Day 138: Gas pump prayers

I'm not going to advocate everyone should do this. But I've found it's a great way at least to try to witness. You're parked next to someone you most likely don't know and will never see again. So why not just take two quick steps to say something -- anything -- about your faith?

Today was my third day in a row of doing this. (Yesterday, I didn't actually get gas, however. It was a stop-and-go gas pump prayer.) Today, I just needed half a tank to fill up, but I met a woman who was standing next to a large white Cadillac. She was about 50 years old, and she said I could pray for her.

So I did, praying that she would have a blessed evening on New Year's Eve. And when I finished praying, her head was still bowed. "And please bless him, too," she prayed. I thanked her for that and that I appreciated her prayer. She said the same. Then she drove off, and so did I. We went opposite directions.

Day 137: Cool

She was standing at the gas pump wearing a Kansas Jayhawk sweatshirt. I guess that's what I noticed most about her. That and she was short. She stood there squinting up at me through her glasses when I asked her my question.

She looked tired, but seemed to relax some when she understood what I wanted. It was like a big sigh went out of her. I got the impression it had been a long day. "Sure. That's cool," she replied. So I prayed for her there, that God would make Himself known to her in whatever it was she was doing that night.

Day 136: One earbud

I waited for him to finish washing the windows of his car, and then again during the slow process of waiting for his receipt to be spit out of the gas pump. He was a tall guy, dressed like he had just gotten off work. He had an earbud in one ear. I don't know what he was listening to. I pictured him as an architect or an advertising executive or someone else in one of those creative fields.

I still was filling my car with gas when he finally stepped toward his door. I asked him my question then, and he stopped. That familiar puzzled look crossed his face then. Behind his uplifted eyebrows I'm sure he was thinking how strange this was. But he said yes. Something caused him to say yes. I don't know what it was. Maybe he didn't want to offend me. Great!

So I prayed there for him as he was tidying up his receipt. He smiled a little then and thanked me.

Day 135: Movies

Mary and I went to the movies tonight. A rare thing. It's been a couple of years since the last one, but I had the day off from work and the kids were at a sleep-over at their grandparents' house, so why not?

The guy taking tickets was in his 20s. His nametag identified him as Allen C. After he told us to head down the hallway to our right, I asked if I could pray for him.

He didn't seem too surprised by this, and he said that I could. So I prayed there for him, that God would bless his work that evening. Allen C. didn't seem to actively take part in the prayer, at least as far as I could tell. He just had a little smile on his face when I looked up at him. So I just thanked him and walked down the hall.

Day 134: A hairnet

Today was the day we started potty-training Sam, our 2-year-old. Never an easy task. I was sent out to get pull-up diapers to assist with the effort, as well as some stickers as rewards for success. We've not yet had success.

So I was walking out of Walmart with my pull-ups and stickers when I saw a guy cleaning the windows on the little deli inside the store. He was a Walmart employee, a short, stocky guy wearing a hairnet. I stopped next to him to ask my question.

"Hu\h," he said, glancing at met out of the corner of his eye. He never really stopped wiping down the window. "Can I pray for you?" I asked again. He considered this for just a moment, still wiping, and then said briskly, "No." Then his back was full to me, and he was really wiping now. So I wished him a good night and left.

I prayed for him on my way home.

Day 133: Walking in the cold

It was after 10 p.m., after a day with all sorts of family, and I went out on my special mission. The grocery store was closed. The gas station was closed. The liquor store was closed. But I saw two guys walking down the street toward yet another gas station. Figuring they were as available as anybody, I pulled in ahead of them and walked up to them.

They were teenagers, headed for the convenience store, probably glad to be rid of school nights for a little while. One of them had a hint of pink hair. Their names were R.J. and Alex. When I asked to pray for them, one of them asked me why. So I told them, and this apparently satisfied them, because a second later I was praying for their safety and their warmth on a cold night.

Then they stuck out their hands, and we shook on it, chatted for a few seconds and parted. It was a pleasant meeting. There was no hint of suspicion on their part or even reluctance.

Day 132: Christmas Day

Merry Christmas.

I had to make a special trip today to find someone who was working on Christmas Day and who might need a prayer. Not much is open. But Kwik Shop was. A guy with a mustache and glasses, named Billy, was working the counter. He didn't have much to say when I noted he was working on Christmas. But he didn't hesitate to say I could pray for him. But, he said, I should be quick. He had customers.

So I was quick. I hope he had a good Christmas.

Day 131: Praying for Faith

We made it to Leeker's about 10 minutes before it closed. We'd just left our Christmas Eve service at church and were headed home to decorate Christmas cookies and send the kids down for bed. I bought some milk and some eggnog, and I asked the cashier if I could pray for her. After all, I said, tomorrow was Christmas.

She was young woman. Her badge said her name was Faith. That's a good name. But she was quite hesitant about me praying for her. "Right now?" she asked. No one else was in line. It was the two of us standing there. Finally she said OK, still reluctant. But I didn't give her another chance to back out. I just bowed my head and prayed for God's blessing on her at Christmas.

Day 130: A tough year

She was standing next to a gray car, watching the dollars add up as she filled up with gas. She had red hair and was about 50 years old. I stepped around the gas pump toward her. We were in Newton at the time, on our way to Dodge City. The woman looked at me.

"Can I pray for you?" I asked. She paused and then nodded. I could. So I prayed there for her as we stood there in the cold, cars sitting behind us waiting their turns. After I'd prayed that she would have a blessed Christmas, she looked at me.

"Thank you," she said. "I needed that this year." I asked her why. Her story for the year was sad. Her mother, her best friend and her nephew all died this year. She didn't say much more than that, and I could tell she really didn't want to. So I told her that I would keep praying for her. She thanked me.

Day 129: Christmas shopping

I was standing in line at a store that will go unnamed (not Walmart, I promise), where I had picked up some things for Mary. It was a long line, a busy store. The clerk was a young guy, with a scraggly beard and glasses.

He was friendly, and we chatted for a few moments. And then as he handed me my receipt, I asked if I could pray for him. He said sure.

"Right now? Real quick," I asked. His face changed then, and he paused. The line was long, it was three days to Christmas, a guy who looked like his boss was two registers down, and the only assurance the clerk had was me and my own scraggly face. His decision was made: "That would make me uncomfortable," he said.

So I told him I would pray for him later, and I left. I did pray for him after I reached my car.

Day 128: A youth pastor

One of Satan's greatest lies is that witnessing is useless. Satan tells us that people don't want to hear it, that it's a private matter, that you're not smart enough to talk about things of the faith. Mostly, he tells us we'll be rejected if we bring up our faith. But it's a lie.

I am convinced of this because after 128 days of this project, I've been surprised time and again how many people say yes to the basic notion of Christ -- even when some voice inside of me is telling me they'll say no.

Today, I stopped at a hotel that is on my way home from work, walking into the lobby of the Best Western and talking to the attendant who was working behind the desk. The first look on his face was one of surprise, then doubt, when I asked my question. But he said grudgingly that it would be OK. So I prayed there for him.

And he looked up and thanked me. He was a young man, about 30 years old. I told him "Merry Christmas" and started to walk away. But he stopped me. "What's your name?" he asked. I told him, and he asked what church I attended. We talked for a few moments then. Turns out he is a youth pastor at a Baptist church in Wichita. He apologized for his initial reaction to my question. "You just caught me off guard," he said.

That's a normal reaction, I told him, one I got a lot. The important thing is how one reacts in their heart later. He thanked me then and we shook hands.

"And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." Colossians 3:17

Day 127: Inspired

Sue Dysart was a grand lady of our church. She was full of energy and spunk. She died today, and it's a sad thing. Sad for everyone who knew her. But I know this about Sue: She wasn't afraid to share her faith. Bill tells stories about how she would walk up to anybody to ask how they were doing and to pray for them. So she inspires still.

I thought about Sue a lot today. I thought about her when I stepped around the gas pump to talk to a guy who looked like a normal, middle-aged, middle-class, average, bearded, tall guy. His wife or girlfriend still was in the car, so it was just the two of us there. I asked if I could pray for him, and a smile crossed his face. "Well, yeah," he said. And so we prayed. Then we shook hands. "God bless," he said.

Day 126: Four large pizzas

We had family over tonight, after the big children's Christmas program at church. This get-together necessitated pizza, so I found myself standing at the counter of Pizza Hut. A young man who works there used to be part of a high school Sunday School class that I helped with at one time.

He's an extremely talented musician, and we talked about his upcoming choices for college and the things he was working on. We also talked about his family. His is a big family but suffered a tragedy earlier this year when one sibling drowned in a pool. I didn't bring this up, but I did ask how the family was doing. His smiling face changed a little. "As well as can be expected," he said.

What else to say? So we prayed instead, me standing there holding four large pizzas and him beside me. We prayed for his future, and about the bright things God has planned for him.

Day 125: A young Catholic

He was sweeping the floor inside a McDonald's. He was young. Mary thought he looked about 12. But he had to be older than that to be working in the state of Kansas. So I'd guess he was 15 or 16, but baby-faced for sure.

That didn't matter. I walked over to him and asked if I could pray for him. He immediately agreed. It was close to closing time, and just a few customers were in the store. But we prayed right there. His head was bowed, his chin just above the top of his broom handle.

Later, he thanked me. I was surprised at his quick response to my question, and his willingness. He was very polite. So I asked him if he was a Christian. He kind of shrugged for a moment like he wasn't sure what to say, and then, "Well, I'm Catholic." I told him that counts, too.

Day 124: Get out!

I'd driven many times past the M. Bruenger truck terminal, where semi-trailers are stored and their drivers come and go. And many times I'd thought about driving in and talking to the guy in the little booth at the front. He's always there in the evenings, sitting in away from the cold, usually leaning back in a chair, watching TV.

Tonight I did. He was just as he always was when I pulled in, but I could see him watching me as I approached. Even before I got out of my car, I could see his eyes on me. They were suspicious eyes. But I hopped out, and he pulled open the old wood door of the hut. He just looked at me. He didn't say a word.

"Excuse me," I said. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I just thought I'd stop in to see if I could pray for you." His face contorted a little, and he rocked back in his chair. "Oh, get out of here, man," he said, shooing me away with his gloved hand. He was still staring at me intently: "The street's out there!"

I started to back away then. What else can a guy do? But then he said, "What do you want?" His hand was still on the door, poised to slam it shut. But he hadn't moved from his chair. "I just wanted to pray for you," I said, as politely as could be.

His eyes were ugly. "Make a U-turn and get out of here," he said.

So I left. Not exactly a U-turn. I just backed straight up. But the whole while, those eyes were watching me.

I've never had a response like that. But I knew it would come some day. On my way home, I rejoiced about it. During the past couple of weeks, I've felt God preparing me for moments like this one. He's sent me to 1 Peter for a reason. I'm blessed.

And I prayed for that guy as I drove. I don't believe there's any love for God in his heart. I don't know any Christian who would have reacted in the way he did. So I prayed that somehow God would use that moment for good -- for saving good.

Day 123: Restless

He was standing at the corner of the convenience store when I pulled in for gas. He was a guy about 35 years old with a goatee and wearing a big black jacket. And he was talking excitedly on the phone. It was a happy excitement though. I couldn't help but pick up tidbits of the conversation. He used a lot of slang and was talking to a brother that he loved -- or at least someone he called his brother. And he was pacing back and forth. Maybe it was to stay warm, but I think it was just in his nature. He seemed to have a restless energy to him.

I'm pretty sure he was waiting for someone to come pick him up. I just bided my time while I pumped gas. And then I walked over to him. He greeted me with a smile, and I asked him my question. His eyes lit up a little, and then I explained that there wasn't any reason in particular that I wanted to pray for him -- that this was just something I wanted to do for him on the spot.

"That's really interesting," he said, seeming genuinely impressed by the offer. "Absolutely, you can say a prayer for me." Then he stuck out his hand, and I took it, praying for God to be near him and to bless him. It was the first time I remember someone doing that -- sticking out a hand for a close prayer.

When I finished, he looked at me and thanked me. "You're a really good dude," he said. "That was really good of you."

After four months ...

I've been reading recently in 1 Peter. The church was being persecuted and Peter was urging them to stand firm in their faith. They even were to rejoice in their sufferings. "If you are insulted because of the name of Christ, you are blessed, for the Spirit of glory and of God rests on you." 1 Peter 4:14

I've been drawn to this because it's clear that these Christians of the early church were different from the people around them. The Bible tells us they first were called Christians at Antioch -- rather than calling themselves Christians -- indicating people outside their group noticed a difference in them.

I want to be different from the world. And when it comes to suffering for Christ, and the blessing Peter says we'll receive if we do so, I don't want to run from it. But I've not suffered for Christ, not that I can think of. I've not been insulted.

I had a great conversation a couple of weeks ago with the brother of a wonderful couple in our church. He's a believer and feels strongly in Christian witness. He's put pamphlets on car windows outside of bars and talked directly to people about his faith.

He says there can come insult from that. He says one of his friends once was spit on after sharing his faith, and that he rejoices because of it. But this brother I met says he'll never forget coming out of a bar during his Navy days and running into two Christians who asked him about his faith. He argued with them, calling the Bible bunk.

But it changed his life. Months later, their words stuck with him and he investigated the faith. He accepted Jesus into his life on board his ship. How awesome is that! It reaffirms to me how God can use the little things I'm doing. It also emboldens me to do more, even in tough situations against a potentially skeptical crowd. I can rejoice no matter how they respond. And God can do the rest.

Day 122: Just fine

It's a plain hotel. It's maybe getting a little tired. Only half of the Days Inn sign out front lights up. I stopped there because it was on my way home. I'll probably stop at a lot of the businesses on my way home during the next eight months. It's been too cold to walk around outside downtown.

There didn't seem to be much life at the hotel, and for a moment I wondered if it was even open. But when I pulled through little carport, I could see a handful of cars in the parking lot, most of them pickups. As I was getting out of my car, I thought I saw someone move past the window in the lobby. The clerk, probably.

She was standing behind the counter when I walked in. No one else was in sight. She was about 20 years old. I'm not sure what her nationality was. I asked if she was in charge for the night, and she said she was, asking if she could help me. She wasn't unfriendly. Just not outgoing.

I told her I wanted to pray for her. At this, she stiffened a little. "I guess you can," she said reluctantly. But when I asked her if I could pray for her right there, she balked. "I'm fine," she said. Not exactly definitive. "Does that mean you don't want me to pray for you?" I asked. "No, I'm fine," she said again.

It was a good enough answer for me. So I thanked her and left. I did pray for her anyway as I was driving home.

Day 121: Counting cash

The convenience store was empty except for the clerk, a woman with red hair about 50 years old. Her back was to me when I came in the door. She was counting a small pile of bills on the counter. I stood there for a moment before she noticed me.

She smiled warmly at my question. "Absolutely you can." There wasn't any hesitation, just warmth. So I prayed for her in her work and for her safety. I reached to shake her hand afterward, and she took it, placing her other hand on top. "Thank you, darlin'. God bless."

The whole encounter lasted maybe a minute. When I got back to my car, the same song was playing on the radio as when I left to go inside. But that short moment made my whole day.

Day 120: A trucker

I pulled in next to the semi-truck and looked up at the window. It was dark, but I could see enough to tell someone was sitting in the cab. We were in the parking lot of the Leeker's grocery store in Park City. I don't know why he was there. His truck said he was part of the Kustom Karriers. I forgot to look to see where he was from.

But I knew enough to get out of my car and walk up to the truck. After a moment, the window slowly rolled down, and a round, bearded face was peering down at me, blankly. The driver had a headset on, so I asked if he was on the phone. Over the roar of his truck, he said he wasn't.

That was good, because I told him I wanted to pray for him. The face pulled back slightly. "Why?" he asked.

"Because I just like to pray for someone every day." It was my standard response, and it was followed by the standard long pause. Then he said OK. But his face told me he didn't really want to say that. He really wanted me to leave him alone.

So I told him I wanted to pray for him right then. Again, he really wanted me to go away. "Well," he said, "I'm fixin' to pull out."

"That's OK. I'll be quick." And so I prayed for his safety.

In retrospect, I probably was on the border of being pushy. Maybe I should have just thanked him and left him alone. But afterward, the round face in the window nodded, probably pleased that the prayer was indeed short. So I thanked him then and left.

Day 119: Santa hat

From a distance, the gas station appeared empty. It wasn't one I normally frequent, but I was drawn to it by the simple fact it was open. On Sunday nights, sometimes I worry about that. But there was a clerk there, and when I jumped out of my car to go inside, I discovered there was a customer, too.

She was leaning against the front counter, going over what I thought at first was a lottery ticket. The woman, about 40, was wearing a black leather jacket and a Santa's hat. 'Tis the season. But when I walked up to the counter, the woman backed away, letting me through. It wasn't a lottery ticket after all, just a bunch of numbers scrawled on a piece of paper. A credit card number? A phone number?

So I really had no idea what was going on there. The woman continued to study her paper while I paid the $1.06 for a bag of M&Ms. I looked at the clerk when he handed me my change. He was about 50 years old with a beard.

"Can I pray for you?" I asked. I tapped the woman on the shoulder -- "And for you, too?"

This brought a different light to the scenario. The clerk said yes, and the woman turned to me and smiled a frustrated smile. "Sure," she said, "I can take all the prayers I can get. I can't even read my own handwriting." I decided in the end it was a credit card number, and that she probably was staying at one of the nearby hotels. I have no idea, of course, whether I'm right.

But I did pray for them both, that they would have a blessed evening.

Day 118: Worn out

The clerk said she had three minutes left on her shift, and by the looks of her, she was ready to go. Little Anna was with me. We had just one item to buy, and we wondered for a time whether we'd made the wrong decision getting into that particular check-out lane at Walmart. Just two people in front of us, but it was slow-going.

The clerk was a 50-something woman with blond hair and a tired face. When we reached her, she said she was ready to go home, almost groaning those words. But she wasn't unfriendly. She was just worn out. So after she handed me my receipt, and even as a woman began plopping items onto the conveyor belt behind me, I asked her if I could pray for her.

I tried to do this discretely, leaning over the little counter where she could hear me. But she still asked me again what I said, just to make sure. Her face was uncertain at first, even as she nodded that I could. So I prayed that she would have a good rest of her day, and a great evening.

She smiled then for the first time. "Thank you," she said, "I needed that. I really needed that." I told her that it was no problem, that we all needed prayer. And as we walked off, she turned toward us again, thanking us another time and giving a little wave to Anna.

Day 117: The interrogation

I took a little detour on the way home tonight. Thinking about this project, I jumped off the interstate to drive through a little industrial park. I don't know what I was expecting, but when I passed the FedEx semi-truck and looked up into the eyes of its driver as I cruised by, I knew I'd found my man.

I turned around and pulled up alongside him. The street was empty, and he rolled down his window to talk to me. I got right to the point. "I was just wondering if I could pray for you?" I asked.

He was probably 60 years old, with a balding head and a bushy white mustache. The circumstances might have caught him off guard, I suppose. I'm sure he doesn't have too many people purposefully turn around and stop their cars in order to talk to him. And the question was pretty much wildly out of the blue.

So we talked it over. "What are you all about?" he asked.

"I just like to pray for people," I said. "It's kind of my thing."

"But that sure is an odd question."

"Believe me," I said, looking straight up at him, "I know it is."

He seemed to understand this, but he wasn't convinced. He wanted to know more about me. A lot more.

"Do you work around here?" he asked.

I told him I worked in Wichita. This wasn't good enough for him. He asked what company I worked for, so I told him. He asked what my name was, so I told him. "And if I were to go down there on Monday and ask for you, you would be there?" he asked.

"Absolutely," I said, "I'll even give you my card." I pulled my wallet out to do so, but we kept talking.

He asked me what church I attended, and I told him. He seemed genuinely interested that.

Then it was my turn. I asked where he lived. He said Goessel. Well, I once knew a guy from Goessel, and I threw his name out. My new truck-driving friend knew him. So we made a connection.

A few moments later, I stepped back. "Well, I had just wanted to pray for you, but if you're not comfortable with that, I won't. I'll just take off."

He stopped me then. He told me I could pray for him. He even shut down his rig, bringing quiet to the street. So I prayed quickly, as I promised I would, asking for God's protection and blessing. Then I held up my hand to shake his, and he reached down and took it.

"Have a good Christmas," he said.

On my way home, I saw one of the most beautiful sunsets I'd ever seen.

Day 116: Meekness

It was almost closing time, something like 9:55 p.m. After a moment's hesitation, I walked into the grocery store. I was looking for the manager and saw him immediately, standing at a register and checking out a woman who had paid with cash. I could hear the coins as he passed the change to her. There also was a young employee there, ready to carry the woman's groceries to her car. She didn't have much.

It made the scene a little uncomfortable, because both the woman and the bagger were standing there when I asked my question. The woman was fiddling as she put her change away, and the bagger was just waiting. But I'd decided I would be bold. I didn't care if I had an audience.

The manager was a guy I knew well, but only by sight. He seemed always to be in the store -- a guy about 60 years old and bald on top. He just looked at me after I asked my question, and then said that I could pray for him. So I did , asking for God's blessing on the man as he finished out his night at work. Then he thanked me and wished me a good night, and I left.

One more thing of note about this encounter. I'd read something a few days ago about evangelism and asking to pray for people. It was on a website dedicated to evangelism. The counsel was this: Be careful about asking to pray for people because you can come across as self-righteous and condescending. I'd never thought of that before, and certainly I've never felt superior to anyone I've prayed for.

But that thought was in my mind as I asked to pray for the manager. So I tried to be as meek as possible. In the end, he let me pray for him -- just as dozens of people have in the past. And I felt like a goof. In my effort to be meek, and offer up no air of superiority, I think I just came across as weird. So much for that.

Day 115: A willingness

I was thinking today about being bold. Was I willing to talk to anyone -- anyone -- whom I believe God is pointing me to? I knew the answer was no. There still was too much fear in some cases. But that's the ultimate test of someone who wants to witness wholeheartedly for God. You have to be willing to move no matter where God tells you to go.

I'm not there yet. So that was on my mind when I entered Spangles. It was a late night at work, and Mary assured me there was no food in the house. There were a bunch of large pickup trucks in the parking lot, and I thought about praying for farmers or hunters or other large, burly, tobacco-chewing and cowboy hat-wearing guys. Not just one guy. But several of them -- at once. I was thinking about just approaching a group of them, not knowing what their response would be.

That's not what I did. Instead, the woman behind the counter handed me my food. I was No. 127. And I stopped her. "I know you're busy," I said, "but can I pray for you?" She smiled and said yes.

Day 114: By the book

I saw the police officer filling up with gas as I was driving by, so I made a hard right into the station and drove over to him. He was just getting ready to head inside the store as I approached, so I rolled down my window and asked him to wait as I pulled into the stall next to him.
Once I was out of my car, I asked him my question. His answer surprised me.

“You can do whatever you want,” he said. He was probably 40 years old, a regular looking guy aside from the Park City Police uniform.

“So you don’t mind if I pray for you right here, really quickly?”

“Well,” he said, taking this in. “We don’t get mixed up with people’s religious activities while we’re on duty. But you can do whatever you want.”

I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. What I wanted was to say a prayer for him in that moment, but he was starting to back away. So I tried once more. “Can I just say a quick prayer for you now?”

The answer was repetitive. “You can do whatever you want.” And then he turned away.

This whole exchange was friendly, if not particularly comfortable for either one of us. Apparently, not everyone in the Park City Police Department interprets the rules the same. But all I could do was pray for him, which I did as I drove home, asking God to protect him. For all I know, the guy’s a good Christian. He’s just a little legalistic.

Day 113: Into the dark

God put me in the right place today. I feel that in my bones. On my way home, I was hoping for a good opportunity to witness to someone. But I struggled -- either lacking the courage or the chance. I was close to home when I passed a car headed for the interstate. Behind me, I could see it suddenly turn on its hazard lights and move toward the side of the road.

I stopped. Well, why not? So I turned around and drove back. When I got to the car, I could see a man -- or maybe it was a boy? -- up ahead and walking away, along the shoulder of the road and into the dark. But the lights still were on in the car, so I stopped there and rolled down my window. It took a moment to get any response. And then the glass across from me rolled down, and I could see a woman sitting there at the wheel. 

She was 30 year old or so, and I asked her if she needed any help. "No, we're fine. Thanks." She looked back ahead. I could hear her engine running then. "Are you broken down?" She responded again. No, they were just fine thanks. She looked forward again. So did I. Whoever he was, he still was walking away. It was about that time it dawned on me what was happening. They really weren't broken down.

So I leaned over even farther, checking the rear-view mirror as I did. I was in the middle of the street, but no one was coming. I looked at the woman. Our cars were about 10 feet apart, so I spoke clearly to make sure she could hear me: "Well now that I've got your attention, can I ask you a question?" 

"Sure," she said. "Can I say a prayer for you?" Her answer was immediate. "Absolutely." So I prayed then for her in that dark evening that God would reach out His loving arms and be near her. She thanked me. I asked if she had any prayer requests, and she said no. There was nothing left to do but drive away then.

In my mirror behind me, I could see her slowly pulling forward, going after that figure that was disappearing into the dark. I guess I'll never know what happened next -- whether they reconciled, whether he got back into the car or whether it just didn't go well. But I prayed that the Holy Spirit would awaken them both.

Day 112: 'No more free coffee'

That was the sign taped just above the 16-ounce cups at the new Kwik Shop. I was slightly deflated. So the honeymoon was over. But I poured some anyway and walked to the front counter.

The clerk was a short young woman named Lita. I had a moment of hesitation, because I'd prayed for someone here before -- also a short young woman -- and there was a chance it was this same person. Not that that's a problem. But I really was hoping to finish this project by praying for a different person every day.

So I just asked her: "Have I prayed for you before?" Kind of out of the blue, I know, and she got this puzzled look on her face, smiling a little. "No," she replied. Good, I told her, because I wanted to pray for her then. She agreed, and I did -- just a simple prayer for God's blessing on a good night at work.

She thanked me and I left, non-free coffee in hand.

Day 111: 'I'm good'

He was emptying trash cans outside Kwik Shop, a young guy with a goatee, glasses and a ball cap. A cigarette was hanging out of his mouth. He was moving quickly because it was cold. I'd just filled up with gas, and so I walked into the store, stopping just outside the door next to him to ask him my question. He didn't stop working, and it was hard at first to understand his response. But his facial expression changed almost instantly so I knew what he was trying to say. This guy wasn't a believer. 

It's hard to explain the feeling, but I knew in my bones this guy wanted nothing to do with me or the message. As he was reaching down to pick up the big black trash bag on the sidewalk in front of him, I thought I heard the response I expected. "Is that a no?" I asked, to clarify. He looked me in the eye just then for the first time. "Yeah. I'm good," he said, and he was already moving by me to the next trash can. So I went into the store.

I thought a lot about his response on the way home. Maybe I read him wrong? But I feel confident I didn't. I also felt unable to control the urge to pray for him anyway, even though he declared he didn't need a prayer. The radio station was playing Christmas music, and I thought of how beautiful this time of year is, and how sad it is for those who take no part in recognizing why we celebrate. So I prayed that God would put someone else -- many other people -- in this guy's path to bring his attention to God. Maybe someday his heart will soften.

Ironically, I ran into two other people today who I've prayed for. Immediately after walking into Kwik Shop, I grabbed some gum (for Sam) and walked to the counter, where I recognized the clerk as someone  who I'd prayed for a couple weeks ago. She was friendly. And earlier, we stopped at Sonic, where the young woman who brought us our food was the same that I'd seen stalled out in the middle of the street about a week ago. I asked her about her car. A broken axle. She can't afford the $800 bill. So we'll keep praying for her.

Day 110: Applebee’s

I was there to pick up food. But I had determined I was going to pray for whoever it was that walked out the door to bring it to me. She was young, probably 20 years old, working the cars that were pulling up to the pick-up door.

She said it hadn’t been too busy for a Friday night. It had been much busier the night before, when the restaurant offers it special deals on kids’ meals. When she handed me my receipt, I asked her my question. She was hesitant. “You can if you want to,” she said. Well, I wanted to. So I bowed my head and prayed.

Because I was sitting in my car, and she was standing over me, I couldn’t quite see her reaction. But I pray that she took it well, and that whatever her position is toward God, that she will be drawn even closer to Him. Meanwhile, I drove home, trying to keep the small container of spinach artichoke dip from falling onto the floor of my car – and wondering how they came up with such a thing.

Day 109: Absolutely

I went out tonight kind of late to find someone to pray for. I’d passed up at least two opportunities already today and was determined to be aggressive.

I wound up at a gas station I don’t normally frequent. It’s kind of out of the way. But there was a guy there, hovering over the gas nozzle, carefully topping off his car as his head was tilted back toward the pump, counting the pennies as they added up.

He was about done, so I pulled in quickly beside him. He looked like your average guy with jeans and beard. He wasn’t tall, but he was stocky. He wore glasses. I got his attention as he was moving around to get into his car.

He turned and walked over to me, and I asked, “Can I pray for you?” He didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely?” So I did, praying for him in whatever he was doing that evening and in whatever his work was. When I looked up, I saw that his head was bowed with his hands were clasped in front of him.

Then he looked me in the eye and shook my hand. “I need all of those I can get,” he said. He smiled a friendly smile, and then he left. It was a good moment and one I was thankful for.

As his car disappeared into the neighborhood across the street, I walked around the other side of the pump and grabbed the gas nozzle. Then I saw the tape, and groaned. “Prepay only.” No place to put a credit card. That’s why my friend was carefully topping off his tank. For me, it was too much work for that late at night. So I left. I didn’t really need gas anyway.

Day 108: Cops

I think I have new ministry in the works: Praying for police officers. I suppose it's better to meet them on our own terms than theirs.

I found the Park City police officer getting into his car at the Quik Trip. Actually, there were two of them there. One police cruiser was from Kechi and the other from Park City. The one from Kechi drove off as I walked up, and I barely caught the other.

The officer had one foot in his car, looking over his door, when I got his attention and asked if I could pray for him. He said yes immediately. He was tall and very young. And he shook my hand afterward, thanking me. He truly seemed grateful.

Police offers need prayer. The thing I've found is they also seem to know it. That puts them one step ahead of a lot of us.

Day 107: Hospitality

I found myself at the Hyatt Regency in Wichita. Our company hosted an event there, and I walked the halls afterward seeing who I would find. A few guests were sitting around the large lobby, and the bar seemed to be busy. I could see a basketball game on the big screen.

At first, there was no one available to talk to. Everyone was in some conversation, and the hotel staff were busy doing their jobs. So I just stood in front of the revolving doors and waited. Then, not wanting to look predatory, I took out my cell phone. There wasn’t anyone to call. And our phone isn’t a smart phone. Lacking any real task or activity, I got creative: I scrolled through the contacts file. There are a lot of names in there!

A couple minutes later – after several rounds of guests had walked into the hotel, chatting happily – a hotel employee passed by and noticed me standing there. “How are you doing?” he asked. He was friendly, a young guy probably in his first job, dressed all in black. “Great,” I said. “Can I ask you a question?”

He stepped over beside me. “Sure,” he said. Everything about him was polite, clean cut, very responsive – everything you’d want in a hospitality employee. He clasped his hands in front of him as he listened to me.

“Can I pray for you?” I asked. Here again, he was responsive, and he immediately said yes. I clarified, telling him I wanted to say a quick prayer for him right there. Again, he agreed. So I prayed.

Afterward, he thanked me. “I’m a Christian, and I really appreciated you doing that,” he said. “I’ve accepted Jesus into my heart. It’s something I did when I was 12 years old.” That’s how old I was when I was baptized, and I told him that. He thanked me then again, and asked where I was from.

Our conversation ended shortly afterward. As I drove home, I was glad I’d found him. I was glad to find someone who openly professed his faith. He just outright said what he believed, and I know I’ve not always done that.

Day 106: Gasoline and patience

He was standing next to his tanker truck as gasoline flowed from it into the underground storage tanks at the gas station. There apparently was nothing to do but wait, and he stood there looking down at his cell phone underneath the large lettering on the side of his truck: M.J. Murphy Oil Co.

He was an older guy, short and stocky. I parked my car and walked up to him, asking him my question. "Huh?" he said, tilting his head and leaning toward me. I then was staring at what must have been his good ear. "Can I pray for you?" I said, a little louder.

"Sure, you can pray for me," he said. His was a voice that carried, probably because he couldn't hear much. We bowed our heads, and I prayed a short prayer for his safety. "Amen," I said, shaking his hand. He smiled, and we chatted for a little bit. It had been a busy day, sort of. His job is to drive back and forth to the Frontier refinery in El Dorado. Once there, he gets in a line of other trucks waiting for loads of gasoline. He waited for an hour and a half on the first run, an hour and 45 minutes on the next one and two hours on the next.

Only three deliveries that day, which is unusual. And a lot of waiting around. I didn't get to ask him what he does while he's sitting there. But he did say his heater was working in his cab. A few moments later, I left him there, standing by his truck, waiting yet again.

Day 105: Stray french fries

I bumped into a young woman working at McDonald's. She was sweeping the floor, and I was holding a cup of coffee. She was diligent about her work, sweeping under all the tables, bringing out all the dropped french fries and straw wrappers and napkins of the day. She missed nothing.

I asked if I could pray for her, and she paused. She was young -- she told me later she was in high school. I filled the silence after my question by admitting it likely seemed a weird question. She didn't disagree but said it would be OK if I prayed for her. However, she cautioned, "Only if it's a good prayer." I smiled at that. Yes, I said, it most definitely would be a good prayer. She smiled, too.

She kept sweeping during this time, but not with the same focus as before. When I told her I wanted to pray for her right then, a very short prayer, she frowned. "I don't really know how to pray," she said. I think she misunderstood me, so I clarified that I would pray for her. She didn't have to do anything. And so I prayed for her right there. She seemed to appreciate it, in a puzzled sort of way.

When I walked out of that store, I had quite a bit of regret. She didn't know how to pray. That's a sad statement. I could have done more for her, I think. I could have asked her more questions, about what her faith life is like and whether she had accepted Christ.

But at the same time, I think also that perhaps I'm just a piece of God's plan. We don't have to do it all when we reach out to others. We don't have to find them, convert them, get them baptized and help them grow their relationship with God to maturity. That's a daunting task that can scare us out of even trying to evangelize. But we can do a portion of that, and we can trust God to find others to do the rest. Personally, although I would love to witness someone's conversion, I can be satisfied with just finding people and planting seeds.

So with this McDonald's employee, maybe somebody will come along who's much more qualified than me who can lead her into that relationship. On my way home, I prayed that will be the case.

Day 104: Running shoes

It wasn't an everyday experience. I went shopping today with my brother and sister. Going shopping is rare enough. With my brother and sister, it's close to unprecedented. It was just the three of us, but it was nice to spend time with them. Not that it took long. We went to just one store, with one item in mind, and with about an hour's worth of time.

I needed some new shoes. The soles of mine are starting to fall off. It's one of those things with shoes: You think they're fine, but then you look down one day and notice there's not much of them left.

We went to Sports Authority. The place was almost closed for the night. We were pretty much the only shoppers there. The employees probably were relieved, especially after Black Friday. That's where I found someone to pray for.

He was a tall blonde guy, highly athletic-looking and maybe 25 years old at the most. A sharp contrast from me, who probably doesn't belong in a sporting goods store. He was working on some stuff in the golf section, a vast expanse of clubs and other items, empty of people. So that was good.

I asked if I could pray for him. He looked at me a little strange, uncomfortable with the question, but determined to play it cool. "Pray for me? Why." I was honest: "It's just something I like to do for someone every day, and today, you're it." He smiled and kept putting things on the shelves. "Why am I it?" he asked. Again, I had to be honest: "Because I'm about to go home and you're probably the last person I'm going to see today." (I was basically admitting he was picked by default. Not exactly divine selection ... unless it is.)

But he smiled again at this and said it would be OK. So I just bowed my head and prayed. I noticed he stopped working for those few seconds. It was a short prayer. Later we chatted a little bit about the busy shopping season. Yesterday, he was at work at 4:30 a.m. in time to open the doors at 5 a.m. A line of about 100 people were at the door then. I was glad I had been sleeping.

Day 103: The deputy

Tonight was a struggle. I didn't step out of the house today until late. We'd had Thanksgiving here with Mary's family, so there was no reason to go anywhere. But the project called, so I was hoping quickly to find someone to speak to -- and then go home. Not the right attitude, I know.

Maybe that's why it was so difficult. God might have been teaching me a lesson. With nowhere that I really needed to go, I went to my normal places when such times arise. But there weren't that many people at QuikTrip, and the guy I had planned to pray for drove off as I pulled up to the pump.

Walmart was reasonably busy, but I didn't feel like a good opportunity came up. The clerk was way too busy to pray for. It still was Black Friday after all.

Finally, discouraged, I pulled into the Kwik Shop in Valley Center. I believe now it was part of God's plan because the timing couldn't have been any more perfect. The Sedgwick County Sheriff's deputy was walking out of the store as I pulled up. I swung into the stall next to his and called out to him over the top of my mini-van.

Now the fact that he was a cop was important to me because police officers have been on my mind for for the past week. I don't know why, other than that I've seen a lot of them recently, many of them in positions where they would be available for a prayer. But I had passed up every opportunity.

When the deputy heard me calling out to him, he stopped and waited for me to come around the van. He was about 35, not a tall man but bulky. Cops probably are always like this: A tense look on his face until he figures out what you're up to. Deputy Delgado was like that. But once he understood I wanted to pray, his face lightened and he smiled broadly. "Sure!" he said. "That would be great."

So we bowed our heads, and I prayed for him, that God would keep him safe and help him in his work that night. He stretched out his hand when I finished. "Thank you. I really appreciate that," he said, and then he added, "My family really appreciates that."

Day 102: Door-busters

Walmart was as you might have expected it on Thanksgiving evening. All hands were on deck. Swarms of employees blanketed the store wearing yellow vests, making them look a bit like a road crew that had come inside. At this point -- at 9 p.m. -- there wasn't much for them to do but stand around and guard the stacks of appliances and electronics that formed towers in the aisles. Shoppers so far were few.

I wove through this traffic on the way to picking up a couple of things for a Thanksgiving meal we were hosting tomorrow. At the cash register, the clerk told me the craziness would start at midnight, when the toys went on sale. The appliances wouldn't be discounted until 5 a.m.

She was friendly, probably 40 years old. She would miss most of the action, getting off before midnight and then coming back to work at 8:30 a.m., after the heaviest of the rush had subsided. But it still was going to be a busy time.

When I asked to say a prayer for her, she quickly agreed. And I bowed my head and prayed. At the start, she kind of chuckled a little, maybe just surprised. I prayed that God would bless her and help her through what was sure to be a busy time at her work. Afterward she thanked me. "I really needed that, especially today," she said.

Day 101: Meatball sandwich

He was standing behind the counter at Subway, working over three footlong sandwiches I'd ordered (it takes a lot to feed our crew). He was a young guy, with a long pony-tail, a scraggly beard and a ball cap. I'd never seen him in there before, so I figured he was new to the job. 

But he was efficient, as those Subway sandwich people are designed to be. He also was quiet. No small talk. So I just watched. Lettuce. Tomato. Mayonnaise. Meatballs. (Not all on the same sandwich, of course.) I paid and he handed me my change, and my receipt. I asked him my question then.

He looked down a little, and said, "Thank you." I wasn't sure what to make of that answer. He seemed to appreciate the question, but I told him I wanted to pray for him right then. There was another employee in the back of the store, but I think he was out of earshot. Otherwise, the place was empty.

The sandwich "artist" agreed then, and I prayed for him. He bowed his head, too. I prayed that God would bless him as he finished his work that night. After the "amen," I thanked him and wished him a happy Thanksgiving. He had a smile on his face.

Day 100: The bell-ringer

His name was Mario, standing in front of Walmart in a red apron, ringing a bell for the Salvation Army. As I dropped some change into the red kettle (all the coins I could scrounge out of my car), I could tell he'd had a pretty good night. I could see a bunch of bills packed in there.

I don't think he was keeping track, though. He was just leaning back against the wall, bundled in a big coat and a hat, ringing his bell. He told me he'd been there since about 3 p.m., which was five hours ago. That's a long time, I said. He just shrugged and told me it's a good way to make some extra money. So bell-ringers do get paid. Who knew?

Then there was the big question. "How often to you have to switch hands?" I asked. He chuckled a little bit, still ringing his bell. He switches about every 20 minutes.

I asked then if I could pray for him, and he agreed. I asked God to bless his work that night and that God would make Himself known to him, keeping Mario in tune with His ways. Mario thanked me, and I left.

It's hard to believe this project has reached 100 days. You'd think doing something 100 times would make it kind of old hat. But not with this project. Every day is a new one. And every person is unique.

Day 99: Stalled

Her Jeep Cherokee was in the left lane of a four-lane street, a little crooked, its hazard lights flashing. It was dark, but the street wasn't busy. I stopped next to her and tried to get her attention. She was talking excitedly on the phone, her car door open. She clearly was having car trouble.

So I got out and walked around to her. She told me she had been driving down the road when her car just locked up, started swerving and then just stopped. She was young, probably 20, and had been working at Sonic, according to her uniform. I told her I'd try to push her off the street. By then, another guy showed up with the same idea.

But her car didn't budge, even in neutral. So we were forced to wait. The other guy looked all over the car, trying to figure out why it had locked up -- probably dropped the transmission, he concluded. The driver, distraught, called the police, and her parents. And she broke down and cried at one point talking on the phone.

It was cold, and as we were standing there, watching the oncoming traffic and hoped those drivers were paying attention, I offered to pray for her. She nodded that would be OK. Her name was Ashley. I'm not sure at the time it did much good. She was pretty frazzled, worried about having to buy another car -- and she loved her Jeep. But I prayed the God would give her peace and assurance.

A few minutes later, a sheriff's officer pulled up, his lights flashing. It was my cue to leave. The other guy who was helping did the same.

Day 98: The stoplight

We'd left church and were sitting at the stoplight in the middle of Valley Center. The guy in the car next to us honked his horn. He was a friend. I rolled down my window, expecting to exchange a couple of quick pleasantries. But he immediately asked, "Have you prayed for anyone yet today?" (He's known about this project for some time.)

That's the first I've been asked that. And as a matter of fact, I hadn't prayed for anyone that day. "You can pray for me," he said. So I did, asking God to bless him that day. In the middle of the prayer, of course, the light turned green. Ours were the first two cars at the light. We got a few honks.

It was a welcome moment. This friend is someone I admire. I admire the way he persevered through a really difficult health issue several years go. I admire the way he lives his life at work, not getting distracted. My prayer at Main and Meridian was a brief one, but I had a day to think about and pray for him.

Day 97: Free coffee

The sign beckoned. A free 16-ounce cup of coffee. It has been the major promotion at the new Kwik Shop in town. And it apparently is working. I walked in and stood over the coffee bar and noticed immediately there were no 16-ounce cups left. Just an empty cup dispenser. I looked on another bar behind me. Again, none. The clerk standing next to the deli -- another new and improved feature of this revamped convenience store -- noticed me casting about and told me just to use the 24-ounce cups. 

That's a lot of coffee. Especially for 6 p.m. But who was I to argue? I also grabbed some M&Ms for Mary and walked to the counter. The clerk told me the coffee special was really popular. Obviously. She was about 20 years old and friendly. But she talked so softly I could barely hear her. I spoke up when she handed me my receipt, asking her my question.

Her head moved back and a puzzled look crossed her face. "Why?" she asked. I told her my story, that this was just something I did for people every day. So she agreed, and I prayed for her. She thanked me as I left. I'm not sure what she thought of it. Her face was mostly expressionless.

Once I got home, Mary was appalled. "That's a lot of coffee!" she said before showing off my huge cup to the kids. Four-year-old Isabella acted particularly shocked, gasping in surprise. I tried to defend myself: "It's free!" I argued weakly. Mary didn't say anything about the M&Ms. I might eat them myself.

Day 96: Bread

You can't eat chili without bread. That's not a fact. You actually can. But, in my opinion, there's just something in chili that cries out for a good piece of bread. So I was standing in the check-out line with a loaf of bread -- and some blueberry bagels I picked up for some reason, not sure why.

The cashier's name was Ian. He was a tall, young guy. I asked him how he was. "I'll be a lot better when I get out of here," he said. He was to work until 9 p.m., three hours away. We chatted a little more and then he handed me my receipt. I asked him my question.

He accepted it pretty much instantly. "Go ahead," he said. I felt the need then to clarify. I really wanted to pray for him right there on the the spot. I don't know why I gave him another chance to skip out. But he was willing. "Go ahead," he said again. So I did, praying for his work that night and that God would bless him in some way.

He thanked me as I grabbed my bread and left.

Day 95: A sweater

He walked out of the hotel as I was passing by on the sidewalk. He was in his 60s, a short man dressed for business. I noticed the sweater, which he was wearing under his sport coat, and was a bit jealous. Winter has come finally, and it’s been cold this week. I’ve not quite adjusted to this fact.

I asked if I could pray for him, and he paused and then said, “Sure.” Then he started to move on, but I stopped him again. I wanted to pray for him now. “Right here?” he asked, puzzled by my persistence. No, he shook his head and continued moving. “You can pray for me later,” he said.

So as I walked back through Old Town, I did pray for him. But I was shivering. Maybe tomorrow I’ll wear a sweater.

Day 94: ‘Yeaahh’

I was staring at his back, his long pony tail hanging down over his leather jacket. He was standing next to a little black car, filling it up with gas. I got his attention, asking my question.

There was a long pause. He seemed a casual kind of a guy, about 40 years old, with a beard and jeans. But the pause continued as he stared straight back into my eyes. So I asked him again: “Can I pray for you.”

His answer was puzzling. “Yeaahh,” he said. It was the way he said it that caught me. It was as if I asked him if he wanted a million bucks. It was that “yeah” you give to a really stupid question. That would have been a great, refreshing answer. But the look on his face was totally detached from what he was saying. He just looked annoyed that I was there.

So, not sure what else to say, I asked him again. He didn’t pause this time, but just gave me that same “Yeaahh.” By this time, I felt mildly like an idiot. So I just bowed my head and prayed for him. I’m not sure whether he bowed his head. He was looking at me when I lifted my eyes. We had another brief pause, and then I thanked him. He didn’t really say anything. He moved to his side of the gas pump, and I moved to mine.

On the way home, I tried to commit to memory that response. “Yeaahh!” I said aloud in my empty car. And then “yeaahh” and again, “yeaahh.” This continued for three miles until I finally gave up. I really have no idea what he was thinking.

Day 93: A Walmart greeter

I walked into the store and straight up to the old guy standing in the entry way. His tag said his name was Bill, given the title of "people greeter." He was about 70, with gray hair and a mustache. He had friendly look on his face, as all Walmart greeters should.

There weren't many people around. It was almost 10 p.m. I asked him my question right away. He paused and said it would be OK. So we prayed right there about his work and that he would have a good evening, with God's blessing on him.

Bill thanked me then, and said with a smile, "The same prayer goes for you, my friend." It was my turn to thank him.

After three months ...

For years, I've prayed the Lord's Prayer on my way to work. It's been there every day during that commute.  Sometimes it's uplifting. Other times, it's a chore. But I can't stop myself from doing it. I'll even sit in the parking lot after I arrive, to make sure I pray, meditating on every major concept in the prayer.

And for years when I got to that part about God and "thy will be done," I would pause and take a deep breath. It was a sigh really. In my prayer, I was releasing myself to God's will. Whatever God wanted to do to me that day, I was okay with it. He's in charge.

My perspective through this project has changed slightly. I still acknowledge His sovereign will. But I've found myself praying a bit differently -- less concerned about what God will do to me, and more concerned with what God will do through me.

I've found that we're not punching bags that God throws his best stuff at, either good or bad -- and mostly bad. Instead, we're supposed to be vessels created by Him to love Him and serve Him. And at some point, we reach out to Him and desire to do His will. We want to carry forward whatever He has in store for us.

That's a lesson I've learned in this project, which I'm finding so far is as much about teaching me about God as it is about me testifying to others.

Day 92: Gum

We were standing in the parking lot of a fast-food restaurant in Hays, Kansas – on our way back from Colorado. We’d just fed the kids and were looking at another two and a half hours of driving before we got home.

To say it had been an effortless trip would be an exaggeration. But it had been relatively smooth. This was only our second (and final) real stop for the day. The only other was in a little town in Colorado where we’d gassed up.

And we did stop once on the side of the road for Sam. It was a desperation move. He likes to chew gum. And for a two-year-old, he’s remarkably responsible about it. He’ll chew and chew and chew and chew. And then, when he decides he’s done, he’ll spit it out – into someone’s hand. Mary usually gets that job.

But as we were heading across the plains of eastern Colorado, Sam decided he wanted gum. “I want gum!” Those were his exact words, over and over. Of course, we had no gum at that moment. And though we tried to explain this fact to Sam, he refused reason. Tears poured down his face, and he just wailed: “I want gum!”

We normally ignore such outbursts, but after about 30 minutes, this one was getting ridiculous. So we stopped and tried some discipline. It didn’t work. He just kept wailing. But his shoes at some point during our trip had been removed, and he noticed this fact and demanded that he wear them. So we put them on him, and he almost instantly was silent. He’d forgotten about the gum and appeared content at least to have some footwear on. We put him back in his seat and within 10 minutes was asleep, whimpering as he sucked his thumb.

I describe all of this because as Mary and I stood in that parking lot in Hays while our kids buckled themselves in their car seats, I looked over at the convenience store next door and then back at Mary. “Do we need any gum?” I asked. Mary looked at Sam and considered the possibilities. “Yes,” she said quickly.

So I jogged over there and bought a pack of Juicy Fruit. The clerk was a 50-something guy, with short hair and glasses. We exchanged pleasantries, along with a dollar and some change. Then I asked him my question. “Yes,” he said immediately. This struck me for some reason as odd. So I asked him again to make sure he heard me correctly – that I wanted to pray for him. “Yes,” he said again.

So I prayed for him. He thanked me later, and I took my gum and headed for home. Sam asked for a piece at about the time we reached Salina.

Day 91: A new friend

We stopped for gas in Buena Vista, Colo., and I went inside for some coffee and Juicy Fruit gum for the kids. The attendant was a woman, working alone on a Sunday morning in the mountains.

I asked her how business had been going. It had been a good fall up until about a week ago. The tourists have largely disappeared. And from Christmas until about Memorial Day, it would be pretty dead around here.

Before I left, I asked her my question. She smiled and told me I could pray for her. So I did, asking for God's blessing on her for that beautiful day and praying for her business, that it would be a success. After my "amen," she said, "And thank you Jesus, for my new friend."

Her name was Sue. And I thanked God I found her.

Day 90: An alternator

We were headed west through the mountains, needing to make a two-hour drive. Not far into the trip, I saw the battery light come on. Normally, this is something I ignore. I know that makes me a horrible car owner, but it's true.

However, there were four kids in the van at the time, and Mary. So we had to check it out. Figuring it was a battery slowly dying, we started looking for a mechanic's shop to confirm this. The first two we tried were closed. At the third one, in Aspen Park, Colo., the owner shook his head. "It's the alternator. It's dying on you," he said.

This was a whole new proposition. We were praying by this point. It was getting late in the afternoon on a Saturday. The first two alternatives weren't pleasant ones. Trying to make it back to Denver was the first. Our new mechanic couldn't assure us we'd make it. And if we did, we'd have to find a place to fix it on a Sunday.

The second alternative was to wait on him to fix it. That wouldn't be until the next day. We didn't like this one either.

So I asked again if he could fix it that day. He sighed. He had a lot of work to do. But I could tell he didn't want to pass up this job, which was a pretty good sized one for the last minute. So he went inside to make some calls, to see if anyone in Aspen Park had an alternator for a 2005 Grand Caravan. "You're in luck," he said when he emerged from his shop.

So we spent the next three and a half hours in a restaurant about two blocks away. I sat and marveled at my wife's ability to cope with this fact, entertaining four kids -- one of whom is a restless two-year-old boy.

Finally, the van was done. And somebody was going to get a prayer. The owner was busy as I was paying the tab, so his employee, a 30-something guy named Brad, looked at me with a little smile when I asked my question. I told him I really wanted to pray for him after what he and his employer were able to accomplish for our family that night. He hesitated only a little and then said "yes."

So I prayed for him in his work, and for his boss. And when we left, we continued to thank Jesus for his provision in our lives.

Day 89: Pillows

We drove to Colorado today. Tomorrow is my aunt's funeral. It has been a tough three months in our family.

But I got to pray for someone today. We've piled our family into a single hotel room in Castle Rock -- me and Mary and four kids. This, of course, required some extra pillows. So I went down and talked to the hotel receptionist.

She works alone for her shift, staffing the front desk and helping with odd requests like mine. I helped her with the pillow cases, and she told me how business was slow and that it got kind of lonely sometimes. But she was friendly and definitely chatty.

So I asked if I could pray for her. She didn't hestitate. I asked for God's blessing in her work, and then I asked whether she had any specific prayer requests. She couldn't think of any. "Jesus has been good to me," she said. I was glad for that and took those pillows back to the room.

Day 88: The Lutheran

It was a damp, cool night. People were walking around in Old Town, but there weren't many of them. The guy I saw was coming toward me on the other side of the street. Cradled in his arm was something inside a white paper bag.

He crossed the street at an angle, heading toward the Hotel at Old Town. That's when I stopped him. He was probably 55, dressed casually. I asked if I could ask him something. He stopped there in the middle of the street. "Sure," he said in a friendly tone, "but I'm not from here."

But I didn't need directions. As we moved toward the side of the street, I asked if I could pray for him. He paused a second and then said, "Sure." I told him that I wanted to say a quick prayer for him right then. His demeanor changed immediately. He shook his head and then put his head down and brushed past me. I had to turn almost completely around to keep my eyes on him.

"I'm a Christian," he said as he was walking away. "I'm a Lutheran. But this is weird." And then he was gone, even as I thanked him for at least talking to me. That's the second time someone has outright told me that praying for someone, a stranger in the street, is weird.

All I could do was shrug, be content in my weirdness and pray for him.

Scripture: "Patient endurance is what you need now, so that you will continue to do God's will. Then you will receive all that he has promised." Hebrews 10:36

Day 87: The waiter

He was standing in the shadow of an alley, wearing the black apron of a waiter. In one hand was a cigarette; in the other was a cell phone. He was texting when I walked up to him. He was tall, maybe 25 years old, and he got a very puzzled look on his face when I asked him whether I could pray for him.

“What do you need?” he asked, not sure he heard me correctly. He was friendly, but confused. I asked him again, and he promptly said “no” then. “Are you sure?” I asked. “It will just take 10 seconds.” He looked me up and down then and told me again, “No thanks, man.” Then he went back to his texting.

So I left, praying for him as I walked back to my car.

Day 86: No thanks

Someone at church recently said she was discouraged for me after reading a few of my blog posts recently. Some people have told me “no,” that they weren’t interested in what I had to say. I thought it was very kind of her to say what she said. She certainly didn’t have to, and most people don’t. I think it speaks to her loving heart.

I’ve thought about it a lot since then, however, and I’m not discouraged. When I started this, I thought I might become that way if my message was rejected over and over again. How could someone keep that up?

But that’s proved not to be the case. Instead, I feel blessed. I believe God has given me something to do. I like to call it my “go” commission, and I believe one of three things are happening (or maybe a combination of them). The first may be that not a single person responds positively, in their hearts, to God’s message. God instead may be sending me out to talk to people, and his plan is to build something in me, maybe some element of courage or just a greater understanding of what obedience really is.

The second may be that I am doing all of this in order to reach a single person, or maybe just a couple of people. I don’t know who they are, and I may not meet them until the very last day. So perhaps all of this that I have been doing is preparation for that one moment where God wants me to touch someone in a positive way for him.

The third possibility may be that every single person I talk to was put in front of me for a purpose. Maybe God wants them to have a cut-and-dried opportunity to respond to Him, and I’m the person to present the message. Some of them may say “yes,” and some may say “no.” But God is giving them a chance to respond.

I like to think that this is what’s happening with this project – that every person I meet is there at just the right time, and that they will take a moment to say “yes” or “no” in their hearts. And so in that sense, I can’t be disappointed when someone tells me “no” to an offer to pray for him. It’s not really important what they say to my question. It doesn’t matter what they think of me. What’s important is what they say in that quiet moment later, when they consider who God is and what He has done for them. That’s the moment that matters, the one that has eternal consequences.

So I can rejoice no matter what someone says to me. It’s important for me just to be obedient.

On that note, I got a “no” tonight. I saw the guy trying to time out a quick dash across a busy street. He was wearing a suit shirt and slacks, looking like he’d just shed the tie and coat for the evening. I was nearing the street when he made a break for it, picking his moment during a lull in traffic. It wasn’t what you’d call a graceful jog. He was a tall guy and his limbs seemed to extend in every which direction as they propelled him forward.

But he made it, reaching the curb and then the sidewalk. I stopped him then and asked him my question. He was about 60, with an executive air to him. He had dark hair but with growing amounts of gray on either side of his head. He didn’t take but a second to consider my request, and then he put his hand up toward my face and started moving away. “No,” he said. “No thanks.” There wasn’t anything mean-spirited in his voice. He just didn’t want to have anything to do with me.

All I could do was walk away. But I prayed for him anyway.

Day 85: Blue collar

The gas station I chose wasn't my normal one. It was in an area surrounded by hotels in more of an industrial area, a place I always used to fill up when I was in high school. I liked it because it was a bit out of the way. Tonight, I liked it because there were plenty of people there.

I pulled in as a two pickup trucks full of utility line workers stopped in at the convenience store. About eight of them piled out, joking and talking on their phones. They'd had a long day by the looks of them, but it didn't dampen their mood. Meanwhile, across from me was a guy about 25 years old, filling up his pickup. He wore boots and a baseball cap, surely just finished working some job some where. He pre-paid and walked back out as I was finishing up.

I figured this was as good a chance as any. So I asked if I could pray for him. I love the smiles I get sometimes. He kind of glanced around, grinned and told me that sure, I could pray for him. So I did, asking for God's blessing on him that night. He thanked me when I'd finished. I took one more glance around at all the activity there that night and then drove home.

Day 84: Soap, milk

That’s what I bought. When you go to the grocery store for no particular reason – other than to find someone to pray for – ideas start running through your mind about what to buy. I settled on milk, because our family of six always could use milk, and soap, because it was the one other legitimate need I could think of.

It was about 9 p.m., and Leeker’s Family Foods was almost devoid of customers. For customers, there were two guys there, probably a father and son, buying an assortment of groceries. They spent a lot of time in the detergent aisle. At one point, I saw them holding the cap of one bottle in their hands, apparently checking the smell. Also in the store was a guy who’d just gotten a ticket. I’d seen him pulled over in the parking lot, the flashing lights of the Park City Police Department behind him.

And then there were the employees, at least four of them. I prayed for the woman who checked me out of the store. She was about 45 and chewing gum. Her tag said her name was Renea. And she willingly accepted my invitation for a prayer. I prayed for God’s blessing as she finished out her evening of work. She thanked me, and I left, milk and soap in hand.

Day 83: A Happy Meal

Sam and I had some time to ourselves this evening. It was movie night at the school, which basically involved all the females of our house. So it was guy time. The place to go with a 2-year-old boy and nothing better to do? McDonald’s.

We ordered a happy meal. I’d had my eye on the guy delivering the food from the kitchen to the front counter. His tag said his name was Michael, the manager. So when he carefully packaged up the McNuggets, apples and random toy, handing it to me, I pulled him to the side.

“Can I pray for you?” I asked. He was probably 20 years old. He smiled, a bit uncomfortably, and said grudgingly that I could. When I told him I wanted to do it there on the spot, he squirmed a little more but didn’t flat-out say no. So I took that as a yes, and prayed that God would bless him as he led his team that night. He thanked me, and I grabbed Sam’s hand. (He’d been trying to do chin-ups at the counter during this time, trying to see over the top.)

We headed for the car with our happy meal box.

Day 82: The plumber

He was loading several bags of groceries into the back of a work van that declared he was a plumber, or at least worked for a plumbing company. He was wearing an orange hoodie and a ballcap. I stopped next to him and asked if I could pray for him.

He let out a little sigh. He was about 30 years old, maybe, and seemed fairly disgusted by it. "Why?" he asked. I told him my story about asking someone every day. He dropped a six pack of pop into the van and reached to shut the back door and said that OK, I could pray for him.

But when I asked if I could pray right then, he promptly said no and slammed the door, leaving me there. I prayed for him as I drove home.

Day 81: Walking slowly

I saw him shuffle out of the grocery store, holding a cane, and stop to lean against some metal posts there by the entrance. He wasn't looking at much in particular, just resting. Then he started to move slowly toward his car. His was parked in the closest handicapped stall. He was so slow that I was able to move my car to a closer spot before getting out to talk to him.

The man was in his 70s, with white hair and a white beard. Until now, he probably would have been considered a big man, with wide shoulders and powerful arms. But age had taken root, and his days of mobility appeared to be about over. He was holding a single plastic bag, full of bananas, and was getting ready to put them into the back of the car when I reached him.

"Hello, sir," I said. He turned slightly toward me but kept rearranging a single file box and a single newspaper in the back of his car. "What can I do for you?" he asked in a deep old voice. I told him I wanted to pray for him. He didn't look at me this time. "I already did that myself," he said gruffly. "Well," I replied, "I'd like to offer you a prayer as well today." He kept moving things around in his trunk. "You can do whatever you want," he said, "it's a free country." I'd heard that before and was glad for it, but he clearly didn't want me around, so I offered him an out. "Well do you want me to pray for you right now or do you want me to leave you alone?" To this, he was clear. He mumbled a few words I couldn't understand and then said "Leave me alone."

He still hadn't put his bananas in his car when I turned from him. I prayed when I left that God would restore health to his legs in such away that there would be no mistaking to him or others about what the Healer had done.

Day 80: A clear head

At some point, the sickness eventually will clear away, and today it started to do that for me. It was like a fog lifting out of my head, and I started thinking more clearly and getting my motivation back. Since Friday, I've been practically sleep-walking through life. Today, it got better, and it was a wonderful feeling. I'd been having all sorts of negative feelings, wanting to quit this project and everything else I'm doing. I finally seemed to snap out of it.

So I walked through Old Town on a cool night and ran into a guy wearing a sweater that had a company name, Airgas, on it. He was in his 60s, with white hair, and he struck me as maybe an executive.

He immediately said I could pray for him right there in the street, and so I did. Then he pulled his hand out of his pocket and shook mine, smiling broadly and thanking me.

Day 79: The poll worker

I did my constitutional duty today and was surprised by the long lines for the voting machines. I could have been in and out of there in 15 minutes if I'd gone for the paper ballots. But the voting machines, to me, are still kind of novel. So I wanted to wait.

I also wanted to pray for the guy who logged me into the machine. So I waited, wondering which one I'd get and hoping it would be out of earshot of other voters. You never know what the response will be. 

On my turn, I was directed to a machine in the far corner, surrounded by three others. I thought at first this was probably a pretty good spot for my project. But as I was back there with the poll worker, I was struck by how silent it was. A woman was voting right next to me, and on the other side was an entire family, kids and all.

The poll worker was a friendly guy in his 50s who joked about how busy it was and how little help he seemed to have. He quickly recited a list of instructions to make sure I knew what I was doing, and then he started to walk away. I stopped him with my question.

He just looked at me once and said matter-of-factly, "You can do whatever you want." Then I was staring at his back as he walked back across the gymnasium to pick up another voter. So I prayed for him at roughly the same time as I dutifully voted against all the judges on the ballot.

Day 78: Soul patch

He was pulling a pallet through Walmart. I'm not sure what was on it, but it took him a few paces to slow it to a stop when I greeted him. He stepped to the side, and I asked him my question.

He seemed interested by it. He was a younger guy, no older than 25. He had longer hair and a soul patch. He said I could pray for him, and so I did. Then he pulled off his glove and shook my hand, asking me my name. 

We chatted for a moment longer, and I asked if he had anything specific he'd like me to pray about. He thought about it for a little while but couldn't really think of anything. But he thanked me again as I left.

Day 77: The smile

It's been a struggle these last three days. A nasty head cold has made itself at home. It was perhaps at its worst tonight. I've noticed illness drags away your motivation -- to do anything. But here I was, needing to do something.

We were coming back from Mary's dad's house, not having eaten anything. It was late. I wasn't hungry, but I insisted we stop. I had to stop.

So I was standing at the counter of Taco Bell, ordering two tacos. The thing I remember most was the smile when I asked the cashier if I could pray for him. It was a big, jovial, slightly confused smile. He wasn't turned off. Just curious. 

"Pray for me?" he asked. He was about 25 and of Asian descent. I never really got an answer out of him. I clarified when he asked me why I wanted to do such a thing, and politely told him he could decline. He didn't decline, but he didn't say yes either. So I told him I would pray for him after I left, asking for God's blessing. The smile remained, and he said OK.

So I took my tacos and left.

Day 76: Hybrid

He fairly glided into the gas stall next to mine. I could barely hear his car, one of those Toyota hybrids. But he needed gas, and that was good for me.

I was out for ice cream with Isabella, our 4-year-old, and had decided to fill up. The tank still was half full, but this project has made even that a solid reason to stop. So there I was, standing next to our minivan and talking to they guy next to his eco-friendly car.

He was about 50, wearing jeans and a leather jacket. I asked if I could pray for him. He laughed a little and said that I could. So I did.

Day 75: Camo

He was wearing camouflage pretty much from head to foot. I might have thought he was on his way to some field somewhere but for the slippers. They were camo, too, but they definitely weren't boots. I ran into him at the gas station. He was walking out of the store toward his old blue pickup as I was stepping out of my car. We exchanged glances and then there was a pump between us.

The silence didn't last long. He actually started the conversation, asking jovially how I was doing. "Great," I said, "Never been better." That wasn't exactly true. I've had some kind of a cold all day, but my stock response to such questions recently has been to be exuberantly over-the-top happy, hoping it rubs off.

He just smiled and said I must have gotten a promotion that day, or a bonus. No, I acknowledged. In light of that, I could have been better. But we talked for a few minutes. He had big plans for Saturday, intending to go duck hunting. He was hoping there would be plenty to shoot at, but he hadn't seen many ducks this season. He was probably 50 or 55 years old and a very friendly, outgoing guy.

As he was getting back in his truck, I asked him my question. He didn't hesitate, agreeing so long as I prayed for the ducks to come flying in tomorrow. So that's what I prayed for.

Day 74: Moving chairs

He was rearranging patio chairs outside the Warren Theatre in Old Town. He was an employee there, a big guy with dreadlocks. I saw him as I came out of the parking garage.

I stopped by the fence surrounding the patio. No one was sitting in there. It was kind of a cool evening. I got his attention. He was 10 feet from me, and he didn’t step any closer. But he barely hesitated when I asked my question. “Sure!” he said. I clarified that I wanted to pray for him right then. I got another, “Sure!” So I prayed.

His name tag said James. We shook hands before I walked away.