The windshield wipers swished frantically in the blinding rain as we headed for Austin, Texas. Phil had a conference, and I was going along to enjoy a relaxing weekend. Getting a later start than we planned and being slowed down by the rain had us reaching the outskirts of the city just as the darkness was closing in. Tired and hungry, I began searching for the seafood place where we wanted to eat. I took the side road where I remembered it being, but nothing was recognizable. I circled the mixmaster again trying to trace the location, assuming it possibly was no longer there. Frustrated after circling several times, we decided to head towards the hotel and find a place to eat along the way. Just as we passed through to the other side of the mixmaster, we spotted our restaurant; we hadn’t gone far enough. I turned into the crowded parking lot and heaved a sigh of relief as we finally exited the car.

Inside the small restaurant, people lined the chairs and walls waiting. Phil made his way to the restroom while I inched my way through to the one available chair. Looking around, I noticed an older man sitting several chairs down. "You are going to eat dinner with him," I softly heard. Wondering where that came from, I heard it again: "I want you to eat dinner with him." By now my heart was racing and palms were sweating as I wondered what I was going to tell Phil. Just as Phil appeared, the manager called the older gentleman to be seated. He walked in front of us, and as the manager took him to his table, the older man was whispering in his ear. After the man was seated, the manager came towards us and bent down and said, "That older gentleman would like for you to join him for dinner." Looking puzzled, Phil glanced at me just as I heard the word “Sure!” roll off my tongue. As we walked to the back of the small, crowded room, the older man was smiling. “So glad you joined me,” he gestured to our seats. Since this wasn’t our first time to have this type of experience, I knew God was orchestrating the whole thing.

We made the usual small talk, asked the typical questions, smiled appropriately and paid attention when he spoke. He was older, probably near 80 years old, and wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. The conversation was easy and almost seemed to steer itself; he was soft-spoken, kind and enjoyable to be around. Phil and I openly prayed over our meal and invited him to join us. Being an accountant, he talked about how things had changed with computers and his problems with reating a website. That’s when I had my opening—my ice breaker: “You know, these young kids today all know so much about computers; I bet there’s someone in your church who can get this thing up and running for you. That’s where I’d start.”

Tenderly, he replied. “I don’t go to church. I’m an agnostic or at least I think that’s what I am. I’m not sure God exists.” The door was now fully opened. The hurt in his eyes intensified as he unveiled a life of hurt, broken dreams and hopelessness. He told of being a church member, becoming the head of a church board of directors and working hard to live a good life but being met with tragedy at every turn. Death of children, divorce and loss of hope sent him far from God into a world of doubt and unbelief. Life failed him; the church failed him; and he failed himself. Mistakenly, he thought God had also failed him.

Tears filled his eyes as he selectively gave us just enough information to connect the dots of what he viewed as wasted years and a failed life. He knew all too well the pitfalls of religion and religious people, but knew very little about having a relationship with a loving, unchanging God. Carefully, we shared about personal experiences that were equally painful in our lives yet God had brought us through to a time of forgiveness and healing. He listened, hungry for truth and hope.

We sat, drinking our coffee and talking for hours. He shared; we listened. And when it was right, we interjected. Looking around, I realized where we were sitting was perfect. We were out of the mainstream traffic flow of the room and cornered off in a way that allowed freedom to talk privately. No other table in the room offered that. Even the music that was playing loudly when we arrived had been lowered to create a calm, quieter atmosphere. Just as the conversation was winding down, I asked him if I could pray for him. He nodded and grasped my hand. Phil reached for his other hand, and together we extended God’s love. Then I made a suggestion.

“Get a new Bible, one that’s easy to read like The Message, and read the Book of John. Take your time; ask the Lord to open your eyes and your heart to hear His voice. You’ve heard all the voices of this life trying to derail you; let God show you who He really is in your life.” He nodded. “I’ll do that.”

The manager brought the ticket and Phil took it. “It’s a privilege to pay for your meal,” he said. We rose to leave, and the manager of the restaurant tapped me on the shoulder. As I turned around, he said, “That was an honor to watch.” Surprised, I looked around and realized others were also looking. Even though we were discreet, many seemed to know and sense what was happening. “That was a divine appointment,” I whispered to the manager. “I agree,” he smiled. “You come back anytime!”

The manager followed the older gentleman to the door, patted him on the shoulder and invited him back. We walked him out to his car, gave him one of Phil’s cards with our phone numbers and took one of his. We committed to pray for him daily and asked him to call or email. He laughed; after all, it was his problem with computers that opened the door to a very intimate conversation.

As we reflected over the night’s events, including how many times we had circled the mixmaster, we knew with certainty it was a divine appointment; perfectly timed. God lined up all of the events from the time we reached Austin and started searching for the restaurant to the time we were waiting for our table. He positioned us to share His extravagant love. We got to share our own faith journey with someone who had struggled with his. We were all at the right place at the right time to be reminded that God is always pursuing His children. He doesn’t want to lose even one.