Mallory Square-Monday’s Musings on Tuesday

I sat on the cement ground, mesmerized by the man. His tools were a giant, white writing pad and 4 large, almost-dried-up markers. He told the ‘old, old, story’ in a brand-new way. It was a perfect fit for the audience.

Next to him, a solidly-built, older gentleman walked a tight-rope as he conversed with a spell-bound crowd. In front of him, vendors of art, jewelry, and colored fabrics pedaled their wares to content tourists, warm with sun, some hot with alcohol.

As he spoke, adding marks to his picture, filling in shapes to make words, some laughed at him. Others passed within inches of him, trying to provoke a comment. Still others outwardly taunted and made faces while the ‘show’ of Mallory Square continued on.

The scene of the cross came to mind. Heads wagging. Sour wine offered. Gambling beneath as ‘the old, old, story’ played out. A precious treasure available as passerbys grapple for trinkets that will one day burn.

After he finished his presentation, I turned to my daughter Sarah and said, “He must find it extremely difficult to come out here week after week, sharing the gospel with people who don’t care or who make fun of him.” We agreed, teary-eyed.

Just then, a younger man joined the speaker and their conversation floated over the ocean breezes to us. “I know. I can’t believe that the Lord gives me the privilege of speaking His Word here each week! I sometimes have to pinch myself,” he informed the young man.

My heart lifted while my opinions melted. The ‘old, old, story,’ is new and exciting and, shucks, it’s even good news. The Good News. And this man knows it and cherishes it and is faithful to preach it for 25 years now in Mallory Square.

And everyone said, Amen.

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