Rich Dixon is at an intersection.

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At a busy metro intersection, a young man reminded us that RICH’S RIDE wasn’t about Rich – or a ride.

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The light turned green, horns blared impatiently. He motioned for the folks behind us to wait. This was important.

“I heard you speak this morning. I need to tell you a story.

“Today is the first time I’ve been to chapel since school started. This summer I was diagnosed with a chronic illness, and I’ve been angry at God. Before this happened, I was sure He called me to be a pastor. Now it seemed impossible.

“I considered not returning to school, but I didn’t know what else to do. So I came back, but my heart wasn’t in it. That’s why I haven’t been to chapel. I kept talking to Him, asking why, but I wasn’t hearing any answers that made sense.”

The light changed. Green. Red. Green. Horns honked. But he was determined to finish.

“This morning I felt like I was supposed to go to chapel. I wasn’t sure why. I didn’t want to go, but I showed up because I felt God’s prompting.

“I had no idea you’d be there, but now I understand. God wanted me to hear your story. I decided God couldn’t use me, but your message turned my thinking around. God can use anyone, even a guy with this disease.”

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Our invitation to speak at that chapel service was last-minute. Imagine the complex arcs of different lives, all the long-term and short-term leading to one divine appointment.

I don’t know how that works. He’s God, I’m not.

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I wonder how often we’re too busy to notice or honor instances of what I believe to be holy ground. As a young man approached in congested downtown traffic, I normally would’ve obeyed the green light’s command to pull away, to avoid inconveniencing other drivers. This felt different.

He’s God. I’m not.

To be continued…