The Library as a Place of Evangelistic Ministry
The library is an important place to my family. It has been for many years. Mahria and our three daughters spent many hours visiting the library, as she homeschooled the girls. Today, my daughter Marissa is a youth librarian for the City of Los Angeles. And I am writing this article from the second floor of our local library–the library where my daughter Amanda presently serves as a page. Sitting not more than ten feet from me, with his elbow on the arm of a chair, chin resting in his hand, and staring out a large window watching cars move up and down Railroad Street, is the man about whom this story is written.
I first discovered the library as an evangelistic fishing pond last year when I visited Calvary Chapel Redding (Jim Jarrett, pastor). Redding (CA), of course, is notorious for being the home of the Bethel Redding cult. During my time in Redding, I joined David Baker and other members of the church family for multiple times of ministry outside the Shasta County Public Library. We distributed many tracts, copies of the Scriptures, and engaged lots of people in gospel conversations.
There are several features that commend the local library as a viable place of evangelistic ministry.
- Public libraries, whether city, county, or state, are on public property. Public venues have been held as free speech safe havens since America was in her infancy.
- Most people who come to the library are not in a big hurry. So, it’s often easier to get folks to stop and talk.
- Giving people something to read as they enter or exit a library is not seen by people as an odd thing.
- ALL kinds of people come to the library, from the youngest students to the eldest bibliophiles, from people who own multiple homes to the homeless (libraries are places where the homeless congregate for a safe and quiet place to rest their feet or to get out of extreme weather conditions). The library is a great location for talking to many different kinds of people.
Still recovering from surgery and trying to ease back into a daily street ministry routine, I decided to spend some time yesterday outside our local library. I was blessed to distribute a number of copies of the Gospel of John and engage in one significant conversation.
Meeting John
When I arrived, I immediately handed out a few copies of the Gospel of John to library patrons. Sitting outside the library was a homeless man. His disheveled appearance, dirty clothes, and sun-baked, leathery skin kept my judgment by appearance from being a sinful one. Draped over his right shoulder was a leather jacket–likely the highest valued possession he owned.
The homeless man watched me as I distributed the first few copies of the Gospel of John and set up shop on a large, concrete planter just outside the doors of the library. I opened my Bible and began to silently read the Sermon on the Mount. I paused and looked in the man’s direction. I stopped reading, closed my Bible, and walked over to him.
I smiled and said, “Here’s something for your soul and something for lunch.”
I carry a stock of $5 McDonald’s gift cards for when the Lord presents such opportunities. I never give homeless people money. I believe it is poor stewardship to do so. I cannot be certain that a well-intended monetary gift will not be used to place intoxicants in a homeless person’s vein, nose, or liver. If a homeless person asks me for money, I always ask him (or her) if he is hungry. If he says yes, then I gladly stop what I’m doing and find him something to eat nearby.
It’s amazing how often a homeless person will approach me with a smile on his face and ask for money, only to become angry when I offer him something to eat. One such person was a woman who, for some time, I saw frequently on Hollywood Boulevard. One day she asked me for a quarter. When I asked her what a quarter would buy her in Los Angeles, she said (with a straight face), “That’s all I need to collect to have all of my rent money.”
I asked her where she lived where her landlord would not accept rent payment, minus 25 cents. No answer.
“Would you like something to eat?” I asked.
“No!” She screamed. “I want money!”
The homeless man outside the library accepted the gift of spiritual food and the means for acquiring some nourishment. “Thank you.” He said. “God bless you.”
His name was John.
I walked back to my spot at the planter and continued to read my Bible and distribute copies of the Gospel of John.
Establishing Rapport
A few minutes passed before John walked over to me. “Do you have any bibles?” John asked.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I only brought copies of the Gospel of John with me today.” I replied.
“Oh. That’s okay. It’s a good thing you’re doing out here.” John said.
I engaged John in conversation and was quickly able to establish a rapport with him.
John is Pima Indian by birth. Born on one of two Pima Reservations in southern Arizona (Gila River Indian Community or Salt River Pima-Maricopa Indian Community), John was taken as an infant from his family’s reservation in Arizona to Los Angeles, where he was adopted by a Quaker couple who had relocated from Ohio.
John boasted that two great football players came from his tribe: Jim Thorpe and Jim Plunkett. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, but, being a fan of both sports and history, I decided to do some checking when I got home. Jim Thorpe (1888-1953) was a member of the Sac and Fox Indian Nation (Oklahoma). And while Jim Plunkett (still living) has some Native American blood, he is 90% Mexican. Both parents (both born blind) are of Mexican descent.
I learned that John had worked in the aluminum wheel industry for many years. Seven years ago, as his company downsized, he was laid off. Serving as a day laborer and doing other odd jobs through a temporary employment agency, he has struggled to find consistent employment ever since. As a result of losing his job, John lost, as he put it, “everything.” He said it “destroyed” him. John has been homeless for several years.
Engaging in Gospel Conversation
When there was a lull in the conversation (John did most of the talking), I transitioned to something eternally more important–the condition of John’s soul.
“John, do you have any spiritual beliefs?” I asked.
“Oh, yes! I was raised Quaker, so I have the truth!” John answered.
“What does that mean?” I asked. “The idea of truth means different things to different people.”
“I believe in the Lord. Only those who call God ‘Jehovah’ or ‘Yahweh’ can be saved. Not everyone goes to heaven, just like not everyone can be in congress.” John said.
“So, what must a person do to go to heaven?” I asked.
“You must obey Jesus’ commands to go to heaven.”
“Have you done that perfectly every day of your life?”
“No. I sin every day. But so long as you do your best, God will accept that.”
“John, God will not accept that. In fact, God will not accept anything we offer Him in an effort to buy, earn, or deserve salvation and His forgiveness.”
John began to show signs of agitation. He began to string together theological concepts in a manner that was barely coherent. John seemed to have all of his mental faculties. Up to that moment, we had an intelligent conversation. However, the moment I began to challenge his thinking, he unleashed a wave of unbiblical thoughts. It was as if he was thinking so fast that his mouth could not keep up.
John talked about everything from the concept of a pre-flood canopy to his belief that Israel had rid the world of evil when they entered the Promised Land, from his belief that fallen angels were allowed back in heaven after they married women on earth to the belief in Annihiliationism.
I tried my best to let John speak uninterrupted, but it soon became clear that our conversation was moving from a dialogue between two men to a speech by one man. I began to interject whenever John said something erroneous about the Word of God or the character of Christ. As I did, I tried to communicate the truth of of the gospel of Jesus Christ to him.
John continued to insist that there are good people in the world and that he was one of them.
As I opened my Bible, John took a position next to me so he could see the text. I turned to Romans 3. Pointing to the passage with my index finger, I said, “Here let me show you; Romans 3, verses 10 to 18. ‘None is righteous, no, not one; no one understands; no one seeks for God. All have turned aside; together they have become worthless; no one does good, not even one. Their throat . . .'”
Suddenly, John grabbed the pages in my Bible. I didn’t know if he was trying to turn the page or rip the pages from the Book.
“Turn to Matthew!” John yelled.
I pulled the Bible away from John and, while trying to maintain a library volume and tone of voice, said, “What are you doing? I’m showing you truth from God’s Word and you are refusing to submit to what it says.”
Again, reaching for my Bible, John said, “Let me see your Bible.”
“No, John. I will not let you see my Bible. You’re wrong about who God is. You’re wrong about who Jesus Christ is. You’re wrong about the way of salvation. And you must repent.” I said.
John walked away while telling me I didn’t understand the Bible. He walked around the corner of the building and out of sight.
Pride is Not Limited to the Wealthy
I can think of many well-to-do people I’ve met on the streets over the years who were arrogant and filled with pride. They looked down at the humility of Christ and turned their noses up in the face of one of His ambassadors.
However, pride is not limited to the rich. I’ve met many destitute people, men and women like John, who were every bit as proud and arrogant as the pagan socialite. Pride is as endemic throughout the entirety of the human race as sin itself.
“Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall” (Proverbs 16:18).
“For all that is in the world–the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride of life–is not from the Father but is from the world” (1 John 2:16).
John was filled with pride. He arrogantly believed He knew the Bible, cover-to-cover, while rejecting its contents. By creating a god in his imagination, John had fashioned for himself a god who was subservient to him–whose attributes and character were subject to John’s self-appointed authority. In his mind, John had blasphemously replaced the glorious, majestic, authoritative robe of Jesus Christ with the filthy leather jack of his self-righteousness. John was lost, dead in his sin and, at least for the moment, bound for hell.
I had to fight off the sorrow I felt for John as well as the sense of a failed evangelistic effort. I did beat it back by asking the Lord in prayer to save him. I reminded myself of what I’ve so often told others. “The only time we fail in evangelism, if we’re doing it biblically, is when we fail to evangelize.” And I reminded myself that John walked away with a copy of the Gospel of John, a gospel tract, my business card, and a gift card for lunch.
I prayed again, asking the Lord to allow him to read the materials I gave him and to be convinced of his sinful error and lost spiritual state as he enjoyed the lunch I had provided.
Several times as I typed this article, I lifted my eyes from my computer and looked in John’s direction. There he sat, staring out the window–staring, hopeless, purposeless, directionless, Christ-less. May the Lord save John, Soli Deo Gloria (for God’s glory alone).
In Jesus’ name.
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