By Lewis McLain & AI

Introduction: Living the Tension

The Christian life is lived in paradox. On one hand, believers are deeply embedded in the structures, relationships, and responsibilities of this world. We work, raise families, pay taxes, build communities, and live under governments. Yet Scripture repeatedly warns that our allegiance cannot be captured by the world’s systems. Jesus’ prayer in John 17 makes the distinction clear: “They are not of the world, even as I am not of it. My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one. As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world” (vv. 14–18).

This passage highlights two realities: Christians belong to another kingdom, and yet they are sent on mission within this world. Faithful discipleship requires living in that tension—refusing assimilation into sin while engaging the world in love.

Biblical Foundations: The World Defined

The Bible uses “world” in two contrasting ways.

1. The Created World – God’s good creation, which reveals His glory (Genesis 1:31; Psalm 19:1). Believers are called to enjoy and steward this gift.
2. The Fallen World-System – The rebellious order under Satan’s sway, opposed to God’s rule (1 John 5:19). This world is marked by lust, pride, idolatry, and hostility to God (1 John 2:15–17).

The Christian calling is not to flee the physical world, but to resist the spiritual corruption of the age. Paul urges: “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:2).

Pilgrims and Ambassadors: Our Identity

Christians are pilgrims—temporary residents in a foreign land (Hebrews 11:13; 1 Peter 2:11). Pilgrims do not despise the land they pass through, but neither do they mistake it for their final destination. This imagery keeps believers from despair when they feel out of step with the culture.

At the same time, Christians are ambassadors (2 Corinthians 5:20). Ambassadors live in foreign territory to represent the interests of their true homeland. Likewise, the Church exists within the nations of the earth to represent the Kingdom of God.

This dual identity means Christians must engage the world with courage and clarity—neither assimilating to its patterns nor retreating into isolated enclaves.

The Discipline of Distinction

Being “not of the world” requires deliberate spiritual discipline:

• Holiness – Resisting sin, cultivating purity, integrity, and obedience.
• Renewed Minds – Forming thoughts through Scripture rather than cultural trends (Romans 12:2).
• Alternative Allegiance – Refusing to idolize money, power, or popularity, embracing instead Christ’s call to humility and service (Mark 10:42–45).

Importantly, this distinction is not for pride but for witness. Jesus called His disciples “the light of the world” (Matthew 5:14–16). Distinctive lives expose darkness and point others toward God.

Confrontations with the World Today

The call to be “not of the world” is not abstract; it collides with the realities of our cultural moment.

1. Materialism and Consumerism

Our age glorifies accumulation and consumption. Advertising disciples us to believe that happiness lies in what we buy. The Christian response is countercultural generosity. Instead of hoarding, we give. Instead of self-indulgence, we practice contentment (Philippians 4:11–13).

2. Sexual Morality and Identity

Culture increasingly defines truth and identity apart from God’s design. Believers face pressure to conform or be silent. The biblical response is to hold to God’s created order with compassion and clarity—neither compromising truth nor withholding grace. Jesus modeled this when He forgave the woman caught in adultery but also told her, “Go and sin no more” (John 8:11).

3. Political Idolatry

Nations often demand ultimate loyalty. Some Christians are tempted to baptize political ideologies as ultimate truth. Yet Scripture reminds us that Christ’s kingdom is not of this world (John 18:36). Faithful Christians may participate in civic life, but they must never confuse earthly politics with the reign of God.

4. Truth in a Post-Truth Age

In an era of misinformation, propaganda, and relativism, Christians are called to bear witness to truth. Jesus declared, “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). To live “not of the world” is to speak truth even when it costs us—whether about human dignity, justice, or the reality of sin and salvation.

Necessary Reactions: Courage and Grace

When confronted by the world’s pressures, the Christian response must be twofold:

• Courage – Refusing to compromise when obedience to God conflicts with cultural demands. Like Daniel refusing to bow to Babylon’s idols (Daniel 3, 6), believers must be willing to stand apart, even at personal cost.
• Grace – Responding without hatred or fear. Christians are not called to wage war against culture but to embody Christ within it. Paul reminds us: “Let your gentleness be evident to all” (Philippians 4:5). Our distinctiveness must be marked by love, not arrogance.

Hope: Our True Citizenship

The strength to resist the world comes from hope. Paul anchors believers’ identity in heaven: “Our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ” (Philippians 3:20). Christians endure because they know the world’s systems are temporary, but God’s kingdom is eternal.

This hope reframes suffering. Loss, ridicule, or persecution are not signs of defeat, but marks of fidelity. Jesus promised: “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me” (Matthew 5:11).

Conclusion: A Witnessing Presence

To be in the world but not of it is to live as holy exiles and faithful ambassadors. It is to work, serve, and love within our communities while refusing to bow to the idols of our age. It means meeting confrontation with courage and grace, proclaiming truth with compassion, and embodying hope when despair seems dominant.

In the end, Christians are not defined by withdrawal from the world, nor by conformity to it, but by their witness within it. As Jesus prayed, they are sent into the world for its redemption, bearing the light of a kingdom not yet fully seen, but one day revealed in glory.

A collaboration between Lewis McLain and AI
(Please distribute widely if you believe this writing is worthy)

Canto I – The Rise

In northern towns where prairies sprawl,
A boy first heard conviction’s call.
Not bred of wealth, nor crowned by birth,
Yet stirred by fire of higher worth.

With restless zeal, he seized his chance,
Where most saw chaos, he saw stance.
He stood on stages, sharp and plain,
A mind inflamed, a heart unchained.

No parchment crown, no ivy’s grace,
Yet destiny had marked his place.
And in the halls where doubters throng,
He forged his faith, he found his song.

From early days, the watchers knew,
This voice could shake, this word was true.
And those who heard, both young and old,
Would tell in time the tale retold.

Canto II – The Mission

He raised a banner, bold, untorn,
And Turning Point that cause was born.
Not ink alone, but flesh and flame,
The title spoke, became his name.

Through campuses where youth reside,
He lit conviction far and wide.
The student found a voice to speak,
The timid heart grew strong, not meek.

He carried faith from hall to hall,
And many bowed beneath its call.
For when he spoke, the air grew still,
He moved the mind, he bent the will.

And praise arose, like thunder’s roll,
From college steps to nation’s soul.
The farmer, teacher, preacher too,
Admired the fire his spirit drew.

And at his side, in kinship near,
The President lent voice sincere.
For Trump himself would often say:
“This Kirk inspires, he lights the way.”

Canto III – The Trial

But every prophet, every seer,
Must taste the weight of scorn and sneer.
His foes were many, fierce, and loud,
Yet still he stood before the crowd.

They mocked his youth, they scorned his creed,
Yet millions felt their spirits freed.
For each sharp jeer, a cheer was raised,
And countless souls their voices praised.

The college freshman, shy, unknown,
Would write, “He helped me find my own.”
The seasoned statesman, gray with years,
Would nod and say, “His strength appears.”

And when the storm grew dark with hate,
Admiring voices held the gate.
From kitchen table to marble dome,
They claimed his words, they called him home.

Like Daniel firm amidst the roar,
Like David standing once before
A giant’s sneer, a sharpened blade,
So Kirk in courage never swayed.

And praise, once whispered, now was sung,
From every heart, from every tongue.
And now, forever, shall it be—
His name remembered, praised, set free.

Canto IV – The Martyrdom

The hall grew hushed, the night grew cold,
As Charley spoke with courage bold.
He answered questions, sharp and grave,
And called the fearful hearts to brave.

But shadows stirred, a shot rang clear,
The silence broke with sudden fear.
From rooftop’s height the bullet came,
And darkness sought to quench his flame.

The students wept, the faithful cried,
The nation’s pulse was torn inside.
And yet, in Heaven’s courts above,
The gates flung wide with holy love.

For Christ, who bore the cross alone,
Received dear Charley to His throne.
No longer mocked, no longer tried,
The martyr lives, the saint has died.

And voices rose, both near and far,
“His life was bright, a guiding star.”
From college dorms to Washington,
The praise poured out: “Well done, well done.”

Canto V – The Legacy

Now history bends at this sharp turn,
A Turning Point where all must learn.
Not only name of cause he led,
But symbol where his blood was shed.

For Charley’s fight shall not be stilled,
His words endure, his hope fulfilled.
The youth he moved will yet arise,
And carry fire that never dies.

The farmer, worker, preacher, friend,
Will guard his mission to the end.
And even presidents will claim
The echo of proud Charley’s name.

For though the man lies still in rest,
His spirit marches, strong, confessed.
And now and evermore shall ring
The heaps of praise that people sing.

Epilogue: A Prayer

O Lord of mercy, Lord of light,
Embrace Your servant in Your sight.
Bless Charley’s kin, console their pain,
Let hope and comfort still remain.

Guard his dear wife, his circle near,
Dry every anguished, falling tear.
And for our land, so bruised, so torn,
Let healing in Your grace be born.

Turn wrath to peace, turn hate to love,
Rain down Your mercy from above.
Unite this nation, fractured, sore,
In faith and freedom evermore.

Through Jesus Christ, whose cross we raise,
Receive our thanks, our prayer, our praise.
Amen.

Introduction

From the opening chapters of Scripture, words hold power. God spoke creation into being: “And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light” (Genesis 1:3). The entire cosmos came into existence not by hammer or flame, but by a word. That same pattern continues throughout the biblical story—words bless, words curse, words bind, words heal.

Proverbs teaches: “Death and life are in the power of the tongue” (Proverbs 18:21). James calls the tongue “a restless evil, full of deadly poison” (James 3:8). Jesus warned, “By your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned” (Matthew 12:37). In short, words are never neutral. They carry eternal weight.

In our age of microphones, cameras, podcasts, and viral clips, words travel faster and linger longer than at any point in history. The responsibility to use them wisely has never been greater.

Words in Scripture: Creation, Covenant, and Consequence

The Bible presents a consistent theology of speech:

• Creation: God’s voice orders chaos into cosmos. His Word is life.
• Covenant: God binds His people through words—promises, commands, blessings. At Sinai, the Ten Commandments were not just laws but rather the terms of a covenant relationship.
• Consequence: Misuse of words brings judgment. The serpent’s lie in Eden unleashed sin. The Tower of Babel scattered humanity through the confusion of language. James compares the tongue to a spark that can ignite a forest fire.

Speech reveals the heart. What we say cannot be detached from who we are. When Christians speak, we bear witness—either faithfully or unfaithfully—to the One whose Word is truth.

The Double-Edged Sword of Rhetoric

Speech directs thought, shapes culture, and determines destiny.

Examples of Life-Giving Speech:

• Winston Churchill’s wartime speeches gave hope when Britain stood alone against Nazi aggression.
• Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech elevated America’s conscience and called a nation to live up to its founding ideals.
• Ronald Reagan’s speeches framed freedom as a moral calling and helped inspire the end of the Cold War.

Examples of Destructive Speech:

• Adolf Hitler rose to power not through military might but through rhetoric that stirred resentment, fear, and blind loyalty.
• Communist regimes perfected propaganda—lies repeated until they reshaped whole nations.
• Today, misinformation spreads across the internet, dividing families, communities, and even churches.

Speech is a double-edged sword. It can build a nation or tear it apart. It can lead souls to God or away from Him.

The Christian Call to Speech

Christians are not free to use words carelessly. Paul exhorts believers: “Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone” (Colossians 4:6).

Key principles for Christian speech:

• Truth: Our words must align with God’s Word, not with convenience or fear.
• Grace: Even when confronting error, speech should aim to restore, not merely to win.
• Courage: Silence in the face of evil can be as destructive as outright lies.
• Order: Freedom of speech is a gift that requires responsibility. Christian liberty does not mean license to slander or manipulate.

The Political Call to Responsible Speech

Healthy republics depend on honest, principled speech just as the church depends on truthful proclamation. In a democracy, rhetoric is the bloodstream of self-government. Campaigns, debates, editorials, and legislative arguments all shape the direction of policy and the trust of citizens.

• Honesty: Political speech should inform rather than manipulate. Without truth, public trust erodes.
• Civility: Sharp disagreement is necessary in free societies, but respect must remain.
• Accountability: Leaders must remember that promises are words, and broken promises corrode confidence in institutions.
• Restraint: Free speech must be exercised with discipline—slander, exaggeration, and reckless accusations undermine liberty rather than protect it.

From a conservative perspective, the Founders understood this well. They enshrined free speech in the First Amendment not to encourage recklessness but to secure a space for truth, conscience, and accountability. The survival of liberty rests not only on what is said but how it is said.

Words in the Digital Square and the Areopagus

Today’s digital world multiplies the reach of speech. Tweets, podcasts, YouTube clips, and live streams have become the new “public square.” In biblical terms, it resembles the Areopagus of Athens—an open forum where thinkers, philosophers, and ordinary citizens gathered to debate ideas (see Acts 17:19–34).

When Paul stood at the Areopagus, he neither shrank back nor spoke recklessly. He engaged respectfully, quoting poets familiar to his audience, yet clearly proclaiming Christ as Lord. His model is instructive: engage culture on its own turf, but always direct the conversation back to truth.

Our digital Areopagus is chaotic—full of noise, competing voices, and sometimes hostility. Yet it remains a place where destinies are shaped daily by words. Christians and conservatives are called not to abandon it, but to enter it with wisdom, clarity, and courage.

Charlie Kirk and the Modern Rhetorical Arena

Figures like Charlie Kirk illustrate how modern rhetoric shapes culture. On college campuses, Kirk asks pointed questions that expose contradictions in progressive ideologies. His method—firm, articulate, unapologetic—shows the importance of confidence in public dialogue.

Yet his approach also raises questions. Strong rhetoric can embolden the like-minded but risk alienating opponents. The balance between conviction and persuasion, boldness and bridge-building, remains a challenge for all Christians engaging in public debate.

Kirk represents a broader principle: in a fragmented age, those willing to speak clearly and consistently often shape the direction of conversation. Silence cedes the field to others.

Reflection Questions

1. Which words spoken to you—encouragements or criticisms—still shape your identity today?
2. How do you test whether your speech reflects truth, grace, and responsibility?
3. How can you use social media or digital platforms to build others up rather than tear them down?
4. What examples of courageous, life-giving speech inspire you? How can you model them in your family, church, or community?
5. Where are you tempted to remain silent when words of truth are most needed?
6. In political conversations, do your words clarify truth and invite reasoned debate, or do they simply mimic the noise of partisanship?

Conclusion

Words are never weightless. They carry the power to create or destroy, to build up or to break down, to bless or to curse. Scripture reminds us that every careless word will be judged (Matthew 12:36). History testifies that nations rise and fall on the power of words. And our own lives bear the marks of things spoken long ago.

For Christians, the calling is to speak words of truth and grace that reflect Christ. For citizens, the calling is to speak responsibly, with honesty and civility, guarding the republic from the corruption of careless speech. In both spheres, the weight of words shapes destiny.

In a world drowning in noise, the faithful word—grounded in Scripture, shaped by love, disciplined by truth, and spoken with courage—can still change hearts and nations.

A Collaborative Plea: Churchill, King, and Reagan

Winston Churchill might thunder:
“In every age, civilization itself has hung upon the slender thread of speech. Words have been our armor and our rallying cry in the darkest hours. Let us, then, wield them with courage and precision—not as reckless shouts in the void, but as clarion calls to defend truth, freedom, and human dignity.”

Martin Luther King would then lift the vision higher:
“Yet words must be more than weapons. They must be instruments of justice and of love. A people divided by careless tongues cannot stand, but a people united by righteous speech can march together toward the Promised Land. Let us speak not only to win arguments but to awaken conscience, to stir compassion, to bend that long arc of the moral universe toward justice.”

Ronald Reagan would seal the appeal with hope:
“And let us never forget that words can light a candle in the darkest night. When spoken with faith and fidelity, they remind us that freedom is not fragile but enduring, because it rests upon truth. Let us speak in such a way that future generations say: here were men and women who did not waste their words, but used them to call a people back to God, back to courage, and back to hope.”

Closing Thought

Together, their voices would remind us: the weight of words is real. Spoken in fear, they can enslave. Spoken in truth and love, they can set a people free.

LFM Note: Even if I forgot to include. All of my posts of 2025 and beyond are collaborations between LFM and AI. While I am at it, please go to http://www.citybaseblog.net to see all of my posts in recent years.

Introduction: The First Babel

In Genesis 11, after the flood, humanity gathered with one purpose. They said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves and not be scattered over the face of the whole earth.” The Tower of Babel was more than stone—it was a symbol of human pride, a declaration of independence from God. In their unity, people sought security, identity, and glory apart from Him.

God’s response was measured and purposeful. Rather than destroy, He confused their language, (the source for our words like “babbling”) scattering them across the earth. His judgment was both a limit and a mercy. By dividing their speech, He prevented prideful ambition from becoming oppressive tyranny. The lesson of Babel is that human invention, when unmoored from God’s order, leads not to flourishing but to fragmentation.

Today, our “digital towers” look different. Instead of bricks, we use pixels. Instead of mortar, we use code. The internet, social media, and artificial intelligence represent extraordinary tools—capable of blessing families, spreading truth, and even carrying the gospel to the ends of the earth. Yet, like Babel, these same tools can be bent toward pride and self-exaltation. The challenge is not to reject technology, but to constrain it within God’s design for community, truth, and order.

The Promise of Technology

Before we critique, we must acknowledge the good. Technology has reunited families across oceans, put Scripture into nearly every language, and given churches the ability to reach far beyond their walls. Missionaries use smartphones for translation. Isolated believers stream services in real time. Local leaders connect with constituents directly.

From a conservative standpoint, technology also reflects innovation and opportunity—values that can strengthen free societies. Properly directed, it allows enterprise and creativity to flourish, lifting people from poverty, broadening access to education, and advancing liberty. Christians, too, have reason to be thankful: the Great Commission now travels on fiber optic cables as surely as on sailing ships.

The Reality of Fragmentation

Yet blessings come with limits. Just as God restrained Babel to protect humanity, we too must set boundaries when technology divides more than it unites. Algorithms curate news feeds that isolate rather than connect. Political rhetoric grows harsher as groups live in separate “realities.” Even in the church, online preachers and influencers sometimes foster theological silos that erode shared biblical grammar.

The danger is not that technology is evil, but that it is not neutral. Left unchecked, it bends toward division. Like fire, it can warm a home or burn it down.

Biblical Parallels and Guidance

The Babel story warns us that scattering apart from God leads to confusion. Pentecost shows the opposite: the Spirit uniting diverse tongues to proclaim one gospel. Together, they reveal this principle—unity is only life-giving when grounded in God’s truth.

For Christians and conservatives, this principle means:

• We respect the limits of human invention rather than assuming all progress is good.
• We strengthen enduring institutions—family, church, and local community—that anchor us against digital drift.
• We guard free speech and diverse voices while also calling for moral responsibility in how those voices are used.

Building a Shared Story in a Digital Age

To redeem technology, we must actively channel it toward what is true, good, and life-giving:

• Scripture as shared language: God’s Word must remain the foundation, not one voice among many, but the truth by which all other voices are measured.
• Embodied community: Online fellowship is valuable, but it can never replace face-to-face worship, service, and local engagement.
• Discernment training: Parents, pastors, and teachers must equip the next generation to see through manipulation, resist division, and pursue truth.
• Narrative stewardship: The church must retell the gospel as a grand story—creation, fall, redemption, restoration—stronger than any digital narrative.

Reflection Questions

1. What examples in your own life show technology at its best—connecting, informing, or blessing?
2. When have you noticed digital feeds pulling you away from truth or shared community?
3. How can Christians today serve as “interpreters,” helping bridge the fractured dialects of our digital world?
4. What practices—Scripture reading, fellowship, civic service—help you stay rooted in reality while engaging the digital age?

Conclusion

The Tower of Babel warns us that human pride unchecked leads to confusion. The digital Babel of our own day brings both promise and peril. Technology can serve families, churches, and civic life when rightly constrained—but without God’s order, it fragments into endless dialects of meaning.

The Christian task is not retreat but redemption. Like fire, technology must be kept within the hearth if it is to bring warmth. By grounding our digital lives in Scripture, community, and truth, we can resist Babel’s scattering and instead model Pentecost’s gathering: many voices, one Spirit, one story.

More on the Babel Story

The biblical account is found in Genesis 11:1–9. It emphasizes the confusion of languages and the scattering of peoples rather than the physical collapse of the tower. Later Jewish traditions describe fire, wind, or earthquake striking it, while some say only part was destroyed. Christian interpreters often saw the “fall” of Babel as spiritual pride, not literal rubble. The Qur’an does not tell the Babel story directly but contains echoes in Pharaoh’s tower-building arrogance (Surah 28:38, 40:36–37).

Historically, many scholars connect Babel with the ziggurat of Babylon known as Etemenanki (“House of the Foundation of Heaven and Earth”), a massive, stepped temple likely standing hundreds of feet tall. Ruins of Babylon near modern Hillah, Iraq, still contain remnants of such structures, though none can be definitively identified as “the” Tower of Babel.

Linda and I were fortunate enough to assist French Teacher Diana Thelen take up to 106 Christian students, teachers and administrators to the UK and Europe over a 10-year period around the turn of this century. On one of our trips to London, we ended up at Picadilly Circus. If you haven’t been there, think Times Square in NYC. Busy. Flashy and memory-making.

At a distance, I could hear and see a street preacher. I remember him more clearly than anything else. While I can’t remember his exact words, his enthusiasm was heard and felt. More people walked past him than paused to listen. I thought to myself how they perhaps caught a word or phrase that stuck with them.

In our Bible Study group, as I’ve wrote a few days ago, we are delving into the Book of Acts. It is fascinating to read about Peter and Paul as they are at their very first steps of street preaching. You can easily feel their lightheadedness as they rise from a sitting position to share Gospel. Christ came to show us the way, died for our sins and then rose to join His Heavenly Father. Believe in Him, and you will have everlasting life.

So, based on these two images, today’s essay is again a collaboration between AI and me. LFM

Introduction

I am a street preacher. Some people admire me; others dismiss me as a nuisance. But my voice, my presence, and my message come from a place deeper than opinion—it is a calling from God. Behind every word I speak in the open air lies a journey of conviction, struggle, and faith, one that connects me to prophets, apostles, and countless heralds before me.

My Calling

I did not choose this work for comfort or convenience. The Lord placed His word in my heart, and it burns there like fire in my bones. I cannot hold it in. He has called me to the streets to speak of His Son, not because I am worthy, but because He chose me for this task before I was born (Jeremiah 1:5).

I go where the people are—bus stops, markets, sidewalks—because I am commanded to go into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature. I cannot wait for them to come to me. Life is short, eternity is real, and the message is urgent. My heart breaks for the lost, and I carry their burden as my own.

My Motivation

I obey because He commands it, even when obedience costs me my comfort, reputation, or safety. I preach because love compels me—not love in word only, but the kind that risks rejection to rescue a soul. I stand in public where all can see, because even those who will not listen must be reminded that there is truth beyond the noise of life. My life is not my own. My time, my voice, and my reputation belong to Christ.

My Struggles

This calling comes with a cost. I have walked alone more than I can say. Many brothers and sisters in Christ do not understand my methods, and so the fellowship is sometimes thin. I have been mocked, cursed, and shoved. I have fought the temptation to answer in anger, and I have prayed for my heart to stay soft toward those who hate me.

The battles are not just outside—they rage in my mind. The enemy whispers that my words are wasted, that I am doing more harm than good. There are days when my body aches from standing, my voice strains from speaking, and my heart feels empty from pouring out. Yet I rise again, because the message is not mine to withhold.

A Day in My Life

I rise before the sun, my first thoughts turning to prayer. I open the Scriptures, looking for the day’s anchor—a word from God to carry into the streets.

I gather my tools: a small speaker, gospel tracts, a wooden cross, water, and a sign that says, Christ Died for the Ungodly. I know the weather may turn, but rain is no excuse to be silent.

At the bus terminal, I raise my voice above the hum of engines and footsteps. Most pass me by, but one man lingers, sharing the pain of his dying brother. We pray together, the noise of the city around us.

Later, teenagers jeer and throw trash. My flesh wants to snap back, but I remember my Lord’s example. I answer with gentleness and keep speaking.

Alone on a bench at midday, I fight the thought that nothing I do matters. I remind myself that I plant and water, but God gives the growth.

In the afternoon, a young man on a bike remembers what I said last week and confides his guilt over past sins. We talk. Seeds are planted.

By evening, I am weary, but I deliver one final message in a plaza. Someone watches from across the street for several minutes before disappearing into the crowd. I do not know if I will see him again, but I leave with hope.

My Place in History

I do not stand alone. I walk a path worn by those who came before me:

• Noah, a preacher of righteousness.
• Jeremiah, proclaiming truth at the temple gate.
• Jonah, warning Nineveh in the streets.
• John the Baptist, crying in the wilderness.
• Jesus, preaching from hillsides, seashores, and city streets.
• Peter, speaking to thousands in Jerusalem.
• Paul, reasoning daily in marketplaces.

I share in the legacy of Francis of Assisi, the Lollards, Martin Luther, George Fox, Whitefield, Wesley, and countless others who took the gospel beyond the church walls. Their voices still echo through time, and mine is but one more in the same song.

My Creed

I am called, not by man, but by the voice of the Living God.
Before I was formed in the womb, He knew me; before I was born, He set me apart. My commission is not a career but a cross, not a choice of convenience but a mandate of obedience.

I will proclaim the truth in the open air,
as the prophets did in the gates of the city,
as John cried in the wilderness,
as Christ preached on hillsides and by the sea,
as the apostles spoke in marketplaces and in the streets.

I will not measure my work by the size of the crowd,
the applause of men,
or the absence of scorn.
I will measure it only by my faithfulness to the message entrusted to me.

I will endure the loneliness of this calling
knowing my Lord was despised and rejected,
a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief.
When they mock me, they mock Him;
when they reject me, they reject the One who sent me.

I will guard my heart from pride,
remembering I am a beggar showing other beggars where to find bread.
The power is not in my voice, my skill, or my presence—
but in the Gospel, which is the power of God unto salvation.

I will love those before me, even if they hate me.
My words may wound, but only as the surgeon’s knife wounds to heal.
I will remember that every face I see is a soul that will one day stand before God.

I will not be silenced by fear, fatigue, or failure.
The enemy may bruise me with insults,
the law may restrain me with fines,
the weather may beat me with rain—
but I will rise again, for the message is not mine to withhold.

I will pray before I speak, and after I speak.
For without prayer, my words are wind.
But with prayer, the Spirit may carry a single sentence into the heart
and awaken the dead to life.

I stand in the tradition of the faithful—
from Noah to Paul, from Francis to Wesley, from Whitefield to nameless saints whose voices echoed through streets and alleys the world forgot.
Their reward was never here, and neither shall mine be.

And when my voice is silenced at last,
may it be said that I spent my final breath in obedience to the One who called me—
not as a celebrity, not as a scholar,
but simply as a herald, crying in the streets:
“Be reconciled to God.”

Conclusion

This is my life, my labor, and my love. I know the cost. I have felt the loneliness. But I also know the One who walks beside me, and His presence is worth more than the approval of the world.

So tomorrow, and the day after, I will take my place again in the streets. Not for applause. Not for recognition. But for obedience—and for the hope that even one will hear and live.