Exloring Life Eternal

Today I got to talkin' with a couple of young guys at a busstop. They were semi hip, and were being slammed with weather in their faces. It was cold, but we had fun. When we got on the bus, I started earing with the plough of the Bible. One listened more intently than the other. The younger one. I was able to share the whole Gospel with him before he took off.

There was another fellow on the bus in the backseat. I got up & moved to the back seat on the othere side of the bus. We got to talking ... turns out that he speaks Somali as his second language and his parents are from Somalia. He claimed to be a Muslim, but not too strict about Islam. Most of the conversation centered around the need for someone to pay the sin-debt that we have. Atonement is necessary for God's forgiveness to be of any effect in our lives. The blood of Christ must be applied to the doors of our heart if we want to feast with him on the last day. Overall, it seemed like a productive time. He took a tract and was willing to read it.

He read a little from Psalms 22 and correctly ascribed that to Jesus. May Ah. come to know the Messiah personally.

He left to visit a relative ... I continued on, with a song in my heart.

I ride the busses.

On them, I meet folks from a wide range of social backgrounds and abilities: Mentally challenged, gangsta kids, collegians, retired folks. Black-White-Asian-Latino-Arab-Slavic, etc. Engaging people in conversation is the key to making the most of the time. It is not very easy to engage some folks. I recall one fellow did not have any interest in the Gospel or talking about much of anything. He figured that an intimation of his Masonic fraternity links should suffice to blow off some kid who believed Jesus should be proclaimed widely. It didn't work. I reminded the man of what Jesus said, "The stone that the masons rejected has become the cheif capstone." I reminded him that there still was time to repent. He was uninterested, but he refused any further acknowledgement of my existence and promptly clammed up.

I've ridden in cars. I've biked across town. I've walked across town late at night. But I prefer to ride on the busses. Alone, I can walk with God. In the busses, God rides along and claims first place amid the discussions.

Recently a conversation revealed some encouragement like others had: a high school student recognized me as the guy who talked about Jesus. He confessed to some jail time. He confessed his change of attitude from mocking to humility. He goes to church. He knows about Jesus. But he needed a little lift, a reminder of God's grace.

He got it.

But there are too many bus routes, too many times that there are people ripe for the gospel, too many times that rowdiness prevails over the reign of God. I've found that if there is a group of rowdies, the mere presence of a semi adult person brings a little order.

"Lord, raise up more people for bus ministry."