That guy!

“Oh, that guy. Go pray for him.”
As I sit and wait for the plane in Port Moresby, this thought happens in my head. It’s like having a conversation in my head but I don’t initiate it, and instead I’ve come to know this type of conversation to be with God.
I ask nonetheless: ‘Is that really you God?”
– cause it would be really convenient if it was my own thinking, so that I don’t have to go out of my way and potentially embarrass myself…
The guy is one of a bunch of guys from – I’m guessing – Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand, Philippines… I cannot tell the difference but these are absolutely beautiful people.

So yes, I know this is God. He has spoken to me often enough for me to recognize His voice. Not that it is an actual audible voice. To me, it is like thoughts that are so different from my own that I recognize them, engage with them. Q & A in a way, or conversations. At other times neither of us says so much, but both He and I are “there” and it is precious, dear, and they are among the most valuable experiences I have.

I postpone my conversation with the guy that God pointed out.
Not convenient just yet. I’m wondering if I am really worried about what people would think, and my conclusion is that I don’t, because God is just too near, there and then. It’s more about what He thinks of me, than what others think of me.
I go to the rest room and change my PNG outfit of flips flops, shorts and a T-shirt with jeans, woollen socks and a shirt; I’m going back to Norway after all.
As I come back to the waiting area for gate 2, I notice the guy is sleeping so I give it some more time. He definitely will be on the same flight.

And that flight is about half full, so that gives me a good opportunity. Food comes and the trays are collected again, and I make my way over to where the guy is sitting.
I tap his shoulder and ask him if it’s OK if I talk to him for a while. He is somewhat surprised but pleasantly so.

“You see,” I proceed, “I am a Christian and I don’t know about you, but I think God wants me to pray for you.”
He is all curious, and we engage in a conversation of sorts, as his English isn’t very good. TJ – his name – explains he is from Indonesia (ah, another option yes) and my Indonesian is limited to Bami Pangang, Nasi Goreng and the other words that have become part of Dutch culture and language.
So I try to keep it slow and easy.

I pray a short prayer for him, for him to see the future God has for him, and he invites me to sit next to him. We chat for a while (he is a pipe cutter, married, 5 kids), and I try to explain the best response in the world for parents when their kids ask the “why” question: what do you think yourself?

As I go back to my seat some time later, I sense that this conversation wasn’t very profound according to my mind, but it was profound according to my spirit.
I can’t escape the feeling that this was about me too, more than I think.

Thank you TJ for your grace.