There’s nothing traditional about it. There was no bible, no worship team, no fog machine or lighting rigs.

Just a taxi cab and an unknown man.

Traveling for work means early-hour flights and late-night returns with the help of the occasional taxi transport. On one particular early morning, a man with a five o’clock shadow at 5:00am opened up the cab door while putting my luggage in the trunk. His thick accent filled the car as he tried conjugating the right verbs with every question I peppered him with.

Where are you from? Do you like California? How long have you been here? And finally, What is your name?

Bahtbam, named after a Iranian king, fled Iran leaving behind his family and his collegiate pursuits because of insurgence and political uprisings. Leaving Tehran meant leaving behind the known for the unknown, the sure for the unsure, the predicament for the promise. And he was alone. 

I was flying to Arizona to teach a bible study, but in that moment of raw honesty, a preach about metaphysical theological implementations of evangelism just didn’t feel right. I whispered a hushed prayer of deep necessity, Help me, God. Help me. I knew I couldn’t leave the conversation without a layer of hopeful redemption for the man living out the American dream completely unknown. But what do I do?

The concept of evangelism has changed with the ebbs and flow of culture. From street-corner prophets yelling Turn or Burn, to The Four Spiritual Laws chat, to tracts about One Way, to alter call invitations, evangelism varies. But the purpose is the same…

Zooming down the 405 freeway at 5:15am I did the only thing I knew to do: pray. The sweet man with the five o’clock shadow needed to know his life was known by someone other than himself. There was a slight pause after he spoke about home, and the war, and California, and his dreams. The words hung suspended in air as the cab—like his dreams—zoomed past his reality.

As we pulled up curbside at the airport, I broke the silence.

Bahtbam, I’m going to pray for you. I’m serious! Bahtbam, I’m going to pray that you continue to go to school and that you meet people in our area. But most importantly, I will be praying that God bless you right now. Not later, not with an education, but right now. Because when you are blessed, you will know that it is because you are known by God and He is making a way for you.

I left him the largest tip I’ve ever given a taxi driver because how can I be a Christian and be a cheapskate? I told him about a local Persian restaurant on Culver Avenue that had lots of Iranians. And then, because I’m a matchmaker at heart, I told him I would pray he meets a beautiful woman as a sign of God’s blessings. He laughed, thanked me, and handed me my luggage.

****

Two weeks ago, I wheeled my suitcase down my porch and walked through the early morning fog as I climbed into my cab. I’ll be going to the airport this morning, I said through a yawn. He turned around and replied, Yes, I know, and then winked. Out of all the cab drivers in Orange County, Bahtbam was the one who showed up as my taxi.

I told him I prayed for him and he rubbed his five o’clock shadow with some reservation. Bahtbam, I hope I don’t make you feel uncomfortable by talking about God, but I believe… He waved his hand in the air and said he wasn’t at all offended. He simply didn’t know how to say that he enrolled back at a local community college and is pursuing his degree in Anthropology.

I squealed in delight and then asked if he has met a beautiful Iranian girl yet. He laughed and blushed cheeks surfaced on his tan skin. No, no I have not a woman yet. So I told him that I would call my mom and she would pray for him because her prayers go all the way up to God. We both laughed as we pulled up to the airport curb.

Thank you for praying for me, he said as he pulled out my luggage. Maybe I can pray to God too. He waved. I smiled. We left.

But this I know to be true. God doesn’t need me to be a harvester in the garden of evangelism. Sometimes we are to plant seeds of faith. Other times we are to water or heal. And other times we are to harvest what others have planted. In the cosmic call of evangelism, I want to be faithful to share the truth, hope, and love of a God who deeply knows us.

The desperate plea of Help me, God in the back of the cab was answered with, Just know him. Sometimes the feeling of being known and thought of is the most powerful reminder that God cares and can move without fog machines, lighting stands, and even a preach.