at the side of the road
June 11, 2009 (Thursday)
Before Interstate Highway 45, there was U.S. 75. In the summer of 1952, I left Houston on U.S. 75 to go to Oletha, where I was pastor. Somewhere along the way, I saw a big tree on the side of the road, with a little clearing at its base. You could tell cars had stopped there, perhaps for the occupants to rest or have a sandwich. It was the kind of place that is no longer available today because I45 and other superhighways have no places like that, where the driver can just pull off the road under a tree.
I pulled off the road, got out under that tree, and prayed. A man at Oletha was on my heart, and I prayed just for him. I didn’t call him. I didn’t write him a letter. I didn’t send word to him by anyone else. I just prayed for him. He had never been in church, but I prayed for him. He was on my heart. On the next day, Sunday morning, he was there at church. He seemed sort of bewildered, as if he didn’t understand himself why he was there. Even I was surprised. He listened intently to every word I said that day. He never came back to church, but he and I became friends, and remained so for the rest of his life. Years later, before he died, we talked about the Lord together. I like to think he is in heaven today.
I think God was talking to both of us that day as I prayed under a tree on old Highway 75, somewhere between Houston and Centerville.