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. 

Day 73: The shuttle bus

The thought of tipping the driver hadn’t occurred to me. But as I was sitting near the door of the shuttle bus that would take me to the New Orleans airport from the rental car shop, a passenger stuck his head in and handed the driver a couple of bucks. “Here you go sweetheart,” he said. He’d just gotten off the bus, coming from the airport.

I glanced around and saw the other guys there begin fishing for their wallets at about that time. So I did, too. There were about a half dozen of us, each calling out the airline we were flying as we approached the terminal. Mine was last.

“Last but not least,” she said as we pulled up in front of the Continental sign. She was a friendly lady, intent upon her work but willing to joke with her transportees. I stood and put some cash in her hand, and then said, pretty much spur of the moment, “Can I say a quick 10-second prayer for you?” I knew she probably wanted to hurry on, but I also knew she was a bit trapped. I’d just given her money, after all.

But she genuinely seemed to appreciate the offer and said that I could. It was indeed a 10-second prayer. “Thanks!” I said when I finished. And I hopped off the bus and walked into the airport.

Day 72: One arm

That was his defining feature and the thing that first caught my attention. His arm was gone from about the elbow on down. His wife was with him when they sat down at the table next to me. This was at a restaurant in the French Quarter of New Orleans. I got done with my job for the day and figured if I was going to find someone for this project today, I might as well do it in the heart of the city. Now this isn't something I naturally would be inclined to do. The French Quarter, home to Bourbon Street, isn't a place I normally would spend much time. A lot of people. A lot of traffic. A lot of activity. Not my speed.

But there I was. It was a hot day in Louisiana, and I ducked into the restaurant looking for a quick lunch. They really didn't serve lunch. It was more of a cafe serving coffee and beignets. A beignet, I discovered, is remarkably identical to a funnel cake, like what you can get at any carnival. But people were gobbling them up like they were delicacies. It was nearly entirely a tourist crowd there in the cafe, probably from all over the country and the world.

The one-armed man and his wife came and sat at a table next to me. "I'll take coffee, the strongest you've got," he told the waitress cheerfully, although she wasn't responding in kind. He got his coffee and his wife got a soda, and they sat silently watching people come and go. They were probably in their 60s. 

We got up at the same time to leave, so I turned to the man and greeted him. Then I asked if I could pray for them. They both paused at this and I looked at the man, waiting for a response. He put his hand on my shoulder and said that would be fine. When I told him I wanted to pray for them right there, he stepped immediately away. "Right now," he said, "we're going to go for a walk along the canal." It wasn't an invitation for me to join them, and he turned away from me. I glanced at his wife, still seated, as I was walking away, and she had puzzled look on her face, like she didn't really hear how the exchange ended. 

I just left, knowing her husband would fill her in. I prayed for them both as I walked back along Decatur Street to my car.

Day 71: The blank face

She either didn't hear me the first time I asked or was just dumbfounded by the question. She was the clerk at McDonald's, and she had just handed me my Big Mac and was moving away when I stopped her long enough to ask my question. The ensuing pause was long enough -- and her expression was blank enough -- that I was compelled to ask, "Did you hear me?" She sort of snapped out of it then and leaned in toward me, and I asked again if I could pray for her. A sly smile crept to her face and she eyed me. "Why?" she asked. I answered, "Because I just like to pray for at least one person every day, and you're it." She reluctantly agreed. So leaning toward her, I said a quiet prayer for her and her work that night.

Her smile was still there as I walked away. 

I met this woman in New Orleans, where I flew today to do some work. Her McDonald's was right across the street from my hotel. Now you would think that when flying, and spending time in three airports and around thousands of people, that there would be ample opportunities to engage people. And I'm sure that today there were some of those that I completely missed. But the opportunities today weren't obvious ones. On my first flight to Dallas, the plane was about half empty and there were two empty seats next to me. The second flight to New Orleans was more full than that, probably three-quarters loaded, but I again sat next to an empty seat.

Not necessarily a bad thing. Who doesn't want that, in their heart of hearts? But with that potential opportunity gone, I was left with stopping someone at the airport, which I didn't do. Nor did I when I rented a car, either from the friendly desk clerk or the ruthlessly efficient attendant who gave me the keys and pointed out all the dents. Nor did I when I checked into the hotel. So to McDonald's I went.

Another thing I noticed today is the reluctance that hit me when I thought about reaching out. I'm pretty comfortable in Old Town and willing to stop almost anybody if the opportunity presents itself -- usually. Getting into another community altogether makes me think twice. Courage out here certainly is at a premium. I don't imagine the people elsewhere in the United States are different than Wichitans when it comes to their faith. But this is their turf, not mine, and for some reason I'm very mindful of that. It's weird, I know, but it is what it is.

Day 70: Hauling

I saw him walking toward the store across the long expanse of the Walmart parking lot as I pulled in off the street. His semi-truck was parked on the far outskirts, its hazard lights blinking. I figured he wouldn’t be long, and he wasn’t.

A few minutes later, he came back out of the store, heading back for his truck carrying a plastic bag. I walked up to him and asked if I could ask him a question. He stopped and looked at me, but didn’t say anything. I took that as a yes. So I asked if I could pray for him. He smiled, revealing a huge wad of tobacco. “I guess,” he said, still smiling.

He was 40ish, wearing an orange public works shirt and a ballcap. I prayed for him there in the parking lot, that he would be safe and that God would bless him. He paused a moment longer after I finished my prayer, his head still bowed. Then we shook hands then and chatted for a few minutes. He no longer worked for public works, he said, pointing to his truck. He had just been home for the weekend and now was headed for Oklahoma City. I wished him well, and we parted.

Day 69: Big Red

He was wearing a Nebraska shirt. I’m not a huge fan, but a couple of my friends are. They’re nice people. They know the glory days are over, and while things look good now, they don’t let their heads get too big. After all, they know the glory days are over.

This Nebraska fan was standing beside his car, pumping gas. He was probably just out of college, a young, athletic-looking guy. After a bit of a hesitation, I stuck my head around the gas pump, noted Nebraska won today and asked if I could pray for him. He kind of chuckled and said I could. So I did.

Day 68: Stocking shelves

They really weren't shelves he was stocking. They were coolers. He was in Walmart, unpacking what looked like apple juice. We were the only ones in that particular aisle, and he greeted me as I walked up to him.

He met my question with a smile, kind of a questioning one. But he was a good sport, and allowed me to pray for him. His nametag identified him as James. He was a young guy, no more than 30. He had a mustache that for some reason I remember. I thanked him as I walked off.

It was a good end to a tough day, at least as far as this project goes. I've lacked confidence and boldness this week for some reason. I'm not sure why, after more than two months, that I seem to be taking steps backward in that department.

Here's some Scripture that I was pointed back to today by Mary: "For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline. So never be ashamed to tell others about our Lord." 2 Timothy 1:7-8

Day 67: Hunting

It wasn't a big store and, really, was one I hadn't noticed until a few weeks ago, even though it's close to our house. It sells bow-hunting equipment.  It's in a small building and lacks stand-out signage, so you're not to be blamed if you just drive on by.

The parking lot was empty when I pulled in. And at first, I thought maybe the store was, too. Not a soul was in sight when I walked in and stood there, staring at the bows on the wall and the large deer mounts and antlers positioned around the room. "Anybody home?" I called.

A moment later, a short guy came around the corner. He was the owner. He was a friendly guy, in his 50s. I asked if I could pray for him. The question stopped him in his tracks. "Nnnnn," he said quietly (or something like that) as he considered the request. Not sure I heard him, I leaned toward him. "Was that a no?" He stumbled around a little bit more and then asked me, "Why?" So I explained that I liked to pray for at least one person a day, and I had noticed his shop.

He relented eventually, and I said a quick prayer. And then we talked. He had been laid off from Cessna but now was trying to follow his dream. It was difficult. Other stores could pour more money into their offerings, and bigger stores could sell products more cheaply than he could.

But he's been bow-hunting since he was a teenager. "I have faith and I have knowledge," he said. We both agreed those are good things. And I think we agreed a little more marketing -- and a bigger sign out front -- wouldn't hurt either.

Day 66: Washing windows

He was washing the windows of his pickup truck while he was filling up with gas. I watched him move from one window to the next, to the next, to the next. He got them all at least once and was very meticulous about it. The pump had long since stopped by the time he came back around the truck to top it off. That's when I asked him my question.

He was an older guy, with white hair and wearing a t-shirt, jeans and flip-flops. I pictured him as a grown-up hippie. "Sure," he said, matter of fact, I could pray for him. And then he started to walk off. But I told him I wanted to pray for him right there. He paused for a second and then told me that, no, he wasn't going to stand there while I prayed. He does his praying himself, every day and every night. Then he walked into the Quik Trip.

It was a suitable enough answer for me, and one I'd heard before. I got into my car but waited there, jotting down some notes about him. I used to take notes after every time I talked to someone, not wanting to forget a single detail. But I hadn't done that in weeks. Here, however, I did.

I'm glad for it, because my new friend rather quickly came back out of the store and was standing beside my car, tapping on the window. I rolled it down. "Do you know where you find God?" he asked, not waiting for a reply. "You find God by going to the lake and turning everything off and just sitting there, watching the raccoons and the squirrels go by." He proceeded to tell me about the wonders of nature and how God could be found there.

I found myself nodding in agreement. I feel closest to God by observing his creation, too. The old hippie was telling me this with some fervor. It's something he said he did a lot, grabbing his fishing pole and putting a bobber on. Then just sitting there, letting the deer and other wildlife come to life around him.

It's a great message, I told him, something we should share with others. He said he's tried, but people tell him you have to go to church to find God. "But God's here," he said, placing a hand over his heart. "And He's in your mind, and He's all around you." Again I agreed.

We talked for several minutes there. He did most of the talking, and I did most of the listening. And then he was done, and we parted. So he was a man of faith, I decided. Perhaps not the fellowshipping kind that God calls us to be, but still one who had found a way to reach out to God.

Day 65: The waitress

Mary and I were out eating dinner, a rare event on a weeknight -- or any night for that matter. We had been observing the waitress. She was a stickler. Apparently, it's impossible to substitute entrees -- even for a cheaper one -- on the 2-for-$20 menu. But she was friendly and apologized that the food was slow in coming.

After she's brought us our check, I stopped her and asked if we could pray for her. "Pay for me?" she asked, a little confused. No, I explained, really enunciating now: "Can we p-r-a-y for you?" She seemed to lean back a little then. "Do I need prayer?" I told her that I didn't necessarily think she needed a prayer but that I was offering one if she wanted it. She hesitated more when I told her I wanted to pray right then, and she kept glancing over at Mary, who was observing for the first time one of my daily exchanges with a stranger.

Finally, the waitress let me pray, and it was a quick prayer. She thanked us then and left. I finished signing off on the bill. It is amazing how the compulsion to tip well came on me just then.

Day 64: No.

I saw him walking up the street toward me, a guy about 45 years old with a shaved head that showed some white hair. He stopped at the corner and leaned against the building, pulling out his phone to do some texting. He was in front of the Hotel at Old Town, so I figured he was staying there.

I walked up to him and stopped, asking if I could ask him a question. He just looked up at me, but only halfway really, and nodded. He was wearing a white and red striped polo shirt and had a tattoo on his forearm. "Can I pray for you?" I asked.

He straightened up immediately. "No." Then without hesitation, he turned his back on me and walked away. I asked after him whether he was sure. "Yes," he said. By then, he was several strides away and showing no sign of turning.

I prayed for him anyway as I walked back through Old Town, and then wondered later whether I should have. He was direct. There was no doubting his feelings on the subject. He didn't want any part of it. Do we have a responsibility to pray for someone like that?

Day 63: No cash

He wasn’t happy with me. Tolerant, but not happy. It was at the new gas station in town. Not exactly new. It has been there for years, struggling on and off with actually being open and in operation. It had opened again just over a month ago by a short guy who was standing right in front of me at his cash register, holding my credit card.

“Don’t you have any cash?” he asked, disappointed as I stood there with my M&M’s resting on the counter top. He was Middle Eastern, probably about 45 years old. He knew I didn’t have cash. I’d made a bit of a show of digging through my pockets, looking inside my very empty wallet, only to come up with nothing. I was there for one thing, of course, and it had little to do with candy. But I at least wanted to give the guy some business. It seemed the right thing to do.

I shrugged. I didn’t have cash. But in one more act of good faith, I walked out to our van and dug through the change-holder. I found a few dimes, one nickle and plenty of pennies. But it wasn’t going to add up. When I went back in, I offered to put the M&M’s back. His problem was the interchange fee that he’s charged on every transaction with a credit card. I asked if he would make any money on the deal. He said he would, just a little. He wasn’t very convincing.

But he insisted then on running my card. I took the receipt and asked  him if I could pray for him. It caught him off guard, and he clearly was confused, not quite understanding what I was asking. His English was OK, but not great. So I put my hands together and asked again. He kind of nodded that it would be OK, so I prayed immediately to Jesus that his business would be blessed.

We talked for a few more moments about how things were going. He was competing with the recently re-opened Kwik Shop down the street. Not a good situation for him. But he said this month was going better than last month. When I left, I still wondered whether I’d cost him money with my bag of candy. Next time, I promised him, I would bring cash.

Day 62: Foam dolphins

I knew she was a strong Christian. After all, she'd come to our church, where she was taking all of our old VBS decorations to use next year at her church. So she got piles of stuff -- waves and dolphins and compasses and a giant captain's wheel, all made out of foam. A big cardboard boat. Posters. Barrels made out of cardboard and duct tape. Some tube-shaped pylons, which I'm not really sure were supposed to be used for but that I thought were really cool.

We squeezed it all into her minivan. Some didn't fit. She was very thankful to have it. She explained her church doesn't have very many children in it, and they so want the children to come, and to bring their parents so that more lives can be changed for Him. And so we took that opportunity to pray for her, that her VBS next year would go smoothly and that the children would come to learn about Jesus.

After two months …

On one hand, the time seems to have flown by. On the other, every day has required effort. It hasn’t been easy. Here are a few observations I’ve made so far:

n  The nervousness doesn’t go away. It can sweep over you at times when you know you’re about to talk to someone, and you wonder how they’ll receive you. But isn’t as overwhelming as it was at first. Back then, the adrenaline was almost crippling.

n  Young guys – 25 and younger – have offered up some of the most consistent responses to my question. By and large, they’ve been dumbfounded. (See here, here and here.) They don’t quite seem to know what to do with it. And they are very uncomfortable being prayed for. I think guys of that age oftentimes don’t think much about God. They’ve got other things on their minds. But there have been some exceptions (See here.)

n  This project requires a lot of trust – trust that God is working through me. I won’t get to see the outcome of my efforts, at least not in this life. Sometimes, I get weak. I wonder what in the world I’m doing. But God has always been there to lift me back up.

n  Old Town is a very good mission field, and a very convenient one. Walmart, my mission field of last resort, also hasn’t disappointed.

n  I’ve gotten quite a bit of exercise doing this. My circuit through Old Town is about a mile long. Not bad.

Day 61: Trash cans

He was changing out plastic bags in a couple of trash cans near the entrance of Walmart. He was an employee, looking off into the distance as he did his work. He wasn’t moving quickly.

He was a young guy, about 20 years old, and tall. I walked up to him and asked him my question. “Whaaat?” he asked, a little incredulously. So I asked him again, and he pondered this for a minute. He was smiling, so maybe he thought it was a joke.

But eventually he came to the realization that I was serious. At first, he said I could. And then when I told him I would do it right then, he balked. “I’ve got a lot of work to do,” he said, gesturing to the trash cans. I shrugged, told him he could keep working and bowed my head. He did keep working, bending down at one point to pick up a lid during my prayer. There was no question he was working with more ambition than when I first saw him.

After I finished, I thanked him. He kind of smiled, definitely uncomfortable.

Day 60: A big guy

I knew he was big before I stepped around the gas pump to talk to him. And indeed he was as he leaned against his white Chevrolet pickup. He was maybe 40 years old. I had intentionally pulled into the stall next to him.

I asked if I could pray for him, and he immediately agreed. So we prayed right there on the spot, just a quick prayer asking for God's blessing. Then he thanked me. When we left the gas station, he drove south and I drove north.

Day 59: A baby

It was getting late in Old Town Square. The lights were ablaze for a Wednesday night, and I was looking for someone to talk to. For some reason, I've felt more called to talk to men as I've been following through with this project. I'm not sure why, spiritually. But on the practical side, I worry that a woman would get uncomfortable in a hurry if she was approached by a strange man on the street. Especially after dark.

But that didn't stop me today. Maybe it was because it was well lit. There was a mother holding her baby under the lights of the Square. I could see the baby gazing up into the neon glow, transfixed. The mom was trying to shush him (I think it was a him).

I asked if I could pray for her, and she didn't hesitate saying yes. So I prayed for her and her child, that God would give the baby the rest that babies need. This one was probably 6-months old.

She thanked me and we chatted for a couple of minutes. She'd been eating at a restaurant and the little got fussy. So outside they went. Fortunately it was a beautiful night.

Day 58: Stopping

A typical early-evening phone call between Mary and me goes something like this:

“When are you coming home?” she asks, very sweetly. It’s just after 6 p.m.

“Shouldn’t be long.”

She pauses. “How long is that?”

“About 10 minutes.”

She knows what to ask. “Do you have to make a stop first?”

“Yes.”

“OK,” she concludes, “then I’ll go ahead and feed the kids. Come home as soon as you can.”

And then we hang up.

Tonight we had that conversation as I was walking through a parking garage in Old Town, just next to the Warren Theatre. I needed to make a stop and, after several blocks of walking, still hadn’t done it. But there was a woman behind me, so I stopped right then.

I asked if I could ask her a question. She stopped and pulled an earphone out of her ear, to clarify what she’d heard. She was 50-ish and short. I’d seen her a moment before, getting out of her four-door sedan. It had one of those “End This War” bumper stickers. So I figured she might be an activist.

I asked if I could pray for her, and she barely hesitated in saying yes. I told her I wanted to pray right then. “Well, it will have to be fast. I have a class to get to.” So I prayed fast. She thanked me warmly, and we shook hands. Then she headed for her class, wherever that was.

With my stop concluded, I went home.

Day 57: A smoker

I’m not sure what percentage of the people I’ve met during this project are smokers. But it’s got to be a pretty high one, at least compared to the overall ratio of smokers in Wichita, Kansas. It’s just that smokers have to take breaks, and they have to go outside. And generally, they have to stand still. That makes them perfect targets.

He was smoking in front of the Marriott Hotel in Old Town, a guy about 35 years old wearing a ball cap. He was there when I crossed the street, and  he was there when I crossed over in front of the hotel, and he still was there when I walked up the sidewalk to him.

I asked if I could pray for him, and his answer was almost immediate. “Sure,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. So we prayed. I asked later if there was anything else I could pray for him about, and he said there wasn’t. But he thanked me and shook my hand.

Day 56: Pushing shopping carts

I wound up at Walmart tonight, looking for someone to talk to. The guy I found was a store employee, rounding up shopping carts in the parking lot. I walked up to him and asked if I could ask him a question. “What?” he asked. He was wearing an earpiece, probably so he could be summoned to some other job in the store at a moment’s notice.

He was a young guy, no more than 20. He was wearing shorts and one of those neon green blazers. When I finally did ask my question, he looked confused. “Pray for me?” After a few seconds he agreed, but was a bit surprised then when I bowed my head. But he followed suit, and I prayed for him.

I stuck out my hand after I’d finished – “Thank you Luis!” I said, reading his name badge. He shook my hand. It was wet. (It had been raining that day.) Then I walked into the store.

I bought two gallons of milk and went home.

Day 55: The pizza delivery guy

It was dark. Really dark. There wasn’t much of a moon in the sky, and the street lights were off in the distance. A big tree blocked any other possible light. So I barely noticed something was different about the car parked in front of me when I left by little brother’s house tonight. I discovered, of course, that it was one of those temporary signs the pizza guy puts on his car when he heads out to make his deliveries.

At first, I started to get into my car and just drive off, but then I sensed this was a good opportunity, so I waited. It took a few moments for the delivery guy to finish up at the house next door and then fumble his way with getting out of that fenced yard.

I kept my hands in plain view as I walked up to him, not wanting to startle him or think he was about to get robbed. To alleviate all his doubts for good, I asked him almost immediately whether I could pray for him. He said I could. Standing next to him, I could just make out his face. He was young, no more than 20. He bowed his head and listened to my prayer for him – for safety and blessings.

Then we shook hands and hopped in our cars, each going different directions.

Day 54: Go Red Sox!

I felt God really placing people in front of me today. On one occasion, I passed the same guy three times in the space of about three blocks -- both of us were wandering around, kind of aimlessly. But just as I was about to talk to him, he disappeared into a building. So I kept walking. It was a beautiful Friday evening in Old Town.

I passed a middle-aged couple and thought about talking to them, but I didn't. I passed a young intelligent looking guy -- big rims on his glasses and all -- and thought about talking to him, but I didn't. I saw a car sitting up ahead with its driver's side door open and thought about talking to the driver, who surely was sitting there, but I didn't. I passed a short guy with a Red Sox t-shirt as he got out of his car. I thought about talking to him, but I didn't.

It's funny because I'm feeling more comfortable with this mission every day. But then I pass up multiple opportunities some days. But I kept walking, eventually rounding the block. And there, sitting in Old Town Square, was the guy with the Red Sox shirt. He was smoking a cigarette. Probably 50 years old, what I most remember about him were his shorts and his white, white legs.

I stopped to ask him if I could pray for him. He paused and looked away, "No, not right now," he said. And then he looked at me. He spoke confidently, not seeming too put off by all this. "What church do you go to?" he asked. I told him Valley Center Christian Church. He nodded, seeming to know where Valley Center was. Then I asked him one more time, because a prayer would only take a few seconds. But he said no. However he told me he appreciated me asking him.

So I told him I would go ahead and say a prayer for him anyway as I walked away. And I did.

Day 53: A divorce

I met a friendly guy today who needed a prayer. I was walking along by one of the hotels in Old Town and saw him come out for a smoke break. He was an employee there, dressed all in black.

He greeted me as I came up to him, and I stopped there and asked him my question. He didn't hesitate in saying yes. So I prayed that God would be with him in his work that night and that he'd feel God's presence around him.

He smiled when I finished. "Thank you for doing that. Can I shake your hand?" he asked. I extended mine and we chatted for a minute or so. He asked my name, and I asked his. It was Phillip Morris. "Just like the cigarette company," I blurted. He smiled again. I bet he gets that a lot, but he didn't seem to mind. He was a gregarious guy, one of those who probably never meets a stranger.

Then I asked if there was anything specific he would like me to pray for him after I left. There was. "I'm going through a divorce," he said. "And I want to be a good father to my child. I'm a young dad and I just want to make sure my head's screwed on straight."

I promised him that as I walked back down the street that I would be praying for him and his situation. He thanked me, and I left.

If you have a minute, please say a prayer for Phillip.

Day 52: Smiley

I apologize in advance for the length of this post.

It was after dark in Old Town, and as I walked, I prayed that God would reveal to me someone who was on the verge. Someone who was close to making a decision. I wanted God to use me as he instigated a life change in someone. Perhaps God answered my prayer.

He was on the other side of the street when I saw him, so I crossed over and intercepted him. "Can I pray for you?" I asked. He paused for a long moment, looking at the sidewalk between us and then down the street. "Yeah," he said. And then he added, "It's funny you should ask that. I'm homeless. I don't have a job or anything." I found that surprising. He didn't look homeless. Just depressed. He was probably not much older than me. But his face was weathered. He had a tattoo on his neck that read, "Smiley." But I never saw him smile.

He went on to explain his story. His name was Randy, and he was at rock bottom. He felt like everywhere he turned was a closed door. He'd already spent eight years in prison. And recently he'd been through an addiction treatment program and left his hometown of Salina to get away from the temptations that were inherent there. But the halfway house where he was supposed to stay while he looked for work here had no bed for him. So he would be on the street for the next few days.

He told me he had been saved, and he prayed every day. But it was clear he didn't think those prayers had been answered. He was still searching. But he said he didn't believe in coincidences. One of his brothers had been killed recently while walking drunk on the street. Another was cooking meth when his lab blew up in his face. And Randy himself just recently was almost struck by a car while crossing the street.

And there I was, standing in front of him. We had a long talk about God and about how He lifts us up when we are at our lowest point, and how He delights in working through those who are weak. We talked about how God first wants to be in relationship with us. That's why He made us. And we talked about how it is God and God only who can free us from our sin.

We prayed there on the street. I prayed that God would reveal Himself to Randy in a big way, and that He would get this man off dead center and into a close relationship with Him. I asked if there was anything else I could do for him. Randy said he didn't have any money, so I gave him everything that was in my wallet. It wasn't much, just five bucks. Then we shook hands parted.

I prayed for Randy as I walked away. I don't know whether I said the right things, or whether I said too much or not enough. He was a discouraged man, someone beaten down by his own sin. I pray that God will lift him out of that pit.

And one more thing: I have the name of the halfway house where he eventually will be staying. I'm praying for God to tell me whether there's a next step.

Scripture: "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

Day 51: A security guard

I saw him from a distance. He was walking in front of a building, long since vacated for the day. He clearly was a security guard, with his white shirt and badge. As I walked his way, I thought how much of a boring job that had to be – at least to me. Maybe he loves it.

I circled around the other side of the building and intercepted him on the back side. “Can I ask you a question?” I asked. “Can I pray for you?” He looked at me a little unsure but a little amused, too. “Did you?” he asked. I laughed at that and told him that no, I hadn’t yet prayed for him, but I wanted to. He agreed, and I prayed.

I asked him if there was anything more I could do for him, and he said no. We chatted for a few minutes longer. His name badge said William, but he shook my hand and told me it was Bill. It was a quiet night, for which he was grateful. The weekends can be rowdy. And then I left. He wished me well.

Day 50: A blue blazer

I rounded the corner and the old man was there, walking toward me. He was well dressed, wearing tan slacks and a blue blazer -- clearly on the way to some event in Old Town. He was probably 75 or even 80 years old, and he kind of looked like Dick Van Dyke. Only shorter. And he didn't smile.

I asked if I could pray for him. "What?" he said. " I asked again. Our faces were maybe six inches apart. He shook his head. "I don't need it. No. I don't." Then he looked at me -- "What do you want?" I told him I wanted to pray for him, just out of kindness. "No," he said again, looking back at me and continuing on his way, kind of fumbling through the words. "I don't need it. No I don't." And that was it. He walked away. And so did I.

I prayed later that someone would be there if ever he did need a prayer.

Day 49: An old truck

A restful Sunday with the family. It got to be about 9 p.m., and I hadn’t fulfilled my project for the day. I drove first to the gas station, and not finding an opportunity there (or not a good one), I drove to Wal-Mart. For a minute while I was parking my car, I’d decided to pray for a greeter. Wal-Mart greeters need prayer, too.

But there was a guy standing next to his truck just a couple of stalls over, apparently waiting for someone. So I called out to him just as he was about to get back into his truck. It was an old red Chevrolet. The guy was no more than 25 years old. He had the look of a country boy, ball cap and all. He was smoking a cigarette. He stepped out toward me as I walked up to him.

“Can I pray for you?” He barely hesitated: “Yeah.” So I prayed for him. After I’d finished, I asked if I could do anything else for him. “Nope, that’s it,” he said. He had a serious look to him, but friendly – if that makes any sense. We shook hands then, and I left.

I found myself in Wal-Mart then. Mary always needs something there. So I called her: dishwasher detergent and trash bags. As I talked to her, I noticed the adrenaline rushing through my legs. It’s a phenomenon that hasn’t really left – the rush that comes in stepping out. It may not be as severe as it was at first, when it sometimes felt crippling. But I remember it always being there, sometimes before I talk to someone and sometimes after.

It’s a good confirmation that I’m still well out of my comfort zone.

Day 48: At the Liquor Store

I left after dark, at the end of a long day, looking for someone to pray for. I wanted to be fast. One of the first businesses I passed was the liquor store. I drove by at first and then thought better of it and turned around.

There were no cars in the parking lot other than the owner’s. Not one customer. I was more comfortable with that anyway. So I walked in. The owner was in a back room on the phone when I came through the doors, and he started walking toward me, asking if I needed help. When I told him what I was up to, he put down the phone. I’m not even sure he said goodbye.

He was Hispanic but spoke very good English. His name was Willy. He was about 45 years old. His first response was to shrug. Then he told me he was Catholic. I said that was great. And then he asked where I was from. I told him I just liked to pray for people and wanted to pray for him. Finally, he relented. It didn’t take much convincing. We both bowed our heads, and I prayed.

Afterward, we had an interesting conversation. Perhaps he was lonely. Not a single customer came in during this time. He told me at some length how business was going. There was new competition just down the street. And another liquor store to the north. And another even farther north. At the same time, the economy still isn’t in great shape. He also talked about the changing seasons. It’s fall now, a time when beer sales tend to drop off, and liquor and wine tend to pick up a little bit.

I asked how he was doing financially. He said OK -- “By the grace of God.” His whole family is Catholic, he explained. Willy’s parents were from Mexico, but he’d been born in El Paso, Texas, and eventually moved to Wichita. His father was in the Air Force but had died 11 years ago. His mother passed away last year.

Willy asked about me, about whether I was married and whether I had children. He also was curious about my prayers for people. He said it caught his attention – certainly not something that happens every day. But he said people will remember things like that long into the future, even if they didn’t like it at first. That’s like your “fingerprint” in their lives – so long as you treat people the right way.

It was encouraging there in the liquor store, listening to this thoughtful man talk about his faith and about Jesus. It wasn’t really what I expected. Anymore, of course, I never really know what to expect. But I pray that he’s right and that God’s fingerprint is left on every person I talk to during this project.

Day 47: The mailman

I was walking down the street. It was virtually deserted. Then the mailman pulled up. He crossed the street and started emptying two mail boxes that were sitting there, not 100 feet in front of me. It was as if it had been planned that way. I'd never prayed for a mailman. And that's the ultimate All-American, good-guy profession. So I stopped next to him.

"Can I pray for you?" I asked. He just shrugged. He was about 50, and skinny. "I suppose so. I need all the help I can get." So I prayed, and he stopped his work for that moment. Then we shook hands, and I left.