I got on the subway the other day at the same time as a 20-something-year-old beggar. He gave his spiel to the riders, but it was too smooth; no one gave him anything.
The man then walked the length of the car muttering, and his patter shifted. He began talking quickly, frantically, angrily, though not to anyone we could see. I’m sure everyone on the car was thinking exactly what I was: Uh-oh. He’s off his meds.
I sent up a little prayer, asking for protection. It’s hard to tell in cases like that when you’re safe and when you’re not. We were on an express, which meant it would be seven long minutes before we arrived at the next station. The man ranted, sounding increasingly more violent.
About three minutes into this it occurred to me that I wasn’t the only person in danger. Ashamed, I sent up another prayer for those around me. We were all trapped, and all needed protection.
The man ranted some more, letting loose with a string of invectives. People read books or subway ads; New Yorkers are adept at appearing calm even when we’re on high alert.
An eternity later, the train pulled into the next station. The man wandered out of the car and swore his way down the platform. People looked up at each other, glad to make eye contact with strangers who had survived the same event.
Only then, when the danger was past, did it occur to me that there’d been a gap in my prayers. For though I’d prayed for myself, then for those like me, I’d completely forgotten to pray for the troubled man himself.
You never know who God is going to put in your path. It may be someone irritating, irrational, stressed by problems you don’t know about, or mentally ill. That person might be someone for whom no one has prayed in a long, long time. It’s possible that’s the reason your lives have intersected: because you have been given the honor of praying for him or her. Take advantage of the opportunity.
