oh me of little faith!

Pass the mustard seed, please…

My wife had a heart attack scare!

I rushed her to the Emergency Room after getting a call that she was experiencing chest pains while taking a walk on the beach. During the 10 hours we were there, I watched her endure multiple blood tests, electro-cardiogram monitoring, nuclear studies, and a treadmill test, all ultimately showing us… nothing! Her heart appears to be working properly, and there is no damage to the heart walls, but we still don’t know what caused the pain in her chest… and she’s still experiencing them.
We prayed and called out to God for wisdom and healing. We thanked God for our insurance, the attentive hospital staff, and the fact that we have great health care in America. We thanked God for being who he was, and is.

Then I wondered about what atheists do in their time of trouble. Who do they call upon? They trust in the wisdom of science, and facts, empirical evidence, and empty philosophies that provide no hope. Oh Scientist help me!

I mused on all the others who don’t know—who don’t care—that there is a God who demonstrated His love for them by sending His Son to die on a cross so their sins could be forgiven, so that they could be healed of their worst disease, sin.

And I was thankful that I had my Million-Dollar Gospel tracts with me…

Did you ever notice that the hospital is filled with sick and hurting people?

After a day spent in the hospital with my wife, I realized once again how many opportunities there are to share the Gospel. Though my attention was focused solely on caring for my Karen, I made the most of every opportunity during bathroom breaks, food runs, and coffee replenishments.

To the hard-working hospital volunteers I would say, “You are doing a great job; here’s a million dollars!” They’d laugh, smile, and ask for more. Everyone loves to be appreciated.

The doctors would thank me when I assured them that what they did was worth millions, while handing them a tract, too.

I gave the nurses “raises,” telling them that they deserved their millions for putting up with all the guff from grumpy patients and bossy doctors.
Patients in the waiting room, janitors, visitors, and elevator riders all received the good news printed on the back of a phony million dollar bill. Every single person was grateful to get one!

The friendly Security guards—three of them—heard of their future if they didn’t repent.

The cashier who gave me change for a newspaper guffawed in delight when she was handed a tract.

And I actually “bribed” our nurse to let us out early once we were cleared to go.

Next time you are waiting in the emergency room for a doctor, take advantage of the time by telling others of the Great Physician…
…who heals everytime.

(Please continue to pray for my wife. As of this morning, she is still experiencing chest pains and has an irregular heart beat. She will try to see a cardiologist next week.)

I saw him. He saw me.
Dreaded Security.

At the mall.

Again.

“Are you still handing out those Million-dollar bill Gospel tracts? You know that you are not supposed to do that,” 19-year-old Ryan stated flatly, his badge glistening in the setting sun.

“Yes, I am,” I admitted, “and I will stop. BUT! I will be using Illusion Tracts instead.” I pulled out two from my shirt pocket.

“I can still have conversations with people using these! And I promise I won’t give them to anybody!”

“Well… the other security guards may not like it.” Ryan sounded apprehensive.

“There is still no law against my having conversations with people…” I reminded. I smiled, then walked away. Ryan kept his well-trained eye on me until I was out of sight.

Two weeks later, Ryan spotted me walking down the main aisle. I saw him before he spotted me. He knew that I knew that he knew why I was there: to seek and to save that which is lost—and I was using the verboten Million Dollar Bill Gospel Tract!

I averted my eyes. He did, too, and kept walking.

Appeasement.

(Eyeball photo from christopher-thomas.net Illusion Tracts from livingwaters.com)

Stephanie McCullough, rushed into management’s office and politely asked for an application to set up a booth inside the mall.
Stephanie felt that this was the ministry for her. She was undaunted by the 15-page application that she has to fill out every time she requests a table. It’s worth it!

Why is it worth it?? Because hundreds upon hundreds of shoppers stop by, chat, take Gospel tracts—some even get saved!

The first time management set her up in the Galleria, they were very polite and accommodating. A nice black cloth was placed under her display, and three chairs were set up for other volunteers. She was then placed in a prime location: Under a stairwell, on a side-wing of the mall, with a huge sign selling shoes placed right in front of her table! Still, with all those hindrances, she and her volunteers handed out over 8,000 Gospel tracts.

And the really amazing thing?

Other Christians can’t wait to assist her on the next outing.

Stephanie told me this: “Before I learned “Hell’s Best Kept Secret,” I didn’t know how I could be used in the Kingdom of God. Now I know my purpose… evangelizing the lost!”

Last Friday I had a hankerin’ to head down my block and wait outside the Catholic Church.
It was nearly 1:00pm and I wanted to hand out Million-Dollar bill Gospel-Tracts to the faithful exiting the hallowed halls after their traditional Good Friday Service. My reasoning was this: For those who truly know the Lord, they would be blessed to read the Gospel message after worshiping Him; to those who don’t, it would be a vivid reminder of what awaits them if they should trample His pearls underfoot.

Grabbing a huge stack of the bills, I scurried down the hill, and waited.

I asked a family rushing into the service what time it was going to end. “It should end about 1pm,” Mom replied.

Another lady was running very late, but I caught her before she disappeared inside the cavernous sanctuary. “What time is the service over?” I inquired.

“Oh. I think it’s a three hour service today.” She headed in.

A man was leaving the service. “Is it almost over?” I queried.

“Yeah. A few more minutes.”

I looked at my watch. Hmmmm… 1:10. I have an appointment at 1:30; I can’t wait much longer. I put the three-inch stack of tracts into my pocket. A woman was leaving the service, so I asked her if it was almost over.

“Almost!”

People flitted in and out for the next ten minutes. I thought for a moment that I was standing in front of a Protestant church!

Time to go; it was now 1:20. One last peek into the sanctuary— full house.

I left disappointed that I couldn’t hand out masses of millions to the masses after mass. Man, if they want to get serious about reaching people with the Gospel, they sure had better shorten their services.

Didn’t these people have anything better to do than worship God all day?

It was a simple greeting and a simple question. But a very strange reaction…
Peet’s coffee is better than Starbuck’s, but since there isn’t one on every corner I patronize the place rarely.

“Happy Good Friday!” I said cheerfully to the server at the counter.

“Happy, uh, Good… Friday,” she replied haltingly.

“Do you know the meaning of Good Friday?” I asked.

“No, not really.”

“It’s the day that Jesus was crucified for our sins and died. Why do you think it was good?”

“I…uh… don’t know…”

I hadn’t given my order yet and there were no other customers in line, so I took advantage of the vacuum—by giving my 17 second sermon: “Well, if you’ve ever broken any of God’s 10 Commandments—if you’ve ever lied or stolen–then He will see you as a lying thief; and if you’re found guilty of one sin, then the penalty is eternity in Hell.”

Her eyes were fixed on mine. I had her. She looked like she might be receptive to the Gospel, maybe even ready to bow the knee to her Creator right there next to the Sulawesi Dark blend. “But Jesus died on a cross for all of us—and that is good. If you repent and turn your life over to God by believing in Jesus—“

Her head twitched. Her eyes became a flame of fire. Then she shook her head violently… and ran away; she stopped only to talk to a co-worker, and then bolted into a backroom, never to be seen again.
Her co-worker then stepped up to take my order.

“Is she alright?” I asked concerned. “I don’t think she liked what I had to say.”

“She’ll be okay,” the co-worker assured.

I thought about this for a few seconds. I looked at the menu board, buying some time, wondering what I should say to this new server. I knew what I had to say:

“Happy Good Friday!”

(I had a second encounter with this lady on Friday the 13th. Read it here.)