I used to love to ride in the bed of my grandfather’s gray, ’66′ Chevy custom ten pickup. Riding back there made you feel dangerous and free. It was fun just having all that room and feeling the breeze in your face. I felt alive back there. It was always an adventure. As a matter of fact, I remember when I was about 13 that a friend of mine and I rode in the back of that truck from Jacksonville to MacArthur Park in Little Rock. I distinctly remember that going over the Arkansas river bridge in the back of a pickup is an invigorating experience.

Yesterday Matt Terry and I drove to Little Rock in his truck. I started out in the front but ended up in the bed. You see, at about mile marker twelve we drove past two men walking down the shoulder of the road. Their truck was just a few yards behind them and one of them was carrying a gas can.

We both agreed we should check it out and so we stopped. One of the men was a tall, slightly graying, sixty-ish, six foot three or so gentleman. He said that he had an appointment with a doctor at the VA hospital in Little Rock but the truck had run out of gas and they were trying to get to a station. The man with him was about six feet tall, somewhere in his mid to late twenties, he was soft spoken with an athletic appearance. We told them that we’d give them a ride to the nearest station and they hopped in the back and we were off.

In route I realized that we had put a man with a doctors appointment in the back of a truck at about 7:15am on a cool March morning. I told Matt that I’d get in the back for the return ride and so Mr. James and I traded places. That’s when I met Mike.

Mike was the younger of the two. I asked him if he had a job or was going to school and he said, “no sir, I go to church every day.” I was a little puzzled but he began to explain. It seems that his brother is in a gang in San Francisco and he was recruited to join. He refused but the gang thought he knew too much so they threatened the lives of his family if he did not become a part of their brotherhood. He fled the city, left his wife and children with his mother and moved to Pine Bluff with an aunt. While in Pine Bluff he met a minister who was mentoring him; preparing him to return and retrieve his family.

He wept as he told me how much he missed his children and how he was studying scripture so that he could strengthen himself for the job he had ahead of him. I encouraged him all I could. I gave him scripture and asked him about his schooling and about his future. He said he wanted to get his GED and preach. All he wanted to do was tell people about the God who changed his life. The presence of God was in the back of Matt Terry’s pick-up yesterday morning.

We got the men back to the truck, exchanged some phone numbers and Matt and I headed for the golf course and Mr. James and Mike headed for the VA. I didn’t figure I’d hear from them again but Matt and I were thankful that we had an opportunity to minister to them for a little while.

I called Matt last night about 9pm and told him I was thankful for the day and the fellowship and the adventure. We both wondered about Mr. James and Mike and I told Matt that I’d call him if I heard anything.

At 9:10pm, Mike called. He was weeping. He wanted to thank me for the encouragement and wondered if I’d pray for his family with him, over the phone. He was worried about them and he wanted God to watch over them and he asked me to pray. I poured out my heart as best I could over that phone and into that young man’s heart and into the ear of God. It only lasted a moment or two but Mike seemed to be encouraged and I promised him that I would stay in touch. It was a holy moment. Yesterday was a blessed day. I love riding in the bed of pick-ups.