The other day, I was driving home and flipping through the radio and landed on a Christian radio station. It’s always a gamble with Christian radio cause you’re either going to get gold or garbage. I listened a minute longer than normal because the guy was talking about finding ways to serve and encourage soldiers, particularly in light of the recent events at Fort Hood. He was calling on people to pray for our soldiers, saying that prayer means a great deal to many of them. Couple this with the fact that we had a guest preacher this week who preached on prayer and said that in his lifetime he’s only had one person who has refused his offer to pray for them. Anyway, I remember thinking to myself, this is a good reminder, but I don’t know any soldiers in the area and we have none at Seven Mile Road.
So I’m driving to Starbucks yesterday (a.k.a. my office), and on the way, am praying that I would be obedient to the promptings of the Holy Spirit. I told God that I longed to be his servant, to meet anyone He wanted me to meet, and to say anything He wanted me to say. I sat down with my bagel and coffee (a.k.a. the rent I pay for my office space) and in walks in a soldier in uniform. And on top of that, the gentleman was a Muslim. He sat at the table next to me and we got into a good conversation. We talked about Fort Hood and even about what it is like for him in the aftermath of everything that has happened. I thanked him for his service. As he was leaving, he came over to shake my hand and I told him that I would be praying for him. But immediately I thought, “why not pray now?” So I caught up with him outside, told him that I was a Christian and asked if he would mind if I prayed for him. He gladly obliged and I asked Jesus to bless this soldier and his family. Perhaps I was more blessed by the moment than he was, but I was grateful to God for it.