I was at the gas station getting gas (legitimately this time) when a guy in a very large pickup pulled in next to me. He was an imposing guy, pretty stout himself, and I stepped over to ask him my question. He immediately agreed.
He told me he was a member of the Christian Off-Road Association. It's a group of people who basically go anywhere they possibly can in very large Jeeps. But instead of going off on their excursions with a case of beer, they keep it wholesome. Their website says this: "We’re a group of Christians who love the outdoors. Our goal is to build unity among Christians and have fun in the process. We want to share in great experiences while enjoying the world God has created."
I think that's pretty awesome. And when it storms, they help people out of the snow or wherever else they get stuck. Needless to say, he welcomed the prayer but wanted to deflect it away from him and to his uncle, Fred, who is in the hospital with cancer. So we prayed for God's healing hand.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Day 175: In the band
He was cleaning the windows of his car. He was about my age, wearing a green ball cap. I asked over the hood of his car whether I could pray for him. He looked at me kind of strangely as he finished wiping down the passenger-side window. "Why would you want to do that?" he asked. I told him simply that I try to pray for one person every day.
He considered this a moment, and then said yes. He came around his car, and I walked around a pillar to where he was standing. His next question surprised me. "Can you pray for a friend of mine?" Absolutely. He said his friend, whose name is Mark, was a sound tech in a major band that was having financial difficulty. The band was considering dropping Mark from the payroll. So we prayed, first for my friend in the green hat and then for Mark and his band's financial situation.
The guy in the green hat shook my hand then, asked me my name and thanked me. It was a good conversation. God has provided me with some great ones lately.
He considered this a moment, and then said yes. He came around his car, and I walked around a pillar to where he was standing. His next question surprised me. "Can you pray for a friend of mine?" Absolutely. He said his friend, whose name is Mark, was a sound tech in a major band that was having financial difficulty. The band was considering dropping Mark from the payroll. So we prayed, first for my friend in the green hat and then for Mark and his band's financial situation.
The guy in the green hat shook my hand then, asked me my name and thanked me. It was a good conversation. God has provided me with some great ones lately.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Day 174: A protest
We had left the hospital, where we'd found Mary's grandfather getting progressively worse. The broken hip has led to a number of other problems that the doctors can't seem to keep up with. We prayed for him again in his room, this time in the critical care wing of the hospital -- both Mary and I glad for his faith but worried nonetheless.
So we left that place, which was made mellow by the notion of the end of life, and were driving back toward the highway when we saw people protesting the the same thing, but in a much different way. Two men and a woman were bundled up, standing in front of a women's clinic, singing from a hymn book. One of the men was holding a sign, indicating this was a place that supported abortion.
We read about people like this a lot, and I've encountered many of them in my own work -- people who spend their lives actively trying to bring an end to abortion. For these, that meant sidewalk protests. So I turned our van around and stopped to get out to talk to them. They greeted me kindly, although I could tell they were a little bit suspicious of me at first. Probably rightly so. The war they're fighting has proven to be a dangerous one.
But when I told them I wanted to pray for them, they warmed up a little. I asked if they were Christians, which was a dumb question considering the hymn book and what looked like a rosary one of them was holding. They said I could pray for them, but the leader asked if I could wait until they finished singing their hymn. I hadn't realized I'd interrupted it. So I waited while they sang a song I'd never heard before.
A couple minutes later, a young Hispanic woman walked around the corner, looking for the door of the clinic. So I got to see my three protesters in action. They asked her what she was doing there. She was coming for a pap smear, she said, and I instantly was glad the protesters had a female among them who could tell the young woman about other clinics where she could go that wouldn't charge her for services. The young woman had said she was concerned about the cost.
Then the young woman looked at the sign the leader was holding and said she wasn't there for an abortion. Everything about her was friendly, and willing to listen to what they had to say. But the leader told her what he thought. "Don't go in there. There are other places that can help you. These people won't help you," he said.
Then the female protester gave the young woman a hug, and she walked off. The leader wasn't done, yet. "You're beautiful," he said after her.
And so I got educated. I don't know whether the young woman went inside or not because I was praying for them then. Afterward, the leader handed me his camera and asked that I take a picture of them under the sign of the clinic, which I did. Then I left.
So we left that place, which was made mellow by the notion of the end of life, and were driving back toward the highway when we saw people protesting the the same thing, but in a much different way. Two men and a woman were bundled up, standing in front of a women's clinic, singing from a hymn book. One of the men was holding a sign, indicating this was a place that supported abortion.
We read about people like this a lot, and I've encountered many of them in my own work -- people who spend their lives actively trying to bring an end to abortion. For these, that meant sidewalk protests. So I turned our van around and stopped to get out to talk to them. They greeted me kindly, although I could tell they were a little bit suspicious of me at first. Probably rightly so. The war they're fighting has proven to be a dangerous one.
But when I told them I wanted to pray for them, they warmed up a little. I asked if they were Christians, which was a dumb question considering the hymn book and what looked like a rosary one of them was holding. They said I could pray for them, but the leader asked if I could wait until they finished singing their hymn. I hadn't realized I'd interrupted it. So I waited while they sang a song I'd never heard before.
A couple minutes later, a young Hispanic woman walked around the corner, looking for the door of the clinic. So I got to see my three protesters in action. They asked her what she was doing there. She was coming for a pap smear, she said, and I instantly was glad the protesters had a female among them who could tell the young woman about other clinics where she could go that wouldn't charge her for services. The young woman had said she was concerned about the cost.
Then the young woman looked at the sign the leader was holding and said she wasn't there for an abortion. Everything about her was friendly, and willing to listen to what they had to say. But the leader told her what he thought. "Don't go in there. There are other places that can help you. These people won't help you," he said.
Then the female protester gave the young woman a hug, and she walked off. The leader wasn't done, yet. "You're beautiful," he said after her.
And so I got educated. I don't know whether the young woman went inside or not because I was praying for them then. Afterward, the leader handed me his camera and asked that I take a picture of them under the sign of the clinic, which I did. Then I left.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Day 173: Jesus saves
I was stepping through the slush of the parking lot as I watched him walking toward me. He was a young, skinny guy, wearing a plaid hoodie that covered his head. He had earbuds, and so he didn't hear me at first when I spoke to him. Then he pulled them out.
"Can I pray for you?" I asked. He hesitated, and then, "No. I'm of a different religion," he said. I was a bit surprised by that, most of the time expecting to find people around here with no religion rather than a different one altogether. So I asked him what his religion was. He told me the name, but I'd never heard of it and can't remember it even now. But I remember how he responded to my question about what it was all about. "It's a racist religion," he explained. "Racist?" I asked. He persisted: "Yeah. Well, it's more of a separatist religion. We don't believe the races should intermix."
This clearly was uncharted territory for me. And a bunch of garbage, for sure. But I wasn't there to argue. So I said the best thing I knew to say. "I just want you to know something," I said. "Jesus died for your sins. ... And he loves you very much." My separatist friend just looked at me. He apparently wasn't one to argue either. He just kind of nodded and walked off. I watched him go.
When I got to my car, I wondered if I'd handled it right. Was I too stern with him? Should I have brought up the whole sin issue? But in my heart, I felt the words were the right ones. I'd proclaimed Christ, and now it was up to that young man what he did with that information. And when the radio came on in my car, it was playing Jeremy Camp's song, "Jesus Saves." That's kind of been my anthem for this project because it's such an awesome message. I just pray that message will make a difference in the life of the guy in the plaid hoodie.
"Can I pray for you?" I asked. He hesitated, and then, "No. I'm of a different religion," he said. I was a bit surprised by that, most of the time expecting to find people around here with no religion rather than a different one altogether. So I asked him what his religion was. He told me the name, but I'd never heard of it and can't remember it even now. But I remember how he responded to my question about what it was all about. "It's a racist religion," he explained. "Racist?" I asked. He persisted: "Yeah. Well, it's more of a separatist religion. We don't believe the races should intermix."
This clearly was uncharted territory for me. And a bunch of garbage, for sure. But I wasn't there to argue. So I said the best thing I knew to say. "I just want you to know something," I said. "Jesus died for your sins. ... And he loves you very much." My separatist friend just looked at me. He apparently wasn't one to argue either. He just kind of nodded and walked off. I watched him go.
When I got to my car, I wondered if I'd handled it right. Was I too stern with him? Should I have brought up the whole sin issue? But in my heart, I felt the words were the right ones. I'd proclaimed Christ, and now it was up to that young man what he did with that information. And when the radio came on in my car, it was playing Jeremy Camp's song, "Jesus Saves." That's kind of been my anthem for this project because it's such an awesome message. I just pray that message will make a difference in the life of the guy in the plaid hoodie.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Day 172: Not needed
I was walking in Old Town and it was cold. My face felt frozen. His face already was.
He walked out the front doors of the Hotel at Old Town just as I was coming up the sidewalk. He was about 60 years old -- a short, round man with a scowling face. I nodded to him, but he looked away. So I stopped. "Excuse me, sir," I said. He turned back toward me, looking at me with eyes that were cold and that didn't get warmer.
"Can I pray for you?" I asked. He looked away then, and started to move away. "No," he said, "not needed." I stared at his back as he started walking. "Not needed?" I asked. So he said it again, "Not needed." And then he was gone.
It was a brief exchange, and nothing about him was friendly. Of course, I prayed for him anyway. For some reason, I get a lot of joy in praying for someone who doesn't want to be prayed for.
He walked out the front doors of the Hotel at Old Town just as I was coming up the sidewalk. He was about 60 years old -- a short, round man with a scowling face. I nodded to him, but he looked away. So I stopped. "Excuse me, sir," I said. He turned back toward me, looking at me with eyes that were cold and that didn't get warmer.
"Can I pray for you?" I asked. He looked away then, and started to move away. "No," he said, "not needed." I stared at his back as he started walking. "Not needed?" I asked. So he said it again, "Not needed." And then he was gone.
It was a brief exchange, and nothing about him was friendly. Of course, I prayed for him anyway. For some reason, I get a lot of joy in praying for someone who doesn't want to be prayed for.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Day 171: Not into it
He was bundled up. All I could see were his eyes when he looked at me. It had to have been about 10 degrees outside. He was filling up with gas when I pulled into the gas station and stepped around the pump to ask my question. He didn't want any of it.
"You'd be wasting you time," he said, turning away from me to twist his gas cap onto his car. I asked him why. "I'm just not into it," he said as he kept moving, now reaching for his car door. "I don't want any of that stuff. You'll have to go find someone else."
"I'll pray for you anyway," I said, wanting him to know that I really would, and knowing that might provoke him. "You can do whatever you want," he said. Then he shut his door. A moment later, we were driving away in opposite directions. I did pray for him, that God would wake him up.
Strangely, I had a real peace in my heart through this whole episode. Not even much adrenaline. It didn't feel to me to be overly dramatic, just sad.
"You'd be wasting you time," he said, turning away from me to twist his gas cap onto his car. I asked him why. "I'm just not into it," he said as he kept moving, now reaching for his car door. "I don't want any of that stuff. You'll have to go find someone else."
"I'll pray for you anyway," I said, wanting him to know that I really would, and knowing that might provoke him. "You can do whatever you want," he said. Then he shut his door. A moment later, we were driving away in opposite directions. I did pray for him, that God would wake him up.
Strangely, I had a real peace in my heart through this whole episode. Not even much adrenaline. It didn't feel to me to be overly dramatic, just sad.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Day 170: A prayer in a snowstorm
Leaving work wasn't easy. One of my co-workers said the hardest part was getting out of the parking lot, and upon arriving there, I found a guy stuck in the middle of it in his little car, his wheels spinning away in the snow. So another guy and I pushed him out. The driver then attempted to turn onto Douglas, but a little incline and a decent pile of snow stopped him again. So the other guy and I helped him change directions and head north instead. All the while the wind was numbing our faces and sucking the air out of our lungs. The snow was blowing sideways.
A moment later, I was sitting in my frigid car, which was being rocked by the wind, waiting for it to warm up and wondering why I didn't pray for either of those two guys. This wasn't a day to go driving around looking for someone. So I waited. Earlier, I'd seen a guy walking down the sidewalk along Douglas. Maybe there would be another.
Sure enough. He was headed west, the wind whipping across his body. He wore a hooded coat and a stocking cap. I stepped out of my car when he got close. "Can I pray for you?" I asked. He looked at me with that look I always get. "Why?" he asked. He was probably 30 years old, with a mustache and bad teeth. My own mouth already was numb. This was no time for questions. But I told him that I pray for one person every day.
So he said OK, and I prayed -- for warmth. A moment later, he shook my hand, thanked me and kept walking. I don't know where he came from or where he was going. I got back in my car and gunned it out of the parking lot.
A moment later, I was sitting in my frigid car, which was being rocked by the wind, waiting for it to warm up and wondering why I didn't pray for either of those two guys. This wasn't a day to go driving around looking for someone. So I waited. Earlier, I'd seen a guy walking down the sidewalk along Douglas. Maybe there would be another.
Sure enough. He was headed west, the wind whipping across his body. He wore a hooded coat and a stocking cap. I stepped out of my car when he got close. "Can I pray for you?" I asked. He looked at me with that look I always get. "Why?" he asked. He was probably 30 years old, with a mustache and bad teeth. My own mouth already was numb. This was no time for questions. But I told him that I pray for one person every day.
So he said OK, and I prayed -- for warmth. A moment later, he shook my hand, thanked me and kept walking. I don't know where he came from or where he was going. I got back in my car and gunned it out of the parking lot.
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