I took my son to McDonald's the other day. I didn't want to take him to McDonald's, but we were having a special daddy-son day to celebrate his fifth birthday, so he got to pick the place. I tried to convince him that he wanted to eat at a pizza buffet, but he knew he would get a free toy at McDonald's, along with an hour or so in the indoor play area, so he wouldn't budge on the issue.
As we sat down with our food to eat, another man with another young child, a girl who looked younger than my son, sat down nearby. I overheard her tell the man--whom I later learned was her grandfather--that they had to pray before they ate. This reminded my son and I that we, too, needed to pray prior to eating. So we did. And they did. And our two tables ate at about the same pace, and we all ended up in the play area at about the same time. My son cautiously entered the maze of French-fry-grease-coated plastic tunnels into which the little girl had already charged. I sat down at the last empty table while the little girl's grandfather stroked his chin and paced in a worried manner, constantly craning his neck to peer into the tunnel windows to catch a glimpse of his granddaughter. I ignored him. I am on my third kid, and remembered my own worry the first time my eldest had climbed into those tunnels--before she was even two. She had gone inside and we didn't see her for over 20 minutes. (She is still alive.)
Just to pass the time, I started praying for the people in the play area. I looked at every single person, every boy and every girl and every adult, and prayed over them from my seat, that they would experience God's salvation. I prayed for the grandfather and the little girl last; I already assumed they were Christians, so I wasn’t as worried about them, but I had overheard him tell someone that she had leg braces and couldn't walk very well, which was why he was distraught over her time spent in the tunnels. I had already felt the presence of God as I prayed over other McPatrons, but when I started praying for the little girl and her grandfather, the Holy Spirit told me to approach the man and pray for him and the little girl.
Instead, I kept praying quietly--ceaselessly but also motionlessly. I wanted to boldly approach the man, but suddenly I thought, “He's going to think I'm crazy.” I wanted to do it, but I kept going through a mental list of reasons not to. After about 30 seconds of this inner-battle, the grandfather (Barry) approached me.
He told me that his granddaughter’s name was Abby. She was born with stage four brain cancer. St. Jude's Children's Hospital had sent her to a hospice because they said nothing could prevent her from dying in less than a month. They found a surgeon who performed brain surgery on the infant and cut out the cancer, and followed it up with chemotherapy when she was five weeks old. It is a miracle that she is alive at all. Now, she's been cancer-free for four-and-a-half-years. After I heard the entire story, and had heard Barry give glory to God several times, I boldly stood up and told him, “I felt earlier that the Lord was leading me to pray for you.”
I am thankful to God that he caused Barry to come approach me and made it easy for me to pray with him, but I can't help but think about how much more rewarding the experience would have been if I had stepped out in faith the moment God had impressed His will into my heart. After that initial faith-filled step, it would have been a breeze. I have been praying that God will give me another chance, and that next time I would immediately obey when God tells me to share His love with a stranger.
