The Miracle Bicycle

Three of us were in the town of Tremont, Pennsylvania. It was a hot summer day. A church from the nearby town of Bethel was having an event in a park in Tremont.

 It was sort of a Christian carnival, offering several attractions to the local people. They had basic medical screenings by nurses. There was a distribution of groceries, household, and baby products for free. There were free drinks and hotdogs. There were bands and individuals playing music. There were face-painters for the kids, balloons, and they were raffling off several bicycles.

The organizer, Pastor Ted, had invited three of us working in Youth With A Mission to have a “Prayer Station” at the event.

A Prayer Station is basically a table with a banner over it. We simply offer to pray for passers-by. If they say yes, we ask what they want prayer for. If they refuse… no problem, they continue on their way. It’s a way of blessing people.

It was a fun event, but Pastor Ted hoped the love, generosity, and fun would have a spiritual impact on some. There were about 200 people there.

My friends, Chris, Bill, and I set up between the hot dog stand and the music.

It started out slow, but after a while a middle-aged man approached me. His name was Ron.

“What is this?” he asked.

The man looked haggard and weather-beaten to me. My immediate thought was he’d been a hard-drinking man. He had that look about him. We talked for a few minutes. Ron was not involved in religion in any way. He was not religious but curious that we were there.

 “Can I pray for you?” I asked.

He replied, “Why not?”

“Any specific thing I can pray for?”

“No, just pray,” he said.

So I prayed a prayer of blessing over him.

When I finished, after about 45 seconds, we opened our eyes.

Ron said, “I haven’t had a prayer like that prayed over me in 30 years!” He seemed really excited. So was I.

Immediately he asked, “Can you pray for my son?”

“Sure, ” I said.

“Andrew!" He called to a boy of about 12 standing nearby.

The boy came over and Ron said to him, “This man’s gonna pray for you. He just prayed for me. It was really good.”

Andrew looked sheepish and did not seem at all excited about prospect of being prayed for.  I waited for Ron to give a nod and then I prayed a short prayer, in Jesus’ name, for Andrew.

I encouraged Ron to get involved in a church, and read his Bible. He seemed genuinely encouraged as we said our goodbyes.

Later in the day, they had the drawing for the bicycles. There were three bicycles. The first two went to an adult and to a little girl. They drew a name for the third one, a really nice white bike. The name they announced was Andrew!  Andrew went forward and claimed his prize. I clapped!

Later, as I walked back from the stage to the “Prayer Station” table, Andrew and his dad were standing off to the side, about ten yards away looking at the bicycle. Ron waved me over.

Turning to Andrew he said, “See Andrew. See what God can do! God answers prayers!” It was the unchurched man who was now preaching Christ.

I’m not saying that if you pray, God will give you a new bicycle. He could do it. He did it that day. He’s good.

But my point is that Ron was convinced that God had answered prayer that day. He was teaching it to his son.

We find God in unexpected times and places.

Talk to Him today.

He is near.

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 Lesson About Money

“And he called the twelve together ... and sent them out to preach the kingdom of God and to heal. And he said to them, “Take nothing for your journey, no staff, nor bag, nor bread, nor money; and do not have two tunics.” Luke 9:1-3 

“Please stand up if you want to relinquish your rights to reputation, your own plans, your finances, or anything else for the sake of serving Christ.” I felt an inner longing to literally give up my right to “my” money. If I was without money, could Christ meet my needs? Where I was at spiritually that evening in 1975 in Kona, Hawaii, the answer was a burning “yes!” I stood to my feet as Loren Cunningham, the founder of Youth With A Mission (or YWAM), prayed for all of us.

I’d moved to Hawaii a few weeks earlier. Looking for a job, and a church in which to practice my new found faith, I had met people from YWAM, and was in their School of Evangelism now, along with about 80 others. I had paid for my expenses at YWAM and had some money in the bank that I’d saved.

I had never been without money. My family was not rich, we were blue collar folks from a small town in Idaho. But I always had some money. Now, I was burning with excitement to trust God even if I had no money.

When Loren asked who still owed money for the school, hands shot up. One guy named Mike said, “I still owe $800.”

My heart leapt. I felt an impression to meet that need. If I gave Mike $800, I’d be down to zero, and I’d see if Jesus really could do what he’d said. But $800 was an unheard of amount for me to give! More so in 1975 when a gallon of gas cost about $.53[1].

Wanting to be cautious, I prayed, “Lord, if you want me to give $800 to Mike, when we get on the bus to leave tonight keep one seat next to Mike vacant.” I waited by the bus until everyone had gotten on. Then I boarded, and there was only one seat, and it was beside Mike!

The next day I withdrew eight one-hundred dollar bills and put them in an envelope. On the way to Mike’s apartment, I prayed, “Lord, let there be no one at the apartment.” When I arrived, none of the 5 or 6 roommates were there. I went in, slipped the unmarked envelope under Mike’s pillow, and left.

A couple days later, the students were given a chance to share what was happening. I sat excitedly waiting for Mike to speak.

He stood up and said, “I owed $802 on my school bill. A couple of days ago I found an envelope from someone under my pillow. It had $800 in it. That’s great, but that’s not what excited me. Last night two of us were in downtown Kailua-Kona talking to people about Jesus. As I spoke to one man, he insisted on pushing something into my hand. I told him, “We don’t want money,” but the man insisted.  Later when I looked I saw it was $2. I needed exactly $802, and the Lord gave me that precise amount.”

I remember the hair on the back of my neck standing up and getting goose bumps. God taught me a lesson about His ability to provide.

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[1] http://www1.eere.energy.gov/vehiclesandfuels/facts/m/2012_fotw741.html

Faith On a Street Corner

I've been having trouble the past few weeks coming up with inspiration for this blog. What clever topic can I present that will prove to people that Jesus is God and that the Bible is true. I’ve got to be honest, I don’t have anything clever to write.

Part of the problem is that I cannot prove to you that Jesus is God or that the Bible is true. If I convince you of that by proofs, then you would not need to believe. You have proof, - facts, so no faith is required. I cannot prove God or His Word to you in that way. He won’t allow it, and I don’t think it’s possible. If it was possible, then there would be no need for faith.

Last night several of us gathered on a cold Pennsylvania street corner to give out hot dogs and drinks to people. A crowd of maybe 20 people gathered and we cooked and gave out many hot dogs and drinks. In the midst of it, I said, “Does anyone want prayer? We’re here for that reason, can I pray for anyone?” 

Silence.

Later, another one of our “hotdog team” said to a man, “How about that hit and run case you told me about? Can I pray for you for that?” The man refused prayer. I have to admit, I chuckled at that. A hit and run case?!? And he DOESN’T need prayer for that?  If you’re not praying for that, then forget about the minor things of life.

Then it struck me. There is no faith here. People simply don’t believe that prayer works. They don’t believe it has any value.

They wanted the hotdogs but not the prayer.

Jesus said, “when the Son of man comes, will he find faith on earth?”[1]

Finally one man came forward, holding his bundled up little 6 pound newborn son, Jonathan. “I need prayer,” he said. I prayed for him, his wife, and his son.  I prayed for his son’s future. I prayed for the man’s father, who I also knew. I asked God to bless their lives. The very thing God wants to do. There was a little spark of faith on that street corner.

Early in the 20^th Century, missionary James Frazer wrote to the church in England from his missionary post in China: “What I covet more than anything else is earnest believing prayer, and I write to ask you to continue in prayer for me and the work here.”

To believe that Jesus is God and that the Bible is true, takes faith. To pray to God takes faith. May you exercise that faith in this coming week. You won’t be disappointed.

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[1] Luke 18:8 (Revised Standard Bible)

The Block

A local church invited several of us to join them for a special Sunday effort to reach out to the community. I ended up with a gentleman named Paul going door to door in the heart of town. Old row houses and a few shops dotted the street. It is a run-down block. 

Our mission: to ask people if they needed prayer and to offer them a New Testament or a Nuevo Testamento  if they desired it.

Paul and I began our task.

First we met a girl in a uniform that stood in front of a fast food restaurant, waiting for someone with the key. Polite, but not interested. “Talk to my boyfriend around the corner.”

Next we met Willy. Standing down in a stairwell, his eye level matched our shoe level on the sidewalk. “Do you need prayer?”

“Yes, I need a new apartment. I’ve been a chronic alcoholic for 35 years. My apartment is across the street from a bar. I need a safer place to live.” So we asked the Lord for an apartment. Paul encourages Willy.

The next few houses, no response. No one home. 

A man and a boy on the street pass us, “I’m in a hurry!”

“Any prayer requests?”

 “For a new life,” calls the man over his shoulder. Then they’re gone.

Jose is next up, a polite young black man. “Pray for my job as a barber, that I’ll make some money today.” We do so. He accepts a New Testament.

A weather beaten old lady with a sickly yellow complexion walks by, “Can either of you spare a cigarette?”

“No, we don’t smoke.” She bundles off toward the corner store. “I’m not interested,” she sputters.

Next up is a small 4 unit apartment. A Latino man answers the door. “We’re Christians from a local church, can we pray for you in any way?”

“No.”

“Would you like a New Testament?” As the words leave my mouth I notice his wife behind him, she is wearing a burka. They are Muslims, I realize.

“No,” he replies, “but good luck and best wishes to you.”

“Where are you from?” I ask.

“No,” he patiently replies.

I feel disappointed that I didn’t recognize who I was talking to.  What could have been done differently? I notice their names on the mailbox, Atmanne and Houri.

More knocks. No one home. A Catholic lady, not interested. An old woman. No. A Latino man (or another Muslim?) … cordial, but not interested. A condemned building. Three youths who already have "lots of Bibles" and want us to pray for the economy.

Another door. The lady with the yellow complexion answers. “Yes, come into my living room.” (Now she is interested, but on the street she wasn’t Paul notes) The room wreaks of smoke. Her name is Pearl. We pray for her son who is in prison for child pornography.

She reads us a letter from her son in prison.

She shows me pictures of herself as a 15 year old girl with her step-father, and as a 10 year old. Same face. But so different. So sweet and hopeful in the pictures. Haggard and yellow now. What happened?

Brian greets us as we approach the church. On his way home from a service, carrying a Bible. His face is glowing. He’s smiling. Brian had completed rehab. He tells of how the Lord has changed him. So grateful. We pray. We hug.

The Bible says Jesus went about praying for the sick and telling the Good News of the Kingdom.