When I spoke to the airline representative who said we would have a seat on the flight, I felt as if God had answered our prayers. Although my dad and I would not have seats together, we had found a way home! What a joy to walk down the jet bridge, able to exit an overcrowded airport that was unusually warm on a sweltering summer day in July. As we made ourselves comfortable in our newly assigned seats, a woman sat down beside me. We made small talk, comparing notes as to how many delays we had experienced and what our final destinations were.
On this particular flight, I knew that everyone was weary, having spent too much time in the airport that evening. Fearing I would be “that” person who talks incessantly throughout the entire flight, I briefly hesitated in striking up a conversation with this lady beyond the initial customary small talk. Yet in my heart, I knew I was supposed to speak to my seatmate, despite the negative reaction I might receive. I also knew we had a relatively short flight from New York to Atlanta, so if a conversation was to begin, it needed to begin almost immediately.
Thankfully, I listened intently to her introduction, recalling that she was heading to North Carolina. My parents and I spent nearly two decades vacationing at River Valley Campground in Cherokee, North Carolina. It was a tremendous blessing to have a permanent campsite across from a beautiful waterfall, which my mom affectionately referred to as “our waterfall.” Since my seatmate was heading home to another town in Western North Carolina, I decided this common ground would be the perfect basis for a conversation starter. It was not too long before I recognized that this so-called “idea” was not mine at all, but the fulfillment of God’s divine inspiration.
After an enjoyable conversation about notable locations in both North Carolina and New York (her work schedule allowed her to split her time between the two), I soon realized the plane had begun its descent. I felt led to give her one of my Gospel tracts on which I have written my testimony of how I was born dead and raised to life.
Words cannot adequately describe the rest of our time sitting beside each other, but as she read my story, tears fell from her eyes. What a humbling experience to know God used my testimony to minister to her heart in such a special way. While I may never see her again on this earth, I pray God sends someone to water the seed I planted that evening while cruising at an altitude of thirty thousand feet. I would count it a joy to meet her again in Heaven one glorious day.
Encounters such as this one teach me how important it is to listen to the still, small voice of God Himself. There are times in our lives when we become too busy, too overwhelmed, or too stressed even to pay attention to the Lord’s leading. Even amid countless delays, we can rest assured that God will help us see the reason for the temporary disruptions. If we ignore His voice, we could miss unexpected blessings, and others around us may miss the opportunity to meet Jesus Christ, the Savior of the world.
If we do not tell them, who will? We cannot expect our pastor or local missionary to speak to every single person on earth. That notion is essentially preposterous. Nor can we place this monumental task in the hands of our fellow congregants. Some of them may never encounter the people we see at our workplaces, our neighborhoods, or our local supermarkets. It is up to you and me to share the Gospel of Jesus Christ with everyone we meet. God places people in our path for a reason. We cannot afford to disregard His gentle leading. We need to speak words of life everywhere we go. Let us hold nothing back as we give our all for Jesus Christ!