Open Air: While The Warm Weather Lasts

It’s been a busy week, so far - but today I’m on my own at last, and I’ve just reviewed the GoPro video from July 24. It’s taken me half of the morning, but it can be summarised relatively briefly. I’ll begin with Stephen’s notes for that Wednesday and for the previous one.

17.7

A young man named B. stopped me while I was preaching and asked for a Bible. He seemed genuinely appreciative. I didn't talk to him at any length. He may possibly be a believer. I spent quite a long time talking to a man named M. He was brought up as an atheist. He said that he would like to be a Christian but he is interested in all religions. He took copies of John's Gospel and “The Real Jesus”.

24.7 

I didn't have any useful conversations. A Muslim man was insistent that God has no son. Another man was insistent that ‘Jesus’ is the wrong name for Christ.

Wednesday 24 was a warm day, with light cloud cover and occasional sunshine, freshened up by a breeze blowing across the pedestrianised area on the edge of Piccadilly Gardens where we usually set up our stall. I talked to Peter as Stephen readied himself, then we took up our positions to tract as Stephen preached.

I’d say it was a slow start, even though there were plenty of folk about. Many were in shorts and sports tops, even though they didn’t look at all athletic, for the most part. The only moment of note was when two young Muslim girls took a tract, all smiles - something that doesn’t usually happen if they’re accompanied by a man.

A gent in colourful trousers came by with a massive mobile stall laden with cuddly toys. He parked it at Stephen’s side, threw a sheet over it and wandered off, telling me to keep an eye on it! Have I started to look trustworthy all of a sudden? It’s about time…

A little later, as I took over the preaching, the sheet began to blow about in the wind, so Stephen had to pull it back into place several times. I used the speaker to summon the stall’s owner, but it was a while before he came back. A little group of youths appeared and one of them asked if he could have the mic to say hello to his mother. Perhaps he thought we were live on air.

Then, as so often, an unkempt individual began to shout abuse from a safe distance. I adopted a baffled expression. “Give me a chance! I haven’t even said anything yet!” He kept it up for a while, then he got tired and wandered off.

I got going at last, accompanied by the first busker of the day warbling away in the background. Stephen talked to a few folk, I had a couple of casual listeners, then one of them went to Stephen for a tract and returned to his bollard to read it. But it was all pretty low-key for most of the time. Another busker began to play somewhere behind me, and then it was time to change over again.

While tracting I noticed that nearly half of those passing by had earbuds in, or were wearing those big headphones that shut out everything except the music that they’re playing. And then there were numbers of folk talking in foreign languages, who might have had difficulty in understanding us.

But some must have heard something. A family standing outside McDonald’s sent their little son over for a tract, and then Peter brought a man for a free bible.

I eyed him as I handed it to him. He was not yet middle-aged, but he looked as if he’d been through the mill. As our conversation progressed, he showed me the scars to prove it. It was a pretty harrowing account, which I will not repeat here. You’re better not knowing. However, watching it over on the GoPro, I couldn’t help thinking that what we had there was a very useful division of labour: one preaching, one tracting, and one talking. That’s good!

He was moved to embrace me before he left; I would have been happy with a handshake, to be honest, but, there you go… And then it was time to change over for the last lap.

I did the best I could, on sin, judgement, repentance, and being born again; but after it was all over, I wondered whether I’d been fluent enough, or forceful enough, or indeed, faithful enough in preparation. Ah well, “Better second house” as theatricals were wont to say; or in our case, “There’s always next Wednesday” - God willing, of course.

Please pray, if you would, for the following folk.

B., who wanted a bible.

M., who was brought up as an atheist.

P., the man who had been through the mill and had ended up in prison.

The man to whom Solomon spoke on July 17.

R.’s wife, going through radiation therapy.

Brendan, our faithful friend for years, also undergoing treatment for cancer.

All those others who took tracts, talked, or heard something of the gospel being preached on the last three Wednesdays that we’ve been out.

We will be there again, God willing, next Wednesday. Join us while the warm weather lasts!

Every blessing!