I apologize in advance for the length of this post; it truly for my very dedicated blog readers that, for whatever reason, have in interest in what I have to say. While this is not an old blog post or journal entry, it is a story of a significant event in my life that happened just over six years ago.
“Let’s go one more block,” I said, not ready for the evening’s adventure to be over. Andrew and Amanda agreed and we proceeded down Main Street, praying as we walked. The last door that led to upper-level apartments was, as the others, locked. We walked around the corner to the side street and found an open door. “Praise the Lord,” Andrew said, and we quietly ascended the flight of stairs. I will never forget this moment, I thought. An adrenaline rush from the evening’s activities etched in my mind the smell of the stairwell, the crookedness of the stairs, and the peeling paint on the walls. What I didn’t know is that we were about to knock on a door that would open a life-changing relationship.
Earlier that cold evening in January 2006, a mixture of young people gathered at Java 101, a downtown coffee shop manned by volunteers from the church. Perhaps “mixture” isn’t the best word. The group was diverse but there was little mixing between the church kids and the “street” (non-church) kids. It’s hard to blame anyone for the segregation; the non-church kids didn’t have much interest in mixing, and even the most friendly church kids had a hard time consistently connecting with those who seemed so different.
Uninterested in watching another game of church-kid ping-pong – and perhaps influenced by my earlier consumption of espresso – I looked around to see who might be interested in doing something “crazy.” I spotted both Amanda and Andrew. Knowing they wouldn’t turn me down, I suggested we go prayerwalking – a new concept for us at the time, introduced the weekend before by a speaker at a church retreat.
My friends readily agreed and we set out. Before long, one of them suggested we knock some doors to see if we can pray for anyone. We found an open door to an upper-level downtown apartment right next door to Java. We climbed the steep stairs and knocked on the first door. I happened to know the young man who answered, though not very well. He and his roommate got a kick out of our request to pray for them, but didn’t accept. We continued down Main Street, but found that pretty much all the doors were locked.
…Until the one on the side street. Now we found ourselves walking down a hallway with just four doors. Door one… knock… *click* goes the bolt. Hmm, no open door there. We passed door two because it was dark. Doors three and four were almost adjacent, and we heard female voices behind door four. “They’re ladies; you do the talking,” Andrew told Amanda and I. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on door four.
To our surprise, a man opened door three. We awkwardly turned from door four to door three, slightly startled. “Hello… Uh, we were just wondering if there’s anything we could pray for you about?” I stumbled across my words, still trying to figure out the doors and the voices.
“Oh… well… my wife was hit by a semi on Tuesday,” the man said slowly.
“Really? What’s her name? We’ll pray for her,” Andrew replied.
“Actually, she’s in here… come on in.” Entering the apartment, the smell of cigarette smoke overwhelmed all of us – but somehow it didn’t matter in this very significant moment. “Hey, guys, you’ll never believe this, but some kids just came to see if there’s anything we need prayer for…” Entering the living room, I noticed the other “door four” was blocked by the couch – where two ladies were chatting.
“Amanda?” said one of the ladies. “What are you guys doing here?” she asked, amazed. We were equally surprised to find a lady from church chatting with this couple. We explained why we had come, and she told us about how these were her friends and that the three of them had been in the accident together – but the other lady suffered the worst injuries, including neurological damage.
After introductions, we asked if we could pray for them. They readily agreed and we had a powerful time of prayer. “Wow,” the man said when we were done. “I’m not a church-going man, but I think there is something really powerful in your prayer.”
We promised we would return to visit and pray. As we left that apartment late that cold Saturday night, I’m not sure my feet touched the steps on the way out! My heart was bursting with excitement for what God had done – and because I got to be a part of it. A simple step of obedience had led to an open door that would continue to impact my life and ministry in a very powerful way.
This story has continued on for six years; the wife recommitted her life to Christ. The husband, while he has yet to make a decision to follow Christ, consistently testified to the power of prayer. Unfortunately, life circumstances pushed this couple apart about a year ago. Amanda and I have had some contact with the wife the past year and Andrew recently ran into the husband at NDSU. Please join us in praying that God will continue the work He has started in their lives.