Over By The Drink Refill Station

I was sitting at the place where I drink iced tea and do some of my reading and writing.  One of the workers came by the drink refill station to tidy up and restock the area and we greeted each other.  I know this young woman simply as a casual acquaintance.   She is very friendly and she’s always smiling and bubbly and—I know this might sound like a corny word, but it’s true—vivacious. If there’s such a thing as being “vivacious”, she is.

She doesn’t have her usual smile this day, though.  And her greeting is not the same.  It doesn’t have the energy and enthusiasm.

I say, “How are you?”

She says, “Okay.”

I’m tempted to let the interaction go at that.  After all, I’m in the middle of writing some deep and profound words—hey, don’t laugh, it’s possible—and I’ve fulfilled the social obligation of being friendly and offering a greeting.  But something tells me that everything is not “okay”.  As I look in her direction, I notice that she has cast a glance over my way.  I have a sneaking suspicion—a nudging from God?—that she needs to talk to someone.

I say, “Has it been a long day?”

She says, “Oh, it’s alright…but…well…I don’t know…I guess things have been stressful, lately.”

“Stressful?” I ask.

She walks over to my table and begins to fill in the details.  I won’t provide all of that here, of course, but it involves the kinds of things that would result in stress and concern and worry and probably even a bit of fear for most people—the fear that comes with uncertainty.

As she tells me about one particular issue, I can see the fear on her face.  This is a face that usually has a big bright smile.  I’m saddened to see the fear.  She goes on to describe some more of the details and I can understand why she might feel fear.

She begins to talk a bit about God.  She knows I’m a minister.  I listen.  I don’t say anything.  (Sometimes, the very best thing we can do is just be quiet and LISTEN.)  She doesn’t talk long, she’s not on an official break.  But before she gets back to work she says, “Would you remember to pray for me?”

“Yes, I will,” I say. 

And I have been praying for her every day since that encounter several days ago.

Sometimes people tell me, “Dan, I don’t know my calling from God.” 

I would not presume to know the details of God’s calling on another person’s life.  And I am not, in any way, trying to minimize the importance of knowing your calling from God.  However, here’s a thought….perhaps you could consider PART of your calling from God to be this: bringing love and comfort and a listening ear and prayer support to those who are hurting or frightened.

If you consider this to be part of your calling, and if you listen carefully to others, you will find that there are always LOTS and LOTS of opportunities to minister in the name of Christ.  Sometimes those opportunities will even come at the drink refill station.