This weekend was the 4th of July and we went out witnessing as I described in my last post. When I go out witnessing I have good and bad days. Some day's I'm able to talk to whoever and some days I'm afraid to hand out a tract. Usually I console myself with the sovereignty of God and that God will send someone else to reach the people I miss and/or am afraid to talk to.
This usually allows me to feel O.K. while I'm still out, but its the next day that has its way with me. I find that those I purposely missed or avoided- faces are burned into my mind! The mean looking soldier, the thugs with dreads and chains, the kid with spikes in his face, and the man with the tattoos all are vivid memories in my mind.
Oh how I always wish I could do it over again. The regret, the guilt. I watched and allowed people to wonder past me into the eternal abyss of hell. What a wretched man I am! I allowed my fear to prevent someone from receiving the gospel.
When I woke up this morning I felt like Paul Washer when he said, "I woke up this morning a little bit sad because last night I did not live for Christ as I wanted to, I did not reflect his glory as I hoped. But i was not in despair because I know that He who began a good work in me will finish it"
Read about the arrest of one of the people we witnessed to here.