Mike G. Smith

Lots of parents often don’t look forward to taking their kids to theme parks.

Neither did I, but not for the same reasons.

While other parents worried about the crowds, the heat, the expensive and unhealthy food, and the nausea-inducing (not to mention bacteria-laden) rides, I had a different issue, to wit:

THE SHOWS.

Usually a respite from the craziness of four kids who all want to do something different, the musical variety and comedy shows were an air-conditioned opportunity to sit down, get a drink, and unplug for 20 minutes or so.

At least they were for everyone else.

You see, I was the dad who was invariably pulled from the audience and asked to take part in the show.

You may think I’m exaggerating, and I only wish I was. But for at least 10 years, from when my oldest was around 5 until my youngest turned 10, it happened. EVERY time. No matter where I sat — in the front of the theater, in the back, on an aisle, in the middle of a row, IN THE BALCONY. They found me, every time.

Maybe it was the big “BUFFOON” sign that I wore on my back. More likely, I was probably the dad who looked the least likely to hit someone when I got up on stage.

Eventually, I made peace with my lot in life, and I accepted each impromptu casting call with what little grace I had. But in the end, all those times of wearing a wig and a Hawaiian lei, and doing whatever silly dance they asked me to do, are now cherished memories, as my kids start their own families.

And these days? I still can’t go to a theme park show without worrying where to sit so they won’t pick me.

But then I remember: it really doesn’t matter. They will find you.

I am a weather geek. No ifs, ands or buts about it. Everything about weather interests me.

So when my daughter sent me her photos of incoming early evening thunderstorms a few nights ago, I just had to write about them.

Those rays of sunlight that are shooting out of the tops of these clouds are called crepusclar rays, from the Latin word “crepusculum,” meaning twilight or dusk. One University of Massachusetts website even called them “Jesus rays.”

But what about the phenomena where the sun’s light appears to set the top of the clouds on fire? There’s no weather term for that, at least not that I could find.

But I have a name for it — the glory of God.

This sight reminds me of all the times in his Word when God used fire from heaven to illustrate his awesome power. The hail of burning sulphur God used to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah. The pillar of fire that led Israel during the night to the Promised Land. The fire Elijah called down from heaven to light the offering on the altar and kill the prophets of Baal. Not to mention the chariot of fire that took Elijah to heaven. And how did God choose to show the Holy Spirit resting on each of Jesus’ disciples in power on the day of Pentecost? That’s right – tongues of fire. 

Thanks be to God for this beautiful evening reminder.

Some afternoons, it just takes coffee to make it through.

Last Tuesday was that kind of afternoon.

That day, I decided to walk a different route from my office to the neighboring McDonalds, walking through our parking garage and exiting on the street a little closer to the restaurant than the door I usually use.

Just as I exited the garage, a homeless man was walking by on the same side of the street. He stopped me, said he needed bus fare to get to work, and asked if I had any money.  I looked him in the eye, gave him the dollar or so of change in my pocket, wished him a good day, and continued walking to McDonalds. He didn’t seem very pleased with the small amount, but said “thank you” anyway, and turned toward the bus stop just down the street.

This wasn’t a momentous encounter, or even a significant one. I didn’t give him a lot of money. We didn’t have a deep spiritual conversation. In fact, the whole thing was over in 15 seconds. I even forgot to ask him for his first name, a tactic my daughter uses with great success to let the person she’s talking to know they are valued.

No, I woudn’t even bring up this on-the-street meeting, if it weren’t for the fact that God has placed the Old Testament story of Ruth in front of me several times this week. What brought Ruth, a poor widow and the daughter-in-law of another poor widow, to that particular field in Bethlehem owned by Boaz? He was a wealthy relative of Ruth’s late father-in-law, and under Hebrew law, was one of the only men alive who could redeem Ruth.

It was all so ordinary. Ruth needed food for her and her mother-in-law, Naomi, and was gleaning grain at harvest time in the part of Boaz’s field reserved for the poor. And Boaz, as wealthy landowners will do from time to time, just “happened” to show up at the same time to see how his crops turned out that year.

Boaz saw Naomi working in the field, and the rest, as they say, is history. Actually, it’s “His story,” as Boaz and Ruth became grandparents in the human ancestral line of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

So, I’m convinced that the meeting on Kansas Avenue in Topeka last Tuesday was a divine appointment. But what was God up to when I crossed paths with the homeless gentleman that afternoon?

I have no idea. But God knows.

I can only hope he was blessed by our brief encounter, by the small amount of money I gave to him, and by the respect I showed to him when we spoke. In retrospect, I also hope that our meeting will help me not to overlook any future “chance” meetings. And to be prayerfully ready for whatever God wants to come out of that meeting.

God has done some pretty big things with seemingly random encounters. And I don’t want to miss what He’s doing.