A Partner working in Asia writes:

Random. That's what I thought it was. My children are forever talking about this random event or that statement. So when I saw H walking down the street last month I thought, "How random is that?" H is blind. He stammers. He is in his late twenties. And he loves Jesus.

He was one of our blind students back in our days. I had caught up with him last year on one of my trips. He had been living in Iran for five years and had come back to meet up with old friends, and there I was. How random is that?

So, there on the street I asked him how he was, what he was doing, etc. He was still unemployed, living in the park down the street, not one to be noticed. Except that in seeing him this blind man go past you might be tempted to question what value he had, what contribution he could possibly make to any community.

"You have no relatives?" I asked. "No one except my Father in heaven and Jesus in my heart," he replied.

About this time I was feeling pretty bad. Maybe you are too, reading this. But then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. We exchanged numbers. And then we exchanged email addresses. How random is that? I prayed for him there on the street and we promised to get together.

Before I left I made a call to my old blind student to set-up an appointment. We met in a teahouse that was constructed out of an old shipping container. We caught up on each other's news. H was now living with someone, I dont know who. He had worked in a shop in Iran and would like to have that kind of job again. We had taught him how to make brooms, but he was not interested in making brooms for a living.

We left the teahouse and walked down the street, his hand on my elbow, as I became his sighted guide once more. I knew a friend who could help. He knew people there who were like-minded. I told him I would give my friend his phone number and we parted again. Reflecting on our meeting, I thanked God for His care of His own, and there's nothing random about that.