Jeffrey Scott Seavey

Driving home from Nashville a few days ago, the wife wanted to stop in Franklin to do a bit of Christmas shopping. Obedient to her wishes as I am, I make the detour and park. As we strolled along the square, I see an older man sitting alone on a bench. Being the sort who initiates conversation with strangers, I say jokingly: “You look like a man who is waiting for his wife while she spends his money.” He gives me a wan smile and replies: “I wish I was.” His voice cracks. “She passed away last November.” We stop. I extend a sympathetic hand. He shakes it and rises to greet us. Lauri asks him about his wife, and he tells us what a wonderful woman she was and of their 50 years of marriage. His eyes welling with tears, he says he comes to the square and sits on that bench daily to reminisce about her because it was their spot for decades. He seems glad to have someone, even strangers, with whom he can talk. We chat a bit longer, exchange numbers, and I ask him if we can pray for him. A believer, he readily accepts the offer. So, right there on the square in Franklin we pray for the Lord’s comforting presence and peace in his loss. We open our eyes and, at that very moment, a woman walks by hurriedly and reaches for the bench behind this fellow. Only I see it, and I think she might be stealing his phone which he had left on the bench when he rose to speak with us. I walk to the bench to investigate and see that she’s left a card, a little plastic dove glued on it, proclaiming the hope of John 3:16. I look up to see her far down the sidewalk, her brisk pace undiminished, placing them everywhere in her own evangelistic endeavor. God bless her for it. Lauri and I wished our new friend well and proceeded to shop. I bought a new vest at her encouragement — “It looks good on you” — and she bought some aromatic candles — “cinnamon vanilla.” But all the while we were thinking of this man and the seemingly coincidental nature of our meeting. The Lord had used us to visibly encourage him. I cannot tell you the number of times I have had such encounters simply because I spoke to a stranger: a taxi driver who told me someone had murdered his daughter; a waitress who cried when I told her she was doing a good job; a contractor who, just last week, revealed to me how the Lord had delivered him from meth addiction when I was sharing the Gospel with him; and a young woman who looked unsettled and I simply asked her what troubled her so. There are people all around you who carry secret burdens, and the Lord puts you in their path for a reason. Do you notice them? Or do you press on to “more important” things? Pray that the Lord gives you eyes to see them and the heart to minister to them. It will do you as much good as you do them.