Talking to strangers about God is a muscle I don’t work very often. But I try to take the opportunity when it comes up.
A few weeks ago, I was working on my laptop in a library at a shared table when a man sat down diagonally from me. As he prepared to read and study, his phone rang or dinged, and he swore at it, fumbling to silence it. He looked at me and our tablemate, a woman napping on the far corner, worried the interruption disturbed us. It hadn’t. The woman got up, and the man tried to extend his apologies to her, but she left without a glance.
Thereafter, the man and I took turns eyeing each other, each wondering what the other was thinking of him. During one of my turns, I saw the man scoot his chair back, lean over, and put his hands together, eyes closed. Some moments later, he returned to his books.
Next, it was both our turns to look at each other. In the awkward simultaneity, we had to admit our mutual knowledge of the preceding events. He started to apologize, as he had to the woman, but I took no offense and instead said, “It looked like you were praying. Isn’t it a blessing that we can pray right after having sinned, er, blown up?”
I’ve thought about this before. Though I feel like I’m wearing a scarlet letter on my chest, it is a mystery of mercy that I can enter church the same morning I committed a grievous sin. Because of Jesus, there are no ushers at the front doors administering lie detector tests. How much greater is it, then, that in prayer I can enter the throne room of God moments after sinning against Him?
The man excitedly agreed, saying that his mom taught him the same thing growing up. We both walked away encouraged by this commonality between strangers.
At another library, eight years ago, a man came up to me and started to share some vague life circumstances that were weighing heavily on him. He was stressed, grieving, and beginning to doubt the goodness and existence of God.
He told me that five years ago, he wouldn’t have been talking like this. Though I didn’t say much, only listened and asked some open-ended questions, I replied that five years ago, I might not have been the stranger he needed that day. Five years prior, I was doubting my need for God, rejecting Him for my personal truths. Had we met five years ago, perhaps this man would have been encouraging me. We walked away thankful to have met.
I could draw out some parallels to make the encounters more of a “God story.” But I think that would misrepresent God. These were two moments of coincidence (certainly orchestrated by God) that served as a moment of simple encouragement between men who assumed they had nothing in common. We were in the right place at the right time.
We were working the right muscles so we could have the eyes to see and ears to hear the person in front of us.
– Scot Bellavia
