My dad stood at the podium with sweat running down his face. The back of his shirt was soaking wet. He had preached with such fervency and power. I leaned into him soaking up every word. I was ten years of age, and I knew that I didn’t want anyone to go to that terrible place called hell that he was preaching about. He read the Scriptures about this place where the flames are never quenched and suffering never ends. He preached about the suffering of Lazarus in the earth; dogs licking his sores; and his begging for the crumbs that fell from the rich man’s table. Lazarus died, but he was carried by the angels into a place of peace. The rich man also died but lifted up his eyes in hell. He was in torment. He requested of Abraham that he would send Lazarus with a drop of water to cool his tongue. Abraham told him that was impossible. He then requested that Lazarus go to his family and testify of the horrible place called hell. The rich man was making his prayers known, but it was too late (Lk. 16:19-31).
I sat listening to the message which described the horrors of hell. My heart broke for those that were there at that moment. I must testify to others that they do not want to go to that place for all eternity. They must believe upon Jesus as their personal Savior. They must call upon His name, Jesus, and make Him Lord of their lives (Rom. 10:8-13).
The rich man requested that one go witness to his family. Jesus commanded us to “go into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature” (Mk. 16:15&16). He said that those who would believe the message of salvation would be saved, but to those who would not believe would be damned.
I knew that I could not make anyone believe upon Jesus, but I could share the gospel with others. This 10-year old girl went to the porch of her daddy’s church after he preached this sermon. I asked every person who exited those doors of the church if they had accepted Jesus as their Lord. One young man came through the doors. I asked him if he was a Christian. He told me that he was not. I began to weep over him, begging him to please not leave. I said, “You must accept Jesus in your heart.” He kept walking. I thought that my heart would break. Was he ever saved? I don’t know, but I know that I testified to him for his need for Jesus. I wonder how many in hell right now are praying for their lost family and friends. Do our hearts break for the lost? Do we care enough for the lost that we pray for them and share the story of Jesus with others? Let us pray, “Lord, let my heart break for the lost, in Jesus’ name. Let me be a witness to the world in obedience to You. Let me be an answer to hell’s prayers for the lost.”