Now that it’s summer, I get out and exercise with increased regularity.  Nothing remarkable, just enough cycling and jogging to drop my “winter weight” and get back into shape. 

A few days ago, I was jogging on a trail near my house.  As I ran around the loop, I continually passed an elderly man walking slowly in the opposite direction.  Possessed of a fairly outgoing personality, I often greet strangers with friendly remarks.  In this case, I would smile and say things like, “Keep it up!  You’re doing a good job!” or “Isn’t this where I hand the baton to you?”  He would chuckle and say a few words back.

Having finished, I was getting into my car when he pulled up in his pick-up truck and said, “Did you get your heart rate up?”  Sitting behind the wheel of his truck, his window was fully retracted and his arm rested on the door.  He smiled warmly.

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

He shook his head.  “I couldn’t do what you just did.  Running in this heat.”

“Well, I’ve got a few years on you,” I said, returning the smile.

“Let’s not get away, young man!” he said with mock anger.  “But you are right.  I have some accumulated mileage.”  He then went on to enumerate a number of surgeries: bypasses, stints, etc.  I decided that this might be an opportunity to share the Gospel, that is, the Christian message of hope. 

“It sounds like the Lord has been good to you,” I said.  Something like this is a good way to drive a discussion toward the spiritual.  It is something of a conversational fork in the road.  He may say something that indicates that he is already a Christian or he may say something that indicates he is not.

He looked thoughtful.  “It seems like someone has been looking out for me.”  I had my cue.  This was not the right answer for a Christian.  
He continued: “My brother and sister both died.  I think it is because they were ready.”

“Are you ready?”  I asked, shutting the door to my car and walking over to his truck.

“I don’t know.”

“I have a simple question for you: do you know Jesus Christ?”

“I’d like to think so.”  Wrong answer.

“It’s not like that.  Either you do or you don’t.”  I let that sink in before resuming.  “Do you want to know where you will spend eternity?”

He chuckled uncomfortably and gazed forward though the windshield.  “I’ve heard some say that you can know, but I’m not sure.”

I leaned in and spoke emphatically.  “Sir, you can leave this parking lot and know with certainty where you will go if you die.”  He looked at me, assessing my face, perhaps trying to determine my trustworthiness on such an important subject. 

“I have been a member of several churches,” he asserted.  This was offered as sufficient credentials for his heavenly acceptance.

“Not good enough,” I said.  “It has nothing to do with church membership.”

“That’s not what a preacher once told me.”

“Sir, if that’s what the preacher said, he was wrong.  Jesus said, ‘I am the resurrection and the life; he that believes in Me will live, even though he dies.’”  That means that if we confess our sin—that is, our imperfection and need for his mercy—God is faithful to forgive us and to extend to us the hope of eternal life.  So again, I ask: Do you want to leave this parking lot knowing where you will spend eternity?”

“Yes, I do,” was his simple and serious reply.

“Then I want to pray for you.”  He looked uncomfortably at the people passing by.

“Ignore them,” I urged.  “Besides, we don’t have to close our eyes or bow our heads or look like we are doing anything other than talking.  I’m going to pray first and then, if you would like to, perhaps you will ask God to forgive you of your sins and tell him that you accept what Jesus did on the cross for you.  Do you understand that?”

“I think so,” he said earnestly.  Just in case, I explained what Jesus did on the cross and his resurrection three days later and why it mattered.  He seemed to “get it.”

“Lord,” I began my prayer, but he stopped me …

“Oh, by the way, what’s your name?” He asked.

“Sorry.  I’m Larry Taunton.”

“Nice to meet you, Larry.  I am Winfield Jones.” *  He extended a warm hand to shake mine.  I then resumed praying.

“Lord, thank you for Mr. Jones and for his desire to know you.  I pray that you will reveal Yourself to him and let him know that you love him.”  There was an awkward silence, and then he started praying.  Whatever his initial reluctance to close his eyes and bow his head was, it was gone now.

“Jesus?”  It seemed more like a humble question than an address.  “As you know, I haven’t ever killed nobody or stolen anything, but I have sinned.  Of course, everybody’s done that …” 

I had to suppress laughter.  His prayer was sweet and sincere, but just in case God didn’t know it, Mr. Jones wanted the Almighty to bear in mind that he wasn’t an especially bad sinner.

“… Jesus, I ask you to forgive me and to give me eternal life.” 

Finished, he looked up misty-eyed.  “Young man, do you know what I just did?”

“You just became a Christian,” I said, patting him on the arm.

“I just signed my death warrant!”  He was smiling broadly.  Now that he was ready for death, he figured God might claim his soul at any moment.  And, well, the Lord just might do that.

“No, sir,” I said.  “You just signed your life warrant!”

We talked for a few more minutes and I gave him my name and number before he left.  I don’t know whether I will ever see or hear from him again, but he left that parking lot a changed man.  He entered it fearful and hopeless.  He left it a child of God, confident in his hope and his future.  Not a bad day on the walking trail.
 

*  This is not his real name.  I have changed it for the sake of anonymity.

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