I prayed continually for a number of “hippies” who were standing around, about thirty yards away, shouting out loudly but not yet causing a disturbance.  I knew they could be a source of trouble later.  Up and down I went, giving out tracts of God’s Word, watching and praying for the noisy group.  The Lord showed me a spot to preach, right in the center of the city.  An oval shaped place with gardens, flowers in bloom and plenty of seating in the area.

The Lord helped me as I stood preaching His Word.  Half way through the message the hippies arrived in force and sat down on the ground to my right.

There were about a dozen of them, no teenagers but older men an women.  Some of them began to heckle, one shouted out, ‘Where is God then?’

I interrupted my preaching to remark, ‘I will tell you where God is in a minute,’ then continued preaching the Word.

As soon as a suitable opportunity presented itself, I pointed to the hippies and addressed the question, ‘This man want’s to know where God is.’ At once their attention focused on me.  I stared at them, ‘God is just a prayer away.’ Immediately the Lord gave me a Word and I started to tell them the story of the prodigal son, how he had demanded all his rights, “Give me my portion,” he had said. I told them how he had gone off and spent it all in riotous living ending up with the pigs, eating their food.  The hippies were listening in rapt attention.

‘Just like the devil to lure you into the gutter with the pigs,’ I knew the Word was going home.  I continued to tell them how the loving father looked each day for his lost son and how on that day when he saw him, he ran, threw his arms around him and wept.

It was while I was describing this scene that something wonderful happened. ‘The Father didn’t get angry with his son, he didn’t shout or beat him, he threw his arms around him and loved him.  His son was filthy, dirty, unkempt and evil smelling.  The father called for a feast, a ring for the son’s finger, new garments and sandals.’

It was during these words that one by one the tough men and women, tattoos  decorating their arms, got up and with their heads hanging down, slowly walked away.

I believe the Lord had touched their hearts.

Later, I spoke with an Italian couple.  The wife could  speak English fluently  but her husband couldn’t speak the language at all.

‘My husband is an open air  in Italy,’ she informed me.  ‘We’re on holiday for two weeks and have noticed something here in Bristol.’

‘What is that?’

We come here every day and we have notice that God sends a preacher of the Gospel to preach the Word every day in this same spot.’

I stood amazed.

As for God, His ways are perfect.