On August 10th 2019, I hopped on a flight from D.C. to Indianapolis with no real thought of God except to ask Him for a safe trip home. In the words of Michael Ramsden, “I don’t like flying, but it keeps my prayer life healthy.” 

I had no idea that that particular flight would end with me praying over a total stranger for the first time, and I never would have thought I’d hear the voice of God for the second time in my life, but “Well done, good and faithful servant” came through loud and clear.

I hope this encourages someone because boy oh boy did it encourage me 🙂

Here’s what happened:

At approximately 7:15pm, I boarded my sparsely populated American Airlines flight back home and got situated in seat 15C. There was another girl next to me, but the aisle across had only one person—an older woman who was pressed against the window.

Right after we were told to turn off our devices or put them on airplane mode, the woman asked me if she could borrow my phone to call her brother—she needed to let him know that she had gotten put on a different flight and would be arriving home three hours early.

I said sure and offered her my phone. 

She made the call, and even though I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, I was able to glean that she was upset.

But hey. It was none of my business. So when she handed me back my phone, I popped my headphones in, sent up a takeoff prayer, and started reading Guzik’s commentary on Matthew 27. 

Fast forward to about 8:05pm. The very friendly flight attendant was going around asking if anyone wanted something to drink. I asked for ice-less water and got back to silently reciting “The Parable of The Madman.”

A few minutes later, the friendly flight attendant returned with my water, but he also had a handful of paper towels clenched in his hand. He handed them to the woman across the aisle.

She was crying.

And man oh man did a spirit of conviction start to pound against my chest. 

Unbidden, a talk given by Vince Vitake entitled “The Art of Conversation” popped into my head. In it, one of the practices he encourages is talking to people on airplanes about faith and life. After all, your seatmate is a pretty captive audience. 

At the same time, a scene from the day before came to mind. I was in the car with my dad trying to get out of our neighborhood and to the airport, but no one was letting us in. Over fifty cars passed us by. One after the other. No one so much as hinted at slowing down, and after a good five minutes of waiting, we eventually had to find an alternate route. 

Afterwards, my dad turned to me and said, “That’s the problem with society today. Everyone is so focused on themselves—they don’t care about anyone else.”

I stared at that woman across the aisle of American Airlines flight 4634 for a solid minute, trying to convince myself that talking to her would be weird and uncomfortable and maybe she just had a cold and the seatbelt light was on anyways… etc. 

Finally, the Holy Spirit said, “Sarah, get your butt out of that seat, across the aisle, and talk to her. Now.”

I got off my butt, went across the aisle, and tapped her on the arm.

“Are you okay?”

She didn’t reply right away.

“What’s your name?” I asked, hopping to fill the void. She said something, but I couldn’t quite make it out. “Sydney?” I asked.

“Cindy.”

I smiled, both relieved and delighted. “That’s my mom’s name! I’m Sarah.”

She blinked. “My daughter’s name is Sarah.”

We wore identical expressions of surprise and disbelief.

And then she told me her story.

It had everything. Divorce. Distance. Disappointment. Drama. Disability. Adoption. Abuse. Love. And a recent, tragic loss.

Then she told me of her other children. Of the care she put into naming them, listing them from youngest on up until she got to her eldest—her daughter Sarah.

“… and Sarah Christine—“

I didn’t give her a chance to finish.

“MY name’s Sarah Christine!”

She blinked. I blinked. I’m pretty sure my shout woke up the sleeping lady in front of us who also probably blinked. 

“You’re kidding,” she said.

I shook my head. “I’ll show you my ID.”

And then the plane started its descent, and I felt like I had to HAD TO pray over her.

I asked. She accepted. And I prayed over a not so total stranger for the first time in a seat that wasn’t mine while being partially blinded by the fluorescent airplane lights.

And friends, what an incredible ride.

If nothing else, I got a reminder that God has a sense of humor, but truly, more than anything, I was reminded that stepping out in obedience, even if it’s uncomfortable or weird or the seatbelt light is on, is what being a Christian is all about.