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.