Message Delivery
By Mindy Silva
Have you ever
delivered the
message of
salvation to
someone and the
very next day
the person ends
up murdered?
Murdered, not
died of natural
cause or from an
accident or
disease.
What I am about
to describe is a
true story. I
was thirteen or
so and attending
a Pentecostal
church with my
family. We lived
in Hell’s
Kitchen at the
time, in NYC. My
best friend
lived in the
building right
next to ours,
and her father
and mother owned
a factory not
too far from
there.
One day I was
standing outside
our building and
her father was
on his way home.
He stopped to
chat briefly and
I invited him to
our church
services that
coming weekend.
It was Thursday.
The man reacted
to my invitation
a bit
vociferously,
telling me he
didn’t need to
go to church,
etc., etc. I
snapped back
with the gospel
telling him he
might not have
another chance
to make a
decision to go,
as I kept urging
him to find God.
He didn’t need
to find God, he
said.
This was my
first one-to-one
encounter in
preaching the
gospel. I had
done so from the
pulpit, on the
streets of NYC,
in evangelistic
rallies, in
other churches
across the five
boroughs, and
even overseas.
But never
one-on-one. Not
having done so
previously, I
was still very
insistent.
The next
day, during the
evening, we
heard loud
shouts and
screams floating
up from the
basement of the
apartment
building. Now
considering
where we lived,
this was nothing
new. So we
didn’t meddle,
figuring it was
gang-related.
My friend
came by the next
morning,
Saturday,
telling us her
father had not
come home the
previous night
and that they
were all
worried, for he
carried the
bankroll on him.
Then I told her
what we had
heard the
previous night.
The police
came and after
asking me some
questions, went
down to the
basement. Her
father had been
murdered...not
too far from
where we had
stood that
Thursday when I
had asked him to
give his heart
to the Lord.
I buried
that memory,
hardly ever
resurfacing
again throughout
the years, but
this morning it
popped out of
nowhere. I can
remember the
fire that burned
within me as I
tried to tell
the man to
accept Christ.
The memory is
too vivid, as if
I was there all
over again. And
I relive the
fire.
When we feel
that fire in our
hearts to speak
to someone or
put our words in
writing, there
is a recipient
waiting at the
other end whose
ears or eyes
need to hear the
message.
We may find
ourselves at
that moment
questioning
ourselves, but
we shouldn’t.
Thank God that
at that age, I
was young enough
not to know any
different. Now
after living for
the Lord for so
many years, I
can look back
and pray that as
this man was
being murdered,
he had the
conscience to
cry out to God
to save his
soul.
The
other day I
wrote a piece on
relationships;
the roles
sometimes
assigned by
default by the
husband to the
wife. As I
wrote, I found
it strange, for
I knew it was
not something I
was going to
post. As I was
nudged to keep
writing, I knew
enough to know
it was meant for
someone to hear
this, I just
didn’t know who.
Right after
I finished
typing it, I
received a
long-distance
call from a very
close friend who
is taking baby
steps in her new
walk with the
Lord. As she
spoke, it became
evident to me
that she was the
person I had to
deliver the
message to. As I
read it to her,
things clicked
into place for
her and the
situation facing
her.
The
message we are
responsible for
delivering
through our lips
or our pen,
cannot be
diluted or
ignored, or put
off ‘til later,
unless it is
meant to (for
reasons not
obvious at the
moment).
Many might think
that a title or
degree is needed
to bring this
message across.
It might, or it
might not—it all
depends on the
audience of your
mission field.
The results
might be
evidenced
immediately or
they might not.
But if there is
fire in your
heart behind the
message, then
there is fire in
the results of
the message—one
you may or may
not get to see.
And, as His
messengers, it
is not for us to
see, but to sow.
©Mindy Silva
2014
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