“Taxi!” The time and appeal of my lunch appointment made it an invincible priority. That’s when a young man approached and began telling me his story.
“Great, another guy who just wants money from me,” I thought to myself.
“I’m sorry, man, I can’t help you,” I interjected, staring over his shoulder at the approaching taxi. “I’ll pray for you.”
I jumped in and nodded goodbye, glad to have so easily avoided another beggar. Only I could not avoid the Spirit who crowded the back seat with me. His disappointment was in my marrow. I had treated that young man like a stray dog.
My heart was divided throughout lunch. It had unnerved me just enough to breathe-pray for a second chance. But I knew the odds of meeting the young man again were one in nine million.
As our group finished lunch, I heard someone call out to me on the sidewalk. It was him. And he was just as surprised as me. I ran to him. He said, “When I first saw you, I thought that you were a Christian and that I could talk to you.”
He wasn’t searching for money, but for another follower of Jesus. He had, in fact, began following him only weeks before. Too encouraged to remain ashamed, I gave him a Bible and we prayed together.
On that day, we both walked away pondering the Sovereign of second chances.