It was close to the end of the day. The sun was hot, and he probably was ready to pack it in. But he was there, his truck parked in the middle of the street, loading up boxes of prepared food for a restaurant in Old Town. I stood there watching him disappear into the restaurant, pulling his dolly along behind him. I was waiting, filled with nervous energy.
I needed to be bold, I kept telling myself. Scripture instructs that. And my experience yesterday -- led by the Spirit, I believe -- confirmed it. Just tell them what you're up to, and then let them respond. The choice is theirs. But I'm backed by God. So I was bold, eventually. First I had to get over my fears and start walking.
When the delivery guy emerged from the restaurant, he wasted no time. He slid his ramp back into place and closed up the back of the truck. Then he started walking toward the door. I hesitated, seeing a group of people walking by on one side, and another guy coming up the street on the other. They were merely passersby, but they stopped me cold. I didn't necessarily want an audience. But they passed just in time, and I started moving -- jogging, actually. Just as he was reaching up for the door to pull himself up, I hollered -- "Hey!" And I ran up to him.
He had stepped up halfway to the cab when I arrived, looking down at me with a flat expression. "I've got a question for you," I said. "OK." He smiled. He was a guy of about 35 or 40, wearing shorts, a tattoo on one calf. "It's kind of a weird question." I guess I wanted to build some suspense. He smiled again, "OK."
"I'd like to pray for you." I said. "What?" "I'd like to pray for you. Right now." There was an inward groan, I'm almost sure. "Well," he said, "I don't have long. I've got to get going. It will have to be quick." So I prayed quick -- for him, for his safety, that he would feel God's love. Amen. Then he said, just as I was turning to go -- "Thanks friend." Those two words made a big difference.
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