A year ago last week I boarded a plane for Dallas for a work conference. Well, I boarded one of 2 planes that would together take me to Dallas. As I waved farewell to my friends who had a direct flight (really?), I headed to my seat, for the one of maybe 2 times each year that I wanted to be left alone.
I was tired. The holidays had been exhausting; I had had many hard conversations. I was flying to my 5th city in 7 days. I wanted to be left alone. I had nothing left to give.
I had a middle seat between 2 men. No bother. I had brought a book, magazine, and my IPod, all of which I soon exhausted. I felt like a zombie, and I'm pretty sure I looked like one too.
When the plane landed in TX though, something had happened that I would not soon forget. I met Jon.
Admist all of my attempts to zone out, Jon had managed to strike up a conversation with me. He was next to the window, and he just seemed hungry to talk to someone. Not needy. Just hungry. As we tiptoed forward in conversation, I soon found out that Jon had just had a nasty divorce, was flying to TX to live with his sister, and had nothing more with him than the bag under his seat.
Enter my inner dialogue. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation right now. I think God's leading us to the gospel, but I don't know that I have it in me to have an intelligible conversation" (and yes, I would used the word intelligible even thought I didn't feel intelligible). But God opened the doors. It seemed like Jon was just happy to be talking to a smiling face, relieved to find some humanity in the world.
Out of energy to be creative, I finally just asked Jon that if he were to die that night, how sure would he be that he is going to heaven. His answer: "About 60%." I shared. I shared how God loved him, and this cop teared up. I shared how he was separated from his Creator, and how out of love, God had taken on his sin on the cross. I shared that God yearned for a personal relationship with him, but he couldn't have it by cleaning up his life. He had to just accept the grace, and enter into the relationship empty-handed.
His response: "That's really humbling." Jon ended up accepting Christ right there in row 11. He wanted to pray. He wanted the relationship. He wanted it right then even though people around us were listening in. After he prayed, he looked up and tearily said, "This changes everything."
There were 45 minutes left on the flight. What do we talk about now? We've already covered eternal security. As I listened, I got a glimpse of what God was going to do in Jon's life, and I heard God speaking to mine. Right in that moment, the moment when I realized Jon was laying down his old life for a new life, God spoke to me. He told me He saw what I saw. That all of the things that hurt my heart about the brokeness around me, they grieved Him too. The spiritual conversation I had with Jon (with no real suaveness of my own, but through God carrying me), that was the conversation I would die to have with so many friends and family. God saw that too, and He comforted me.
Jon and I exchanged names and said we'd find each other on Facebook. I've still never been able to find him. Too many Jon's with his last name... And his friend request has yet to light up my Notification bar. Sometimes this worries me. Did he get connected with a church? Did he get any healing from his divorce? Does he ever get to see his kids? But then I think of the God who met both of our needs in so perfect a moment, and I know that that God is taking care of Jon. He would not go just far enough to win him, only to abandon him again.
I write this because it has been a year, more or less, since my time with Jon. I look back on it as a stone-of-remembrance in my own walk with God, a time He spoke to me in such a sweet, personal, unsolicited way. I wonder if Jon is out there, and if he may read this... if I'll ever here from him, if he is walking with God. Apparently, these aren't the things for me to know, but if that conversation meant what I think it meant, then I'll see Jon in heaven, and we can swap stories then.
Happy Spiritual Birthday Jon. I pray you still experience the peace with God that you found on your first plane flight that day when you sighed, "I have peace. I have peace for the first time in my life."
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