It was dusk on a Monday evening after a long Fourth of July weekend and I had a five-hour drive ahead of me. Due to some last-minute errand, I approached the interstate by County Highway 1, not my usual route. At the end of the on-ramp stood a man in his early twenties. I almost drove by, hesitated, then stopped—exactly what I tell my children not to do! I didn’t know it, the young man didn’t know it, but we had a scheduled appointment.

As he entered the car, I noted his appearance to be more haggard and scruffy than I’d anticipated, causing me a bit more apprehension. Where was he headed? He described a suburban Minneapolis neighborhood. I was going his way. I didn’t offer it immediately, but I realized I could take him all the way home without taking much of a detour myself. We were complete strangers with seemingly nothing in common, but we were faced with three uninterrupted hours together. Might as well talk.

He was very grateful for the ride, as he’d feared not being picked up at all. What was he doing there? He’d been on his way to visit some friends for a weekend party, but was stopped and arrested for drunk driving—not his first offense. His car was impounded and he was jailed. Unable to reach his lawyer, too ashamed and too afraid to call his parents, he’d spent the long holiday weekend in jail. Released that evening with no car and no money, he’d walked the several miles out to the interstate. If he didn’t make it to work the next morning, he feared he’d lose his job. He had “a history” with his parents, with his boss, and with the law. He felt that his whole life was falling apart.

There can a sense of safety in opening ourselves up to strangers whom we’ll never meet again. So he did, and I did. I realized we had some things in common, and I shared them with him. I talked about the heavenly Father who at great personal cost paid the price for the failures of people like us who had disappointed him, failed him, even betrayed him.

We talked about the young man’s life. He raised some questions about the Bible and expressed an interest in joining a Bible study group. As we finally neared his parents’ house, I asked if I could pray for him. He seemed to appreciate it. Before saying good-bye, I encouraged him to walk into the office of the church down the block and ask if there was a Bible study he could join.

This was not normal behavior for me. Just walking up to a stranger and talking about Christ? No way. But engaging a person in conversation, showing interest in them and seeing where the Lord takes us? Yes, maybe I could do that.

Divine appointments? I’m sure I’ve missed way too many. But I believe they are scheduled for us, probably less often with strangers and more often with people we already know, maybe even loved ones. How may we see and grasp these opportunities? Ask the Lord for awareness, courage, and love—to view people through his eyes, to initiate a friendly conversation, and then just go where he takes us.

By Brent Juliot

Rev. Brent Juliot is Editor of Faith & Fellowship Magazine, teaches math at Hillcrest Lutheran Academy, and serves as senior pastor at Stavanger Lutheran Church in Fergus Falls, MN.