"Excuse me Sir, can I give you something to read - when you get a minute?"
With visible suspicion, he cocks head to look. "What is it?"
I hold the small tract, arm outstretched towards the man. He's half holding it, I'm half holding it.
"It's a gospel tract". The man stares down at the thin paper booklet, still holding it, but with a perplexed look on his face. He's not sure what a 'tract' is.
"A what?"
"A gospel tract - about Jesus Christ".
And there he goes. Practically running down the street. Without the tract.
There's power in the name of Jesus Christ.
And yet...
...if he'd quelled his initial fear and actually taken the tract, even if he read it and then straightaway binned it, dismissing it as rubbish, one day, when he has cause to give his eternal future some genuine consideration, he might remember the message of the cross, written on that scrap of printed paper.
Sadly, most folks harden their hearts to the gift of salvation. And off they go, running off a cliff.
How's about you?
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