The Unlikely Evangelist

As he spoke, I studied the young guy visiting me at work. He was perhaps two decades younger than me, mid twenties, average height, wearing business casual attire. His most impressive feature was his personality: Enthusiasm, optimism, humor and intelligence. He was a born salesman.

His name was Jason, and he was pitching me an idea. It was the era of desktop printers, and the multinational corporation where I worked…with over 10,000 employees…had a ton. The empty inkjet ink cartridges were simply thrown away. He was trying to start a company that would collect, refill, and resell them.

He pulled out a glossy flyer from his attache case; it had a picture of the one of the colorful kiosks he wanted to place everywhere around the site.

“So, you see?” he asked eagerly, pointing. “Your employees just drop them in here and I’ll come around and remove them through this panel in the back.”

I thought it was a good idea, but I’d need of course to run it through countless levels of management and committees. The conversation gradually turned from inkjet cartridges to more personal things.

I learned he was in the middle of a messy divorce, struggling for partial custody of his son, Dallas. His wife sounded like a real charmer. As he spoke, I noticed the three other guys in my four-person cubicle straining to listen. I tilted my head: Let’s get out of here. I slowly walked him to the door as he continued.

As I worked to get approval, his visits became a weekly event. We became friends, and went for coffee in the empty cafeteria where he’d fill me in on the latest on the divorce issue. Sometimes there were tears; he loved his son fiercely and the prospect of only seeing him half the time–or even occasionally–was agonizing.

I could relate. I wonder how I would have felt when Kristen was three, having everything suddenly come apart at the seams. Sue leaving. Lawyers. The bank account being drained.

As the weeks went by and the divorce became finalized, I tried to support him. Sometimes we talked in the cafeteria, other times is was the cubicle when the other three guys were out. Sometimes he broke down, great wracking sobs erupting as he pondered his fractured life. All I could do was sit with my hand on his knee and listen.

He finally ended up with shared custody. He looked stricken. “I guess it’s better than every other weekends,” he said. I handed him a tissue and he gave me a wintry smile.

Approval for the kiosks was finally granted, and we placed them everywhere around the site. However, nobody used them and continued to simply throw their inkjets in the trash. Posters, bulletin board announcements, and all-employee letters did nothing to help.

Jason was crushed. I gathered he had the same lousy response with other companies and his actual vs projected revenue chart became painful to see.

Eventually, his fledgling enterprise folded. Life went on, and I gradually lost touch with him.

Years later, my phone rang. Out of nowhere, it was Jason; same old infectious optimism. “Can I meet you for lunch?” he asked.

As we ate our appetizers and drank our sweet tea, he was was fairly bursting. He had just gotten back from Africa where he had been working to build churches. He shared the gospel, helped set up hospitals, distributed food, worked with well-drilling companies. He was on fire.

I was astonished. “What got you into all of this?” I asked.

“Well, you did.” he said.

I was startled. “Me?”

“Yes! All those times you told me about Jesus and having a relationship with him, and the gospel. That’s what got me where I am.”

I was flummoxed. I remembered the conversations, the tears, a friendly hand on the shoulder…maybe a prayer now and then…but I couldn’t remember discussing any of the things he mentioned.

Among other stuff, I had a little picture of Jesus on my desk, and a yarn-and-popsicle stick cross one of my kids had made hanging on my wall…but other than that, I drew a blank. But he was insistent.

“In the cafeteria…at your desk…as we were putting out the kiosks. You don’t remember?”

I honestly didn’t. All I could think of was that the topic came so naturally to me that I didn’t even realize I was doing it. But evidently I did, because as we finished our lunch he told me about his next destination: London, where he’d be working to establish another mission church.

“Well…thanks for meeting me,” he said. He came forward for a hug. He squeezed me tightly, then stepped back and looked at me. “Thanks for everything.” He smiled, that familiar smile of optimism and enthusiasm.

Then he was off: A worker in the vast field of humanity, toiling to build a Kingdom.

And all because God had put us together over some failed project about kiosks; and had put the right words in my mouth; and had used me to touch uncounted lives.

I had no words.

“It is the same with my word. I send it out, and it always produces fruit. It will accomplish all I want it to, and it will prosper everywhere I send it.” ~ Isaiah 55:11

I felt conflicted writing this. I didn’t want to appear boastful about kindness. The intent was to reflect on God’s omniscience, and the power of words; and how…like ripples on a pond…they continue on, long after they’ve faded from memory.