I'd driven by the liquor store thousands of times, since I was first able to drive. But I'd never been inside. So tonight, I walked in. It was about 9:45 p.m.. It had to be about closing time. The guy behind the counter was tall and skinny and about 45 years old. The rest of the store was empty and quiet. Outside, it was bitterly cold, close to zero.
I asked my question. His was a look of true discomfort. He asked me why I wanted to pray for him, and I told him about my mission. Then he said, "I'm good." That translates that he didn't need a prayer.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. For tonight, I'm fine."
I couldn't leave it at that, especially after last night, so I asked: "Are you a believer?"
He said he was, and I said that was good enough for me. But boy, I'd made him very uncomfortable in his own store. I didn't feel badly about this, however. After all, I was uncomfortable, too. I guess that's how God wants us to be sometimes.
But I did pray for him on my way home.
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