A few nights ago, my wife walked out to her car to find that one of the tires was flat. It was too late in the day to have it repaired. I made arrangements to go into work a little late the following day, so I could get the tire fixed.

I sat outside the tire shop reading a book, waiting for the place to open. As I waited, it dawned on me that I didn’t have a stash of tracts in my wife’s car. I always keep gospel tracts in my car so that I am ready, no matter where I’m going, to put the gospel into someone’s hand. I was disappointed and actually hoping that no opportunity to hand out a tract would present itself, since I was unarmed.

A young man by the name of John opened the shop and invited me inside. Other than the employees, I was the only person in the place, for quite some time. I made use of the time by continuing to catch up on my reading.

After about an hour, my car was ready. John waited on me at the register. As he waited for the service order and receipt to print, John asked, “Police or fire?” (I guess I will always just have “the look.”)

“Deputy Sheriff—retired.”

“How long were you on the force?”

“Twenty years.”

“I don’t know how you guys do it.”

“It’s not easy. The divorce rate is very high, and more officers commit suicide each year than are killed in the line of duty.”

John shook his head. “So, what does a retired deputy sheriff do when he leaves the job?”

“I serve in a ministry called ‘Living Waters.’”

“Well, it looks like my wife and I are going to call it quits.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah—she said she was willing to go to counseling, but she said if anyone asked her out, she would go.”

“It doesn’t sound like she’s too serious about reconciling.”

“No, it doesn’t”

A line of people waiting to drop off or receive their cars was forming behind me.

John, a man I had never met, was engaging me in a very person conversation. He paused for a moment and then said something that made me want to kick myself for not having tracts in my wife’s car, too.

“What bank do you bank with?” John asked.

I told him the name of my bank.

John was concerned about the recent news about the bank closures. I assured him that he would probably be fine so long as he had less than $100,000 in the bank. He was relieved.

“My sister and I use to joke when we were kids.” John said. “We joked about what we would do if we ever had a million dollars.”

Aarrgghh! You don’t receive much easier evangelism pitches over the heart of the plate like that one. If only I had a million dollar bill.

As I left the store, I hope no one saw me yelling at myself.

I got into the car and thought, “What a crummy day. First a flat tire. And now a missed opportunity to put the gospel into someone’s hand!”

I made the hour drive to Living Waters none too happy. All I could think of on the way to the office and throughout the rest of the day was John. I prayed that the Lord would allow me to share the gospel with him, someday. But I was careful not to pray for another flat tire in order to make it happen.

Mahria called me at my office, as she does most days. Earlier that morning, I told her that I was charged for the tire repair because they couldn’t find any record of us purchasing road hazard protection on that particular tire. Mahria went through our records and found the sales slip for the tire. We had purchased road hazard protection on that tire.

While it was good news that we would receive a refund for the repair to the tire, it was better news that I would have to go back to the shop to receive it. My hope was that I would be able to get there soon enough to see John before he left for the day.

When I arrived at the store, I let the person at the counter know why I was there. He checked the records again and found that the repaired tire was purchased under my wife’s name, which accounted for why John didn’t find it under my name.

John came out of his office to issue my refund. The store was busier than when I left it earlier that morning.

Once John completed the paperwork for my refund, I shook his hand and thanked him for his help.

“Hey, John,” I said, “you mentioned when I was in this morning that you and your sister use to joke about what you would do if you had a million dollars.”

“That’s right.” He said with a chuckle.

I reached into my back pocket and removed a million dollar bill gospel tract. I had a couple thousand tracts in the car this time.

“Well, you don’t have to wonder anymore. Here’s your first million.”

His eyes got as big as saucers as he took the tract from my hand. “The government doesn’t make these, do they?”

“No. And you can’t counterfeit something that doesn’t exist.”

John turned the tract to the backside and started to read.

“John, please read it.”

“Oh, I will. Thanks.”

I said good-bye and left the store. I thanked God for redeeming what had been a missed opportunity. I hope and pray He will use that simple, little gospel tract to bring John to repentance and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.

--Tony