The Midnight Witness

While serving as pastor of a church in Oklahoma City, I was contacted by Brother Gilbert, a personal friend and pastor of a church in Duncan, Oklahoma. He invited me to serve as their evangelist for a one-week revival meeting.

I would have no daytime duties other than to pray and study in preparation for the evening services, he said. Gilbert offered to provide accommodations for me at his home, the church, or a local motel. He also said that if I preferred I could commute to the services from my home in Oklahoma City, or, he joked, I could even take all four options. After some prayer, I opted to commute to each service from my home. This would allow me to have more alone time for prayer and study in my own office where I kept my tools (books) within arm's reach.

The revival meeting began on Monday night. I was surprised at the attendance. Over 100 people gathered for that service, expecting God to do a work in their midst. They weren't disappointed. When the invitation to come forward was given, three adults came forward to receive Jesus Christ as Savior. Several more would follow during the week. Christians came, too, in good numbers, to pray for family and friends who didn't know Christ.

By Friday night the pastor and people were talking about continuing the meeting into the next week or as long as interest prevailed. Papa, a highly effective evangelist in his day, used to call that kind of meeting an "open end" revival, meaning it would go on as long as God continued to pour out His blessings upon it.

By week's end, the church had requested that I stay over and preach the following week. I agreed to return on Sunday night, explaining my desire to preach at my home church on Sunday morning. They agreed.

The next week, revival fires continued to burn brightly. We closed the meeting on Saturday night of the second week and enjoyed a social hour following the service. It was a celebration time with the new Christians who had received Christ during the fourteen nights of the meeting.

Finally, I headed for home. Sunday was coming. I looked at my watch. It was a little past 11:00 p.m. I decided to use the drive time to pray and seek God's leading for the Sunday message at my own church. My body was tired, more so than I realized. It had been a blessed week, but a very hard week on me physically and emotionally. My commute was over 100 miles per night. During the day I had prayed and studied for the night service and extended pastoral care to my own flock. I was drained, but I refused to complain. Instead, I gave thanks to God for the opportunity to serve, for the people who had been saved during the meeting, and for the very generous honorarium the church had given me.

Nevertheless, my body was tired and needing sleep. Only a few more miles and I'll be home. That was the last thought I remember before drifting off to sleep. The thud of the tires leaving the pavement jolted me awake. I struggled with the wheel to turn the car back onto the road. Somehow, by the grace of God, I managed to correct it and avoid an accident. "Thank You, Lord," I whispered, and promised myself I would stop at the next coffee shop to get awake.

The coffee shop came much sooner than I expected. The close call had left me so wide-awake, I even considered driving on. At that moment I felt like I could drive forever. But I remembered my promise and pulled into the parking lot. Getting out of my car, I looked at my watch and noticed it was nearly midnight. I entered the coffee shop and looked around. Four people were sitting in a round booth.

"Sit where you want," the waitress called out. I selected a booth several feet from where the others sat. I had my Bible with me and was about to review my plans for the morning message when one of the men in the round booth began swearing⎯taking God's name in vain. He continued talking loudly, repeating his oaths. One of the ladies who sat with him tried to quiet him down, but he turned on her and blasted her with vulgarity. "I'll talk as loud as I want and any way I want!" he declared. Then he proved his point by continuing on with his diatribe.

I quickly grew restless and decided to finish my coffee and leave. That's when I felt an inner nudge. I knew that feeling. It was the Holy Spirit and He wanted me to witness to the man.

Who, me? But I just stopped to wake up, not to witness! I argued silently.
But aren't you already awake after that little incident back down the road? I had to admit I was.

Weren't you the one who thought you could drive forever back then? Well, yes, I guess I did.

After all, were all those things that happened just a coincidence? Okay, okay! Maybe I was here for this very purpose. Although I didn't realize it, maybe I did stop to speak to someone about Christ instead of just to wake up.

I prayed again, asking God to show me how to go about it, if He was indeed the One behind all this.

My coffee cup was empty and the group in the booth was leaving. I paid for my coffee and followed them out the door into the parking lot.

"Excuse me! Excuse me, please," I said.

They all stopped and turned to face me.

"I overheard you speaking of my Father tonight. I'm not sure which one of you spoke of Him and I am curious as to how well you know Him."

A puzzled expression crept across their faces. Then one of them spoke.

"I don't believe I know you," he said. "Who are you? And who is your father?"

"God is my Father⎯my heavenly Father," I replied. "You spoke freely and often of Him tonight. You even asked Him to damn several things, which as you probably know, He is certainly capable of doing. Do you know Him?"

The man who spoke was now left alone with me in the parking lot. His friends had walked onto their car. Finally, he spoke again.

"Thank you for stopping me," he said, to my surprise. "I do know your Father. I once knew Him very well. I was a Christian for many years, and served on a church board. Then the devil got into our home. My wife left me. I blamed God for my troubles and walked out on Him."

By now his eyes were filled with tears and his voice cracked with emotion. I asked him to acknowledge his sins to God and return to Him, right then and there. Unfortunately, he refused. But he did promise he would do so on Sunday, in his old home church. I could only hope he would keep his promise.

We prayed together before going our separate ways. He joined his friends. I returned to my car and headed for home. My midnight witness was finished. Sunday was coming.

Father, sometimes when we least expect it, You call. In the most unlikely of circumstances, through the people we would least imagine, we sometimes hear Your voice. Tune our ears to hear and our hearts to respond to You.