Jack Malone: Philippines E-mail christchurch@hotmail.com
Cebu Philippines
Christ's Church of the Philippines
Culture…
When you think of the Philippines, many people think about the thrilla in
Manila where Muhammad Ali fought with Joe Frazier.
Or others remember Gen. Douglas Macarthur (we share the same birthday) when
he made the famous remark, THAT HE WOULD RETURN.
Others think of thousands of islands thrown out in the ocean, over seven
thousand of them in all.
After sending out this newsletter for the last six years, I want to take you
on a day in the lives of Jack and Irene Malone in Cebu, Philippines where we
have conducted hundreds of crusades and now over 600,000 people have prayed
the sinner’s prayer with us.
It is a Thursday morning and we always arise early - before six.
Just down the road is what they call the Mercado, or the Market.
It is elbow to elbow with hustle and bustle, get out of my way atmosphere.
Wait a minute…was that an American?
HEY JOE… little children run, take my hand and put it to their forehead and
bless me. Yes, to bless me.
Someone I don’t even know wants to bless me. YOU SEE, IT IS THEIR CULTURE TO
BLESS.
Straightway we push to the freshly slaughtered baboy, or pork. It isn’t a
pretty picture at all. Nothing, and I mean nothing, goes to waste with the
pig.
Then freshly cleaned manok, or chicken, my favorite food of all.
Next, candeen (goat), baka (beef). Oh my, the beef is harder than my
well-worn shoes and equally as tasty.
Then an array of freshly picked vegetables, and what a colorful arrangement
of fruits to chose from.
RICE, RICE and more RICE. Lord, no person in the Philippines lives one day
without RICE.
When I first arrived here, I was looking for the mashed potatoes. I am still
looking for them, like at my friends house in Florida on Thanksgiving Day.
Oh, how I miss butter. Then lift up your head, take a wonderful sniff.
Smell it yet?
Fresh baked bread coming out every four hours. Lord, deliver me from that
wonderful smell.
Then a little hand reaches out to this big American and says, “Please, Mr.
American, piece of bread for me, please?” Those big brown eyes will get you
every single time. It’s their culture.
On the way out, you pass the big Catholic church where thousands gather
every day. You see, they believe in God, and they are not ashamed of it at all. In
fact, they are very proud of it. They believe and love the Lord Jesus Christ, and He is their only hope and
way of salvation. He is their wonderful Jesus.
In front of our house, thousands upon thousands of loving Catholics march in
the hot heat of the day during their festival times. IT’S THEIR CULTURE.
Tonight, I will get on top of a big old truck and send music so loud and
lights so bright that you would have thought it was an earthquake.
Lining up thousands and then with all that I have left in me, I tell them
these precious words.
Tonight my friends, I have brought my very best friend with me. They are all
looking for another American, or my wife, or some celebrity. But to their amazement, I tell them that my best friend in the world is THE LORD JESUS CHRIST, and then shouting and hollering begins in approval.
Wow, that American knows and loves our Jesus.
I continue, “My friend Jesus forgives all sins, no matter what you have
done, He loves you and will never leave you”.
Now it is getting exciting because sinners want to come home.There was a prodigal son in the Bible. He had a sinned. He lost his money. He lost his dignity. He lost his hope. BUT HE LONGED TO COME HOME.
The color of my skin, my nationality, my education, nothing, absolutely
nothing, replaces the precious moving of the Holy Spirit. NOTHING…
The messenger has delivered his message, and now it is God’s time in the
Philippines. Far above my failures as a public speaker, the Holy Spirit
takes over.
Have you ever been there? A place when God decides to usurp human efforts
and reward us in spite of our frailties.
Just when we think we have the right formula, or prescription, God comes on
the scene. The Holy Spirit does what none of us in a thousand years could
possibly do.
He melts hearts, minds.
Standing, pressing ever closer to that truck, they come.
Billy Graham has thousands coming forward to the voices of thousands of
singers singing, JUST AS I AM.
It is a far cry from that here. Dust, or mud, or even worse, lay beneath the
feet of the people and now THEIR CULTURE COMES IN.
With tears I have often said, Jesus could have been a Filipino because Jesus
came to serve. You have never met a people who want to serve like the people
of the Philippines.
IT’S THEIR CULTURE…
Forgiveness, they need forgiveness.
Pride, oh no, it is completely set aside, because it is their time with King
Jesus. All of us, wet as can be, but especially me from sweat, we hug and men kiss
my cheek crying out aloud, thank you thank you, thank you sweet Jesus.
Our day is coming to an end now and the trucks are loading up. All the
lights are turned out. The loud sound system is completely silent now… oh
wait
A group of little boys and little girls shout out, “THANK YOU MR. AMERICAN.
Please come back again.”
Lying back on a broken down fence is a middle-aged man with his arm around
his wife and he explains, “Thank you sir, we love you.”
Or the overweight man who screamed as loud as he could, “Pastor Jack, it is
me, I really got saved six years ago when you first came here. I am still
saved, I am saved. It is real for sure, I can testify to God’s saving
grace.”
Their barangay captain, which is like a local mayor, thanks us as we pull
away and begs us to please come again.
IT’S THEIR CULTURE…. So that big ole truck pulls out and we use what rags we have to wipe the
lost drop of sweat and make the trip home.
So little Irene, barely 90 lbs, maybe five-foot tall barefoot, pulls out
some leftovers from our trip to the market that day.
Our efforts, blessed. Our labors, fruitful. Our work is finished for yet
another day, but then there is tomorrow.
I have not been home in over six years. I miss more than words will allow me
to express, my family, my friends, but I have come to the full realization
that it may not be that I will see any of them again till we meet in
heaven’s corridors.
So I have to make a confession. How I love the culture of these people.
It was just a simple woman that God gave to me as a mother. It was her
teaching, her love that prepared me for this journey that I am on to this
day.
How I long to see her and tell her that Jacky has made an end to his journey
and because of your love, your compassion, you gave to me a culture that
taught me that I should never look down on others just because they may be
poor.
If I don’t make it back to my wonderful country again, and my ashes are
spread across the Philippine Sea that I see and enjoy every single morning,
then I will see you again in glory.
Watch for me please. I will be the one standing around hundreds of thousands
of brown skinned people worshipping the Lord Jesus.
I will be there. Watch for me. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
Yours for Souls
P.J.
If you would like to donate to help us with our crusades, you can send
donations to paypal, cebujack@yahoo.com
Thank you so much.
Yours for Souls
Pastor Jack Malone
Cebu Philippines
Email Christschurch@hotmail.com
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