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.