Airport Encounters

“Is your husband a pastor?” The surprising words came from the lips of a Kenyan National that we had been flying with us ever since LA.  Now in the Amsterdam airport she had come up to mom with her earnest inquiry.  “No,” mom replied just a little bewildered at such a question, “He is a carpenter, but he sure loves the Word of God.” “Well I can tell that you are practical Christians,” the words fell from her lips with a note of respect, mingled with wonder and then she turned and left while we stood there in complete shock.  Our minds were still pondering over what had just happened when dad and Jonathan returned from the restroom. We eagerly shared with them the brief account which in turn left them nearly speechless.  Dad asked some question in regards to her thinking he was a pastor but we had just about as good an answer as he did. 

After recovering somewhat we went through security and sat down to wait for our flight. I was still contemplating what she had said about us being practical Christians when from the seat facing ours came this comment, “I can tell you are from Idaho.”  If the last observation was not shocking this was! Of all places, how could he tell we were from Idaho? I began checking myself for signs.  “How can you tell we are from Idaho?” Moriah asked in complete amazement.  “Of all the states I can tell that you are from Idaho,” he was dead serious.  This time I not only scanned myself but my family.  After a moment or two of watching us he said with a smile, “I read it on the tag on your bags.”  All we could do was laugh. 

He was obviously eager to talk to us because he kept asking us questions.  We learned a little about each other and that we were both going on mission trips, he was going with a fairly large group that was only staying three weeks, while we were going as a family and planning on staying for two years.  After talking a little about our reasons for going to Kenya he asked, “So what is your tradition?” Both Moriah and I, who he was sitting across from, looked at each other with blank expressions.  Finally it was understood that he was asking about our religion. “Oh,” Moriah and I said together, “We are Seventh-Day Adventists but they are not a tradition, they are Bible based.”  “So how did your church start?” his next question was one that we were ready and happy to answer.  “Have you ever heard of William Miller?” I asked.  “No,” he replied.  “You probably have,” I continued, “last year in the news there was a whole commotion about false prophets and William Miller was in that list.” “Yes, I vaguely remember something about that.” Since he had heard about William Miller it made it easy to present to him the history of our church.  We showed him why William Miller was classed in with the false prophets and yet how he was God’s messenger, using the prophecy of the 2300 days.  We explained to him why Christ did not come to earth as William Miller had predicted but moved to the Most Holy place. We then traced the pen of History through with the faithful believers who had held firm their confidence through the great disappointment and landed him where we became a denominated people in 1863.

“So what religion are you?” Moriah asked in a way that would make no one ashamed, whatever religion they were.  “I am a Presbyterian,” he said it as if it was nothing at all.  “How did your church start?” was her next question which brought from him a slight feeling of discomfort.   “Well,” pause, “I think we have our roots in…” It was clear to us that he did not know the history of his church or how it began. He was not a lackadaisical young person but a mature grandfather who was defiantly an educated individual.  Just about than they started calling people to board the plane and we did not get a chance to talk with him further. 

Upon boarding the aircraft I noticed that there was an empty seat next to where Jessica was supposed to sit.  With some quick thinking I took her seat not knowing who may sit there.  Once seated I immediately began pondering the many encounters that we had experienced over our journey.  It had really all started in Spokane.  Before even going through security, an airport employee had stopped mom and us girls to ask us what religion we were.  We simply told her that we were Seventh - day Adventist.  “Well I like the way you dress,” was her reply, “I wish more women would dress like you.” Just a few minutes later we were waiting in front of security for a technical difficulty to be resolved and we saw her again.  She stopped and asked, “So where are you flying?” “To Kenya,” was mom’s response.  “What are you going there for?”she asked as if she could not imagine us going as tourists. “We are going on a mission trip,” was mom’s honest answer. “Well I will be praying for you,” was her willing promise. 

At that moment my contemplating came to an abrupt halt with the words, “You’re missionaries aren’t you?” I looked up into the face of a man that appeared to be middle aged.  His face showed the signs of aging but more from lifestyle than age itself.  I immediately recognized that His seat was the one that was next to mine and then after taking all that in my mind began the process of comprehending what he had just said.   It only took a split second for my mind to grasp the fact that his question demanded an answer.  A little bewildered I answered, “Yes… we are.” It was just a little much for me to figure out how he knew we were missionaries so I left those thoughts alone.  “Where are you going?” came immediately from his lips.  Though this strange man was sitting next to me and asking questions that puzzled me I had a peace in my heart and felt the presence of the Holy Spirit.  “We are going to Kenya,” I said with a smile on my face that came from the pure joy that was filling my heart.  The overwhelming tiredness that had been with me ever since we left home was suddenly gone.  “Why are you going there?” his questions had no end and for the next hour and a half we talked about a wide variety of topics from me being homeschooled to what religion I was and so on.  I learned that he was a Catholic and that he was going to Kenya for work purposes.  He had a family and kids in their twenties.

Before getting very far in the conversation he asked, “So what is the difference between Seventh-day Adventist and Catholics?” My mind whirled slightly. What should I say? I knew that Seventh-day Adventists and Catholics were doctrinaly opposites. With a prayer in my heart I began touching on some of the things that I hoped would not be too offensive.  I told him about the Biblical truth of Baptism and how we do not baptize babies and why.  I also touched briefly on the Sabbath, but when I got to the state of the dead he said, “I never really believed in hell.  It did not seem to fit with the loving God of the Bible.” The light on his face showed the dawning of Truth in his heart and my own heart was warmed through to see a mind before so clouded by error come to the precious light of God’s word. 

As we continued talking somehow the Reformation was brought up and he wanted to know more about it.  Once again I was at a loss to know what to do. The Reformation was a call out of his church!  So with a silent prayer on my lips I began to tell him about Martin Luther and his reforms.  I told how Martin Luther was a Catholic monk that studied the Bible for himself and found that the Catholic church had adopted some errors along the way and how he was lead to the Bible truth about Righteousness by Faith.  Very gingerly I showed him that we cannot earn our own salvation by our works.  The conversation went on and on as I unfolded to his understanding, with the aid of the Holy Spirit, the grand truths of the Bible. At one point, with conviction in his heart, he said, “I don’t know anything about the Bible, you know so much more than me!” I so desired that he could have the same experience that I had been so privileged to enjoy in the Word of God, so I took him to Isaiah 28:10 and showed him how to study his Bible for himself. 

As I talked I began to be aware that I had a much bigger audience than just this gentleman that was sitting next to me.  People across the aisle, with ear buds in their ears, were turned in their seat to face me.  The row ahead of me had four heads twisted slightly towards my seat.  In fact the whole vicinity had ear bent to the words of truth that were being shared from the lips of a simple seventeen year old country girl from Idaho. 

As I consider all our airport experiences I am amazed at the fact that this poor mortal could possibly reveal Christ to anyone.  I recognize that it was nothing in me that was making them see Christ, all my righteousness is filthy rags, but somehow Christ was shining from my family and my heart and I praise him for this! At one point in the conversation with the gentleman on the aircraft he reverently told me, “I could tell that you were Christians because your faces glow with health, vitality, and the love of Christ.” 

My young friends are you looking for a purpose in life, something to live for and strive for?  Well as a fellow young person I will tell you that soul winning is that thing that you long for.  I know from personal experience that there is nothing so rewarding as reaching a soul for Christ! If you do not believe me, try it yourself.  If it had been an adult sitting by those two gentlemen I doubt that they would have been able to share as much as Moriah and I did with so little resistance and so much a ceptance.

" Even though pastors, evangelists, and teachers should neglect the seeking of the lost, let not the children and youth neglect to be doers of the word.”  The Youth’s Instructor, August 9, 1894 par. 3