"Where are you from?" The man seated next to me on the plane looked expectantly at me.
It's the question I honestly hate to be asked, because there is no simple answer. Five countries, eight cities, and two continents have defined my life, so being a global nomad makes calling any one place a "from" place close to impossible.
"That's a hard question to answer," I replied, wondering if I should give him the long version or the short version.
Forty minutes before, when we had boarded our flight in Denver, I had tried to stuff my backpack into the remaining space in the overhead compartment. I felt my face burning as the other passengers watched me try to squeeze, coax, and squish my backpack into a space that did not look too promising. I had a window seat, and the man in the seat next to me seemed to look up at this late-arriving passenger with annoyance. I finally gave up as the flight attendant graciously offered to store my bag somewhere else. I squeezed into my seat and buckled my seat belt as quickly and quietly as possible, being sure that I leaned as far away from the armrest that I shared with the man next to me as possible. I didn't want to ruffle any feathers further.
Within minutes, I was thoroughly absorbed in my book on the 24-7 Prayer movement that has been growing over the past decade. With a lump in my throat and amazement in my heart at the faithfulness of God, I read half a dozen stories about the ways that God uses unlikely people to fulfill His purposes. My 55-minute flight passed quickly, but as the plane made its final descent into Albuquerque, I was surprised when the man next to me began to talk and even more surprised with what unfolded next.
The man had looked puzzled by my non-commital answer to his "Where are you from? question. He attempted another one: "Well, where do you live now?"
"I'm between homes, actually. I've been living in China for the past three years, but I'm about to head out on an eleven month mission trip to eleven different countries with an organization called Adventures in Missions. The trip I'm going on is called the World Race."
"Wow! That's fantastic!" The man's entire face suddenly lit up. I was actually surprised by his response, especially because I had mentioned the World Race with a bit of hesitation, not sure how this mention of something Christian might be received. But after a flight of seeming disinterest, he suddenly became increasingly animated. "Did you have to raise support funds for this type of trip?"
"I did, actually. $14,800. But the Lord told me He was going to raise it all, and He so faithfully did! I'm really humbled by the ways He brought it all in."
"It's awesome to see what God does, isn't it?" By this time, I knew the man's interest was genuine, and I suspected with increasing certainty that he was probably a Believer as well. "My son spent a year in France with Campus Crusade for Christ. He had to raise funds, too, but God did some neat stuff through it." He then continued to ask me about the countries where we will be going and some of the work we'll be doing. I noticed that the flight attendant was leaning forward in her chair to catch some of our conversation, and the woman across the aisle from us had also turned her face toward us.
At this point, our plane's wheels had touched down onto the steamy tarmac and we were making our final taxi towards our awaiting jet bridge. Within moments, the "fasten seat belt" sign and its characteristic "ding" had gone off, and the plane-full of people suddenly came to life.
"It sounds like it's going to be an incredible journey," the man said, as he pulled his brief case down from the overhead compartment. He turned and reached his hand out to me, saying, "May God bless you through it." As I shook his warm grasp, I was surprised when he withdrew his hand to find a folded bill in my hand. As the man made his way hurriedly off of the plane, I opened my palm to reveal a crisp $100 bill. "Praise God," I whispered under my breath.
I tried to call out my thanks to the man as the distance increased between us. He merely waved his hand and kept going. I watched in stunned silence, realizing that in mere seconds, my perception of the man had been flipped upside down. Just as in the stories I had been reading, God used an unlikely person to pour out surprising, generous blessings upon an undeserving and now very humbled recipient. As I retrieved my back pack from the flight attendant, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for God's blessings through this man.
I'll never know his name. I'll probably never meet him again in this life. But as long as I live, I believe his kindness and generosity will never be forgotten.
