I walked out of the house, down the steps, and across the gravel driveway to my idling pickup truck. Daybreak was still two hours away but a full moon illuminated the cornfield that surrounded my property. I turned on the dome light and wrote down the date, time, and odometer reading.
'Here we go', I muttered under my breath as I backed out onto the quiet country road. The destination was two states away. A large company had requested assistance with their plans for a new manufacturing facility. The consulting fee was sizable and I looked forward to the opportunity.
I finally made my way onto the state highway and settled in for the long drive. The radio played familiar songs on an 'oldies' channel as I waited for the news and weather report. My travel mug full of coffee was a welcome friend at four in the morning. Traffic was light and miles passed quickly.
About an hour into the trip, I noticed a figure in the distance. My headlights caught the image of what I thought to be a young fellow carrying something in his hand. Normally I wouldn't pick up hitchhikers but this chap appeared harmless. I slowed to a stop and lowered the passenger side window.
A thin, poorly dressed middle-aged man slowed his gait and glared at me. He had multiple angry-looking tattoos covering his neck and arms. I fought the urge to pull away and asked him ... 'Where are you headed?'
'Columbus', he blurted in a forceful tone.
'Well I can get you over to the interstate, it'll save you some miles and you can catch a ride from there,' I said. The stranger opened the door and got into my truck.
'My name's Gary', I uttered politely. He hesitated, turned toward his window, and grumbled, 'Joe'.
'Joe .... if you don't mind me asking ... where did you start your journey and what's taking you to Columbus?'.
'I started in Canton yesterday ... walked all night ... no rides ... a lot of miles ... no rides. I need to be in Columbus to see the parole board at nine this morning. If I'm late, it's back to prison.' Joe had an ominous droning cadence to his voice. I wondered what I'd gotten myself into and secretly couldn't wait for the next few miles to pass.
'Why were you in prison, Joe?'
'Assault and battery', he answered. My palms started sweating as I gripped the steering wheel. The next several minutes were heavy with silence but the awkward pause eventually ended with Joe drifting off to sleep. I decided that this was a good time to have a talk with God, 'What do you want me to do? I've got this guy in my truck and I need to know your will ... how do you want me to handle this?'
The sun started to peek over the horizon as I turned onto the interstate entrance ramp heading toward Columbus. 'Seventy miles to go with a man who could harm me' I sighed. 'Sleep on, Joe ... sleep on.'
The gauge was hovering just above empty when I pulled into a gas station. Quietly, so as not to wake Joe, I filled the tank and went inside to retrieve a receipt since the pump had failed to print one. As I stood in line I noticed a cooler with food and drinks. 'He is probably hungry', I thought.
Joe woke up when I crawled back into the cab. 'Where are we?' he asked with some alarm. I handed him the sandwich and told him that I had decided to run him down to Columbus, taking a completely different route to Illinois.
He was stunned and for the first time, looked directly at me while speaking. 'Why would you do this? Why would you buy me food? Why would you drive me to Columbus when it's miles out of your way?' The grit in his voice exposed the distrust in his heart. I reassured him that there was no catch. He grumbled in disbelief as he swallowed the sandwich in just a few bites. After gulping down the last of the soda, he dozed off again.
I drove the remaining distance wondering how this was going to play out. I listened hard for God's direction. Nothing came.
In Columbus, Joe directed me to the building where he was to meet with the parole board. We had indeed arrived in plenty of time. I felt like I was supposed to say something but struggled to find the words. Joe opened the passenger door and got out of my truck. He walked toward the entrance, got halfway there, turned around, and walked back.
I rolled down my window to see what he wanted.
'I don't know what to say ... you are one strange dude. Nobody does stuff like this for me. You really helped today ... I ain't much for thank you's.'
Then Joe suddenly turned and walked away, shaking his head as he entered the facility.
With tears in my eyes, I asked God about my inability to share Christ with Joe when I had the chance. I whispered, 'I've failed You.'
I was comforted by ... the vision of a plow.
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