Talk to him.
The words oozed through Kiana’s soul and seeped through every worming hole of objection in her heart. She released a frustrated sigh and took a sip of her caramel macchiato. The phrase hadn’t stopped tormenting her since the man had settled into the cozy Starbucks booth with his laptop and espresso a few minutes earlier. He sat in a semi-secluded corner diagonal from Kiana’s center-room table.
Just ignore it. She challenged herself. It’s probably not what you think it is.
But it hit again. Stronger.
Talk to him.
Carefully – casually – Kiana glanced over her book and did her best to study the random stranger through her peripheral vision. Clean clothes, non-wrinkly t-shirt and jeans. No beer stains, no cheetos residue from yesterday’s lunch. Well-groomed, with nicely styled hair. No traces of grief, resentment, or bitterness in his expression. Outwardly, he appeared stable enough.
He couldn’t be the reason she was here.
Her first message that morning had been startlingly clear. Somehow, she would be meeting someone at the coffee shop who needed her help. She didn’t quite understand the message, but she didn’t doubt it. She’d received similar missions before.
But this guy had no earmarks of one who was needy or distressed. So why the repeated –
Talk to him.
Kiana shifted, uncrossing her legs and then re-crossing them again. She turned back to the book she had been reading, awaiting her next instructions. The next words on the page caught her eye ... and her breath.
“If you debate for a second when God has spoken, it is all up. Never begin to say – ‘Well, I wonder if He did speak?’ Be reckless immediately, fling it all out on Him.”
No ... way. God, is that really You speaking? She was shell-shocked, grappling for an excuse. But, Lord, he’s ... I mean ... well, I’m not qualified to witness to this guy. He won’t take me seriously. He’ll probably think I’m coming on to him!
But the air was silent. The verdict was final. There was nothing but the repeated messages and the quote she had just read ringing through her consciousness. If God has spoken ... never debate ... be reckless ... fling it all out on Him.
A jittery feeling tingled through her veins ... and it wasn’t from the coffee.
Keegan stared at his laptop, attempting to devour as much of his online theology course as his brain would allow. And that wasn’t much. Try as he might to rein in his thoughts and focus on his nearly overdue assignment, they always managed to escape his mental lassos, fluttering like an un-caged parrot back to that same topic.
The mission partner he was soon to meet.
For months he had been praying, had felt God leading him to pray for help. Now, in the midst of his studies, the heart-tug towards prayer was again unmistakable.
Dear Lord, His eyes remained fixed to the computer screen, the rest of his being fixed on his Savior. You know the need I have for a ministry partner, and I trust that You’ll provide. Please send him soon, Lord.
“Workin’ on a doctorate?” The voice was unfamiliar, but it came from nearby. Keegan gazed up to see an attractive, wavy-haired brunette standing a few feet from the booth where he was sitting, a tentative yet sweet smile playing at her lips. She was looking straight at him.
Raised eyebrows rippled into a furrow of confusion. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
The woman laughed slightly, glanced at the tile floor and then back at him. “No, it’s just ... you seemed to be concentrating so hard, I thought you should be earning a degree for it.”
Keegan chuckled. “Master’s degree, actually.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened. “I was partially joking.”
They laughed together this time.
“Well,” she continued, “I hope it’s in theology, ‘cause I have a feeling God’s got some huge plans for you.”
Keegan stared at her, stunned. “What ... what makes you think that?”
“Well, you might think I’m crazy, but ever since you walked in, God’s been telling me to come over here and talk to you.” She shrugged, still smiling. “Sir, whether you believe me or not, I think God’s sent me to help you with something in your life. Maybe you could help me figure out what it is.”
A baffled laugh found its way from Keegan’s dropped jaw. “Actually,” he beamed. “I was just praying for a willing missions volunteer.”
Note: Quote is from My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers.
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