The rationalizations started as soon as I saw him standing beside Highway 36 on a hot Kansas afternoon, just east of US-7 near Troy. “Someone else will pick him up soon.” “He’ll find a ride.” “He can walk.” As I came close, I saw him looking at me, thumb pointed toward the east, skin dark, hope turning to disappointment on his face. Before I was even past him, another voice began to speak in my mind, “Whatever you would that others do to you…”

A quarter mile down the road, I slowed, turned left and headed back. He watched cautiously as I wheeled a U-turn and pulled onto the shoulder behind him. When he realized I was stopping for him, a big smile lit up his face and he trotted toward me. He hesitated beside the car and I opened the front door. “Oh, thank you, Jesus,” he exclaimed, quickly laying a notebook and Bible on the seat. “Let me put my backpack in the back here.”

There was another, “Praise you, God” as he finished that little chore, closed the back door and then slid into the passenger’s seat in the front. “I’m William Jones,” he smiled, offering his hand, “Thank you so much.”

For the next twenty miles, he told me about his ministry. “I was on my way into work one Monday morning and the Lord told me, ‘Go home and read your Bible.’ I told him, ‘Lord, I’m on my way to work.’ The Lord said, ‘Go home and read your Bible.’ So, I turned around and went home and read my Bible. That happened for three Mondays in a row.

“My boss called me in and said, ‘Willie, my customers and I agree; you’re the best paint and body man in Oklahoma. Is there some reason why you need Monday’s off? Because if there is, I’ll give you Monday’s off and I’ll pay you for them.'”

Willie looked at me and grinned, “Can you believe that? I got paid to stay home and read my Bible. Since then, I’ve gone out on the road with my Bible. I’ve been out for two-and-a-half years this time. The Lord will send me up north five hundred miles for one little lost sheep. Then, he’ll send me south for one little lost sheep. I find them on the street, under bridges, behind old buildings. I just go whenever he sends me. I’m on my way to West Virginia now.”

I looked at Willie’s leathery skin, his neat clothes and listened to his stories. I gave him a ride and a little cash, left him at the McDonald’s by I-29 on the south side of Saint Joe. I don’t know if he got another ride right away or not.

But I do know that I envy his faith.