I preach to save souls, but I experienced an Ezekiel 3 moment a couple years ago that made that burden secondary (Eze 3:16-21).
After I’d informed a homeless shelter that I wouldn’t be preaching in the courtyard anymore because of all the haters, a man I took to be a hard case approached.
He called me Preacher and I called him Mississippi. He chain-smoked and spoke with a drawl, and whenever asked how he’s doing, always responded the same way: I’m doing great!
“Hey, Preacher. You like cheeseburgers?”
“Come on, man. You know I like cheeseburgers.”
“You know,” pondered Mississippi, “there’s a difference between fasting and starving.”
I’m 5’11” and usually weigh upward of 150, but lately protein had been scarce and I was down to maybe 130.
“Yeah, I know that.”
“Wednesdays at the Wellness Center is cheeseburger day.”
“Sweet. I’ll be there. Praise God, and thank you.”
He turned and started down the sidewalk, not saying anything, then stopped and turned back again to me.
“If you’re here and you don’t preach here, that’s on you.”
And then Mississippi walked away.
I got the message (Eze 3:16-21).
I preached that evening in front of the courtyard at the usual time, 10 minute message at 5 o’clock, and daily over the next few weeks.
One day Mississippi approached.
“Never got your name, Preacher.”
I introduce myself every day, but he sits down the block when I preach.
I already knew his name is Brian.
“My name’s Christopher,” I told him.
Brian still calls me Preacher, so I still call him Mississippi.
The cheeseburgers at the Wellness Center are excellent for the price, which is $0.00. I never saw Mississippi there.