I stood at the kitchen table next to my wife as we picked nits from our daughters’ hair with fine-toothed combs. I had already spent hours removing the bugs from my wife’s hair. It was not one of my best days, and not just because of the lice. Earlier in the day, I had driven onto a curb to avoid a wrong-way driver on a one-way street. While I’d managed to narrowly miss having an accident, my car had immediately begun to make a strange noise whenever I turned.
When the worst of the nits had been taken care of, I left my poor girls’ heads in the hands of my wife for lice treatment and limped the car to the shop. Thankfully, it’s not far—we can see it from our front window.
I had been to this family-owned garage before for an oil change. The employees seemed friendly, the kind of men who might talk about life and family and even faith for hours.
The garage hummed with activity. Mopeds buzzed by to drop off parts and car engines revved as mechanics peered under the hoods. In the middle of all the racket, men hung around the shop, waiting. Nobody’s car got cared for until the client talked to the boss. Friends of his could have their car looked at within a couple of minutes. But sometimes he let people wait for hours, just because he felt like it. Like most things in our country, work in the garage functioned around relationships.
I asked God to use our car situation to open a door to meet more Muslims in our community.
I looked around for the owner and hoped he’d be in a good mood so I wouldn’t have to wait too long. When I found him, I told him what was wrong with the car.
He nodded. “Do you want a coffee?”
“That would be great,” I responded.
The owner sent a mechanic to get me a cup from the local shop. By the time he returned, I was conversing with the boss’s family members and employees, answering the usual questions about why I’m living in their country.
As I walked home half an hour later, I asked God to use our car situation to open a door to meet more Muslims in our community. The car was diagnosed with damaged axles, and I was told it would probably take a few days for the repair.
For the next four hours, we talked about everything from cars to family life.
Encouraged by the welcome I’d received at the garage, I blocked out time twice a day to pop into the auto shop, staying for at least an hour each time. While I did want to find out what was going on with the car, my main objective was to build friendships with the men fixing it.
When the car was finally fixed, I showed up at the shop in the evening, bringing coffee and plenty of sugar for my new friends. For the next four hours, we talked about everything from cars to family life. Before I said good night and drove home, they invited me to visit with them any time—not just when I had car problems.
What I had seen as a nuisance ended up being a divine blessing. Without having car issues, I might never have forged friendships with these men who spend their days right in my neighborhood. I’m asking God to give me opportunities to share the love of Jesus with them.
Who knows—maybe someday I’ll find out there was a reason for the lice, too.
Pray:
- Praise God for turning bad situations into opportunities to build friendships with Muslims.
- Ask God to open the hearts of these Muslim mechanics to the Gospel so that they’ll eagerly seek Jesus.
- Pray for field workers to continue to have meaningful connections with their neighbors.
This account comes from a long-term worker. Names and places have been changed for security.