by Robert Buchanan
Several years ago, my wife and I went on a short holiday to Australia with friends from another mission. We had spent the week wandering around the city and enjoying the simple pleasures of being in a first world country: restaurants, parks, museums and even going to a local movie theater.
As the week wound down, we began thinking about the flight back to our country of service. Since we all needed to do laundry, we walked a few blocks to a local laundromat, where we had planned to put our clothes in the machines and then go across the street to a fast-food place.
And then he walked in….
As we started loading the washing machines, I noticed a young man who set off alarm bells in my head. He was obviously intoxicated, a bit agitated, and carrying an open can of beer. He proceeded to the washing machine and then stripped down to his boxer shorts. “OK,” I said to myself, “he clearly isn’t carrying any weapons.”
Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe he was just an extrovert, but he, of course, wanted to talk to me. This shouldn’t have surprised me. I have a long history of being approached by intoxicated or mentally ill people in public places. And I would rather he approach me than my wife, our friends, or the two college-aged women who were busy drying their clothes and trying to avoid eye contact.
So I spent the next forty-five minutes listening to “Peter” tell me about all kinds of conspiracy theories – how the police in his hometown were out to get him and how U.S. prisons were involved in some kind of plot with Australian prisons. I nodded my head, pretended to understand, and let him vent.
And then, finally noticing my American accent, he asked about all of us. I told him that we were on a short holiday and that we were heading back the next day. He then asked me what I did for a living. After having listened to Peter go on and on about how much he hated and distrusted the police, I wasn’t about to tell him that I worked as a Security Manager. So I truthfully told him that I was a Manager.
“Of what?” he asked. With a straight face I replied, “Well, you know, Stuff.” He was intoxicated enough that he didn’t question my answer and just kept talking. Eventually, Peter wandered off, and we gathered our clothing and started heading back to the hotel.
As we did, our friend looked over at me somewhat incredulously and said, “Manager of Stuff?!” We all laughed, and to this day we joke around that they are going to buy me business cards that bear the title, Manager of Stuff.
As funny as that memory is to me, I also look back on it with regret. I was focused on the security of my wife, our friends, and the two young women in the laundromat. And in one sense, that’s fine; we all have a moral responsibility to look out for others, and I have spent my professional life in the security field.
But I’m not just a security professional. I’m also a missionary and, first and foremost, a follower of Christ. I wish I had seen beyond the security needs that day and witnessed to Peter. I wish I had told him that God loves him and sent Jesus to die for sinners like me and sinners like him — even if it was unlikely that he would remember it the next day.
We all struggle with doing what we should do in various circumstances. It can be difficult to listen to the Spirit’s leading in our daily tasks and interactions. I have found that it is easier for me to witness to some people than others and that oftentimes my priorities are misaligned with God’s priorities.
But I know that God’s grace covers even these missed opportunities, and His will is not stymied by my mistakes. Still, I want to be a good witness wherever I go. So I look to Christ for guidance. Next time, I hope to witness to those who don’t know Jesus while also being protective of others.
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Robert Buchanan is a career security professional, who ten years ago answered God’s call to use his skills in overseas missions. He currently serves as a Security Advisor for a mission organization in the South Pacific. His wife, Heather, serves as a teacher in the local international school, and together they have found that true joy comes from doing God’s will even when conditions are challenging.
