An Afternoon on the Coromandel

One day when I lived in India, I was traveling down the East Coast by train. I often made that trip. It took 27 hours including an overnight, on the “Coromandel Express” passenger train.

I was in the state of Andhra Pradesh heading south. The Coromandel used to stop along the way to drop passengers and pick up waiting ones. On this day I was almost alone in my small 8 person section of the coach. About mid-day we stopped at one of the typical stations. Hawkers sold coffee, tea, snacks, and numerous other things. There was a din of voices as they shouted, “Chai, chai, chaiya, kofee, kofee, kofeeeee!”

A young boy entered my compartment, looked at the seat numbers, and sat down opposite me. We nodded to each other and said no more. We were both by the window, and no one else was in our section. After a few minutes, the long train began to roll forward toward south India and my destination of Chennai.

We rode for a while in silence.

At some point I started up a conversation with him. The boy, about 12 years old, spoke very good English. He was a Muslim. He was heading somewhere to do something, I don’t really remember. He was not going too far, relatively speaking for an Indian train. I think he was going to be traveling for 3-4 hours and would be getting off in another town in the same state of Andhra Pradesh.

I asked him questions about his family, his school, and other things. He asked me where I was from, what I was doing in India, how did I like India.

At some point, I asked him about his religion. He answered my questions about his Islamic beliefs and practices. He was very articulate.

Then it came my turn. I spoke to him about Jesus and how he had changed my life after I began to read the Bible in college.

To be honest, I don’t remember a lot of the conversation details. There was nothing said that stands out in my memory.

What I do remember vividly, is that this 12 year old was captivated by what I said about Jesus. It was magical. I believe the Holy Spirit was in that compartment. It was natural, not forced, not striving in any way. Just a relaxed, friendly exchange of ideas. We both talked. We both listened. Oh my, he listened! He was absorbing it! That is my outstanding memory of this event. I knew that what I was saying was piercing into his soul and mind. Light from above! I did not attempt to “lead him in a sinner’s prayer.”

Finally the train rolled to a stop. He gathered his things and got up. We shook hands and he got out. I encouraged him to learn more about Jesus if he got a chance. On the platform he looked up and we waved and realized how cool those moments had been.

The train moved ahead. I never saw him again.

I’ll never forget the magic of that conversation.

Meeting God in a Perkins

On July 1, 2015, my wife Lora and I were driving west on I-94 approaching Bismarck, North Dakota. We decided to stop in Bismarck and have dinner. We planned to drive further west to Dickinson and spend the night there afterward.

As we exited at Bismarck we began to see signs for the various restaurants that were available at that location. Lora’s eyes immediately caught sight of a Chinese place that featured a Mongolian barbecue. We both like Asian food. Lora loves it. She mentioned that option. I replied, “That sounds great to me.” I thought it was decided. As we approached the turning lane, Lora then said, “There’s a Perkins. Let’s try that.” I was mildly surprised, knowing her likes and dislikes. So I took a right in the parking lot which put us in front of the Perkins entrance. Even as I was turning I thought this is surprising. I hesitated briefly as I began to turn in, but she said definitely, “Let’s go to Perkins.”

We entered the restaurant and were seated at a booth at the window. The window was blocked by an exterior advertising banner. We sat down and got our menus. Lora left to the ladies room.

As she did, I sat facing the corner of the dining room. Two empty tables away from us, right in the corner, sat a family. It appeared to be mom, dad, and four kids, starting with a blonde girl aged about 13 on downward. They were in mid-meal. Mom seemed to be talking to them, in a somewhat serious manner, that made me think she was relating a story to them, or making a point to the whole family. I liked how she seemed to be relating to the kids.

Then I felt a surge of compassion for the family. I had a strong urge to pray for them right then and there. I silently prayed, still feeling this intense compassion. I prayed for their marriage, that it would be strong. Then I prayed for their relationship with the four children, that it would be blessed. As I finished these two short, sincere prayers, I had an impression that I was to tell them they were an awesome family. For whatever reason I did not act on that.

Lora returned. I didn’t say anything to her about what I’d felt. We talked about the menu.

The family was getting up as their meal ended, and mom and some of the kids left the table. Since I needed the restroom, I got up, and hoped to speak to the family on the way. I did see the blonde girl near the cash register. I thought of telling her “you guys are an awesome family,” but I didn’t. It seemed better to speak to one of the adults. I returned to our table without seeing either of them.

We decided we should change tables, as the banner totally blocked our view. We couldn’t see the waitress. Lora said, “Let’s do it.” She got up and I followed, and she went to the window table right beside the family. As we sat down, only the dad and an adolescent boy were still seated. Dinner was over and obviously they were just about to leave.

Once we were seated, the dad immediately said to us with a grin, “Do you want some free coffee?” He held up his pitcher. We laughed. As he and his son slid out of their booth and stood to go, he paused and talked about where they were going but included the phrase “We’re missionaries.”

I asked, “You are missionaries?”

“Yes, we serve in Russia, in the far eastern part of Russia.”

Being lifetime missionaries ourselves, I told him, “We are missionaries too. We work with YWAM (Youth With A Mission) We served in India for many years and now work at one of our mission’s training centers in the United States.”

Dad (Whose name was Steve) said, “Oh, my wife’s uncle works with YWAM in Mongolia.” As he finished that sentence, his voice trailed off as if he was trying to remember a name. He mumbled the word, “Simon.”

Surprised at a familiar name, I said, “Do you mean Bryan and Sandra Simon?”

“Yes.”

“We know them. They received training with us in Pennsylvania before they went to Mongolia. We had hoped to recruit them to work with us. But of course, we’re thrilled that they ended up in Mongolia.”

“We have been considering leaving our mission,” Steve said, “we’re looking into YWAM. In fact after we go to Seattle for my dad’s surgery, we plan to go to Colorado Springs to talk to YWAM about possibilities.”

I told Steve about my prayer for him and that feeling of compassion.

After a little more conversation, Steve walked away toward the exit, and seconds later mom (Amanda) appeared. She said, “So I understand you guys know my Uncle Bryan. They are a big reason why I am in missions. They have inspired me a lot.”

“They are wonderful,” Lora said.

Then I told Amanda about how I’d felt deep emotion and had prayed for them. I said, “You guys are truly an awesome family.”

Amanda shyly put her arms around the 13 year old blonde girl’s neck from behind, embraced her, smiled and said, “This really seems like God is doing something.”

Being in amazement, we both replied, “Oh yes!”

We talked a little more. Then they went out into the parking lot, and as we watched, began to organize the mini-van and kids to continue their trip toward Seattle.

I was very excited. “Think of all the bits and pieces that had to come together for us to meet them here today,” I said to Lora.

They had driven from Minnesota to Bismarck that day. We had driven from Green Bay to Bismarck with a lot of tourist stops on the way. We got to the restaurant about the same time. We oddly chose the Perkins. Even though we were sitting two tables away from them, I had this strong impression to pray and to speak to them. Lora chose to move to the table beside them. Steve started a conversation. He mentioned being missionaries. He said the word “Simon.” We work in the mission they are considering being a part of.

I wondered how does God do that? How does he control all these circumstances? He moved two families, total strangers, together for a meeting and some words of encouragement. His power was working and guiding, but we only realized it after the fact.

As we ate our meal and watched them prepare to leave from the parking lot, the young boy ran over to our table and said, “My dad said to give this to you.” It was a $25 Perkins gift card. Our meal ended up being about $20 and with the tip, it was covered. As they drove out, Steve leaned forward and waved, and I returned the wave, feeling a rush of emotion. We were pilgrims on a journey with God spending some meaningful moments together.

“Lora,” I said, “This morning, if I had told you someone would buy our meal tonight at Perkins in Bismarck, North Dakota, what would you have said?”

She replied, “No way, I’d have thought, … impossible!”

 As we paid, the cashier said, “How was everything?” Excited, I wanted to say, “The food was good, BUT I MET GOD IN YOUR RESTAURANT TONIGHT!” But I didn’t. I knew he had no idea. That miracle was for us.

The rest of our two hour drive to Dickinson that evening was spent in talking over the nuances of how God had arranged and orchestrated this remarkable meeting.

A Day I Will Never Forget

^“For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.” – Romans 10:13

Over the course of my life there have been some special days where the presence of God was made real to me in a very dramatic way. I want to share one of those.

Back in 1976-77 I was working with Youth With A Mission in American Samoa. During my first year there, an opportunity arose for me to visit one of the outlying islands of the Samoa chain. This island was in the Manu’a group, and I believe it was the island of Ta’u. My purpose for going was to show a film about the life of Jesus.

I left Pago Pago harbor on a small inter-island passenger boat and traveled overnight to Ta’u. Upon arrival, a group of about 10 burly Samoans rowed through the surf to meet our ship in a large wooden lifeboat. To get into the lifeboat I had to wait for the right moment. When a swell came through, the smaller boat rose up about even with the deck of the passenger ship and I stepped across into the lifeboat. The swell passed and we sank 15 feet below the deck. The Samoan crew skillfully navigated us through an “ava,” (cut in the reef), and we rode the surf right into the shore.

My hosts showed me to my room, a nice little house right near the beach. The only other memory I have of the house was that I was greeted in the bathroom sink by a large cane spider. Arrrggghhhhh!

That afternoon I walked down to the empty, pristine white beach. Leaving my colorful lavalava and rubber flip flops in the sand, I waded into the warm Pacific waters.

I am an Idaho boy. I didn’t grow up near the ocean. At the time I knew little about the sea or the ways of it. I was unaware of the rip tide at the beach on Ta’u. 

After swimming out about 30 yards, I treaded water for a few minutes, enjoying the beauty of the island, the beach, and the sea.

Deciding to return, I did a few strokes and then looked at the beach to gauge my progress. It was not closer. I tried again. Still no progress. Then I began to swim with all my might. A minute later, I checked and realized, I could not get back in!

At that point, an inner voice said, “Don’t panic.” I remember rolling onto my back, just floating and thinking. What should I do? A minute later I decided to roll over again and swim once more.

As I rolled over I had a clear inner impression. “Whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.” In the midst of rolling over to swim, I said out loud, “Jesus!” I then swam 4 or 5 strokes. I opened my eyes under the 20 foot deep water. I saw a coral head coming up from the bottom to a much more shallow depth. With very little effort I put my feet down on it. Far from the beach, I was standing on a coral head in 20 feet of water! It was neck deep but I was standing. I looked into the water again and saw another coral head a few feet toward the beach. I leaped/floated/swam toward it, and put my feet down on it.

In that way I basically walked into the shore.

When I got there, no one was around. I wrapped on my lavalava and put on my flip flops. No one knew what happened. But I did. God saved me that day. I will never forget it.