Mark Pritchard
Management
Central Washington University
The abstract was written, the Powerpoint slides done, so it seemed like just another conference trip that so many of us take each year. With the prospect of ‘free-time’ ahead I began by praying about a ‘good’ book to read on the flights and settled on “Can Man live without God?” by Ravi Zacharias.
A Good Book
My flight into Chicago went smoothly enough and I had covered several chapters before being joined by another passenger on the connection to Montreal. I had taken a break from reading and the book was lying in the middle seat when the fellow in the adjacent seat picked up the book and began a conversation by commenting on the title. I mentioned I was enjoying the book and we continued talking as he continually thumbed through the text, rarely putting it down.
I found out that he too was an academic, but in psychology at a Midwestern university. “I was born a Muslim,” he confided, “but did not always believe in God”. And then he began to relate a story any father or mother could identify with.
His young son had been in the hospital with a severe case of asthma. During the dark hours after midnight the attending physician told him to prepare for the worst. Another boy with asthma sharing the room with his son had just died, and his own son’s condition was deteriorating quickly.
God, Save My Son!
“I walked out of the room overwhelmed” he said. “In a bathroom at the end of the floor I tried to pull myself together, but could not.” There, falling to his knees he cried out, “God, save my son!” Still weeping he rose, washed his face, and attempted to gather himself before returning. He wanted to be there and hold his son’s hand through to the end. As he made his way back through the corridors, the attending physician came hurrying breathlessly down the hall. “He–he’s going to make it,” said the doctor.
“It’s hard to explain,” my new friend related. “But all I could think to ask was when? When did he turn the corner?”
“Things changed suddenly, just a few minutes ago,” explained the doctor.
“I know it seemed like a strange question to ask,” he related “But the timing, the change, I just knew God had saved my son.”
I didn’t feel awkward shedding tears with this stranger. All of us can relate to loss. But another story came readily to mind. “Don’t apologize for wanting to know when,” I began excitedly. “We all want confirmation. Your response is similar to another’s, in the healing of a royal official’s son.”
I then explained how that man had begged Jesus to come and heal his son who was close to death. “Your son will live,” Jesus replied. While still on his way back, the man’s servants met him with news that his boy lived. “When did my son get better?” he asked. “The fever left him yesterday at the seventh hour,” they replied, and the father realized this was the exact time he had asked Jesus to heal his son. So, he and his entire household believed (John 4: 46-54).
A Gentle Voice Nudged
Our flight was landing as my fellow flyer became quiet. “That’s in there?” he asked. I nodded. “I see you know your bible,” he concluded. We all began deplaning as a gentle voice nudged, “Give him your book.”
I would like to say I responded instantly but must confess to being a spiritual pygmy, complaining inwardly that I was yet to finish it. The moment passed quickly enough. My companion said farewell and left to catch his connection. I followed several minutes later knowing I’d missed an opportunity. On my way to another part of the terminal I ducked into a restroom, and was surprised to see my friend again. I quickly asked if he’d like the book we’d been discussing and left it with him.
After this experience, I view my conference activity differently. I believe that as Christian academics our call sometimes means that, like Philip, we get to pull aside and share the good news about Jesus with other travelers (Acts 8: 26-35).
© 2008 Mark Pritchard Used by Permission of Faculty Commons