Bread, Books, and the Brokenhearted

Today I was in Panera, having lunch and studying for the Women's Experience. I'll be teaching on forgiveness, and I wanted to take some time to go over the notes and prepare. So there I sat, computer, Bible, and notes spread out before me. To my right side was a book called Total Forgiveness by RT Kendall. I ordered it from Amazon last week to help me prepare for the teaching. I've read it before, maybe 5 years ago, and as I was reading it this time, it really ministered to me.

So I was sitting there, and suddenly a figure loomed over me and said, in a loud voice, "Wow you look comfy! What are you doing?" I looked up, half expecting it to be someone I know, the other half of me feeling as if I was in trouble for propping my feet up on the other side of the booth. I straightened up. A lady I did not know stood there, smiling at me with warm, questioning eyes.

I'm not the type to talk to others that I don't know in public. I'm usually on the defensive. But this woman seemed so interested in what I was doing.

"Are you writing a book?" she asked. I shook my head. "A paper?"

"Well, sort of," I responded. "I'm studying about forgiveness. I'm teaching on it next week at church, so I'm just preparing." I held up the book I was reading.

"I see that," she said. She asked me which church I attended, and I responded and invited her to our services.

"Do you live in this area?" I asked.

She looked to the side. "Long story. Let's just say I live all around here." She placed a paper on the table and instructed me to write directions to the church from 192 and she'd be by to pick it up later. I bent my head down to write, and she left the table but returned very quickly. She sat on the other side of the booth. I was taken off-guard.

"Can we pray?" she asked.

"Uh, sure." I didn't know if she wanted ME to pray, or what. I bowed my head.

"I'm not that good at it," she said. Then she began to pray. In a hesitant, unsure way, she asked God to send people in her life to encourage her, to help her, and to support her. I found myself opening my eyes every few seconds, checking to make sure that my iPhone and wallet were still there. Was this lady running a scam on me? Who comes up to someone randomly and asks them to pray, really?

"I moved down here a little over a year ago in my van. You'll see it when you go out to the parking lot. Can't miss it. I bought a year-long pass to Disney, and for the last year, that's where I've gone every day. I guess you could say I'm trying to find myself. Well, the pass ran out..."

I got it. She was homeless, jobless. Living in her van and passing her days in Disney, "the happiest place on earth," in hopes that she could attain happiness despite her inner bankruptcy.

"Ya know, if I could do what it says on that book," she motioned toward Total Forgiveness, "then I wouldn't be in this mess."

She then shared with me some details about her past, and I realized that this lady wasn't scamming me. She was looking for a friend. For hope.

I asked her if she knew Jesus. I assumed she did from the prayer we shared, but I wanted to check. She assured me that she did. I explained to her about God's love. About how, apart from knowing God's forgiveness, it wasn't in our power to forgive anyone, and how, in light of the way God looked at us in our most shameful, dirty moments and, knowing all of them, still chose to love us and let our offenses go, we had no choice but to forgive.

"Do you like to read?" I asked. She motioned her hand, so-so. "Why don't you take this book? I think it'll help you."

She smiled. "There's something different about you. I can see it in your eyes," she said. "I look into a lot of eyes. You eyes have a sparkle. Something special. You took the time to talk to me. You let me sit here."

I looked down, ashamed that, a few moments ago, I had silently questioned her motives during my open-eyed prayer. "A few years ago, I was in the same place you are. Unable to forgive. But God's worked in my life. And I'm a different person."

She thanked me. "I'm gonna try to come to your church. I'll talk to you later."

I don't want to analyze this conversation, because I feel that to do so would rob you of making your own conclusions about this exchange. But I will tell you that this conversation was the most organic, natural ministry moment I've ever had. And I'd like my life to be filled with more moments like these.