I had lunch with a friend of mine yesterday.  We’ve known each other for over thirty years, although we haven’t been close for most of that time.  He wandered away a bit, but now he’s back. 

            He’s a valuable friend to me, because he was the guy that came and talked to me about Jesus after I’d had those first two, very powerful sovereign experiences with God.  He came to the resort town of Chelan, Washington, where I was working for room and board at an old hotel, with the intention of starting a Jesus coffee house.  The coffee house never got off the ground.  As it turns out, the only reason he came to Chelan from Spokane, Washington, was to talk to me.  Amazing.

            Anyway, after lunch, we went to the men's room, and there was a man in a wheelchair, struggling at the urinal.  When we asked if we could help, he said he was ok, but added that he was afflicted with what he called post-polio, which is polio from childhood that has now returned.  To make a long story short, we prayed for him right there, with two other guys in the restroom, doing their business.  Yes.  We even held hands.