The phone rang.  It was David Nitwalker (name changed) who had made an earlier appointment to buy a bundle of grassfed lamb from our farm.  He stood on the walk, a tall, rugged man and older than I had expected.  He was wearing large rubber boots.

I invited him in and he immediately commented profusely and about our house.  David noticed the wide pine flooring and huge beams.  “God, what a beautiful house,” he effused, and all this Southern pine.”  He knows wood, alright, I mused to myself.

Since it was supper-time I invited David for some toasted cheese sandwiches, our fare for the evening.  He politely declined but trailed me to the kitchen freezer where we stored the lamb bundles.  Together we chose a bundle that would suit his needs and loaded his cooler with the individual lamb pieces.  David wrote out the check and asked a few questions about age of lamb, why I prefer mutton, and so forth.

About this time David discovered a pan of peach cobbler on the counter.  “U mm. . . what’s this?” Right then I knew we were buddies, even though we had set our sights on each other a mere 5 minutes earlier.  “Peach cobbler,” I responded, “Want some?”  And so we sat down at the kitchen table to chat and eat cobbler with cream.

Something in me didn’t want to ask him about his faith.  But I could see that he was an older man and the thought crossed my mind that I would never see him again.  This would be my only chance to lead him to Christ.  He could die and depart to hell never knowing Christ as Savior.  I felt the urgency of the situation and waited.

The break came when David asked what I did for a living.  I replied, “I farm and pastor The Church of the Living Water.”  He seemed to approve and started to ask location of the church, but I knew I couldn’t pass the opportunity to follow up.  Many unsaved people like to talk about churches and religion just as the woman at the well.  But I could not be diverted from the goal.  “Have you given your life to Jesus Christ?” As I asked, all fear left.

David stammered, not knowing what to say.  Nothing came out quite right.  “I . . . I . . . don’t think so,” he finally managed to respond.  I could tell the question caught him off guard and hit him with a dose of reality.

I have good new for you,” I said as I began to put him at ease again.  But David wanted to tell me what a good life he lived and how he was not a bad person. I let him express himself and then agreed, “I can tell you are a good person.  And I have good news for you.  But first some bad news.  Nobody is good enough to get to heaven.  Not me, not you.  God says you have to be perfect to get into heaven.”

Then I gave him the good news:  “Jesus Christ died for our sins.  He took our sins on Himself and gave us His gift–righteousness!”  I went on in this vein momentarily and then asked, “Does this make sense to you?”  He was listening attentively to it all and replied, “Yes, it does.”  “Is there any reason why you would not want to ask Jesus Christ into your life right at this table?” I followed.

David was not ready.  He was thinking, but not sufficiently convicted to take the step of faith.  I listened and let our conversation lapse to another subject.  As I helped David carry his newly-purchased lamb to his car, we both agreed that we were happy to met each other and visit.  We wrapped up our business with mutual thanks and appreciation.  He said he would email me a testimony about the lamb and I suggested he consider what we talked about at the table.  May God bless David on his way.