One Tuesday morning while I was driving up to the church, I asked the Lord to bring someone into my world so that I could share my faith. I went through the day without much thought about that prayer. No opportunities seemed to surface.
That evening, a stranger walked into my back yard.
He and his buddy were brick laborers working on the house next door. They were tired and hungry, and their ride never showed up. I let them use my phone, but after several calls it was apparent they were stuck.
“I’ll take you home,” I said. “Where do you live?”
He hesitated before replying. “Columbia.”
Columbia was 30 miles away!
Well, I guess I hadn’t specified distance in my prayer.
I told them to jump in the truck and we’d head for Columbia. My oldest son Bill volunteered to ride along. As we rolled through the cotton fields south of town, the Lord reminded me of my prayer. “Well, here they are. You have about forty-five minutes. Get busy.” So for the rest of that trip we talked about the Lord, church, and their families. Nobody got saved, but my prayer had been answered. I got to share my faith with someone.
On the way home, my son Bill and I were discussing science and space. I told him I’d read that scientist believe there are 70 sextillion stars in the universe. That’s 70 million, million, million. That’s about ten times more stars than grains of sand on the world’s beaches. I marveled at the fact that when God promised Abraham children, He said he would have them like stars and grains of sand. At the time the simile seemed unbalanced in favor of sand.
Consider the following look at the Andromeda galaxy, which is a galaxy much like ours:
Each one of those pinpoints of light is a star just like our sun. And that’s only one galaxy. Last year, the Sloan Digital Sky Survey released this visualization of the other galaxies in our immediate corner of the universe. This time, every pinpoint of light is an entire galaxy like the one we just looked at up close.
The vastness of the cosmos started to overwhelm us as we drove into the dusk. With so many stars and such a big universe, how could God keep track of us? Bill and I tried to imagine our smallness.
He said, “We are easily smaller in comparison to the universe than an atom is to planet Earth.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “but here’s the really weird part. This morning I prayed for God to bring someone for me to witness to, and those two men walked right into my yard.
He really is a God of wonders.
No matter how small you are. He still knows your name.”
The stars shone as we pulled into our drive. I looked up and smiled. It was a great night.
Read Psalm 8:3-9 and Matthew 10:29-32:
When I look at the night sky and see the work of your fingers—the moon and the stars you set in place—what are mere mortals that you should think about them, human beings that you should care for them? Yet you made them only a little lower than God and crowned them with glory and honor. You gave them charge of everything you made, putting all things under their authority— the flocks and the herds and all the wild animals, the birds in the sky, the fish in the sea, and everything that swims the ocean currents. O Lord, our Lord, your majestic name fills the earth! (Psalm 8:3-9)
Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. “Whoever acknowledges me before others, I will also acknowledge before my Father in heaven. (Matthew 10:29-32)
Why not spend a few minutes thanking God for the relationship He chose to give us, and for the fact that no matter how big our world seems, He still knows your name.