Naturally, I bungled his name on my first try, but I think thats what broke the ice. His name tag read Grzegorz and begged the question: Where are you from? He seemed quite pleased that I'd asked, fairly clicking his heels as he told me about his family in Poland.

He missed his four sisters and his two dogs, his mothers hot breakfasts and his fathers hearty laugh. Grzegorz is 24 and an intern in the restaurant management program at the Colorado resort where I was staying. Today he would be my waiter.

He finished university last summer, bicycling to class, and came to America the very next day. His first night here was only the second night hed ever spent away from home. He shared an apartment with three other interns, all non-Americans. No, he didnt have a girlfriend, not yet. His long-term goal is to someday manage a restaurant. In the short term he just wants to see California.

Grzegorz took my order, disappeared and then showed up to refresh my coffee, discretely wiping the carafe with a linen napkin. His every movement was fluid and refined. When I commented on his professionalism, he beamed and said he was studying very hard. I am learning to serve.

The next morning I asked to be seated in Grzegorzs section. He greeted me warmly, remembering how I like my coffee. I decided to take a risk and ask if his name was the Polish equivalent of Gregory. Thats right, he said, adding that he'd chosen to stay with Grzegorz for his nametag. Some interns anglicized their names, he explained, nodding toward Michael and confiding that hes really Mikhail from Russia.

I thought about that and, when he returned with my order, I asked him why. For a moment he seemed flustered, but quickly caught himself. He then went into a long explanation of how he wanted to learn here in America but only whats good. Back home, he told me, America is seen as a place of great opportunity but also great danger. People can change when they come here. They can lose their footing, become immoral.

So I asked what was his moral compass. That didn't register, so I asked if he followed a religion, did he have faith in God?

I wouldnt have been more surprised by Grzegorzs response if he'd poured coffee on me. No! he almost shouted. I have faith in me. I am strong and will guide myself. He busied himself with some tableware. Like old friends, we were arguing, and he was avoiding my eyes. But his professionalism returned. When the meal ended, he presented the bill with a courtly, It has been a pleasure, madam.

Okay, third times a charm, I thought, showing up again the next morning. This time Grzegorz was solicitous, telling me almost immediately that he should not have spoken that way about your country, your home. I referred to Americas guaranteed right to free speech and added that I notice a downward shift in morality in this country, too. Then I said: But I also see God at work doing wonderful things.

You lean on God, he stated in that way nonbelievers have of making dependence sound like a weakness. I have confidence in myself, I explained, but I trust God to show me the way.

I told him about a time in my life when God showed me that even my strongest abilities can be made stronger when Im serving Him. My new young friend seemed to consider that. I think he was secretly enjoying the banter.

Grzegorz figured out he wasnt rid of me yet when I switched to decaf and dawdled over the morning paper. Tidying up my table, he asked discreetly: I know youre staying to talk to me. What do you want?

I surprised even myself with my question: What would it take for a guy like you to go to church while youre here in America?

A ride, he blurted out.

A ride?

Yes, I don't have a car and neither do my roommates.

So now Grzegorz was suddenly open, throwing caution to the wind, but he needed...a ride? We explored this for a few moments, and I realized something profound. He and the other international interns were virtually isolated near this resort. His high ideals about not being corrupted by America and even his bluster of protection against change were mostly a defense mechanism against loneliness. It came down to something that practical. He didnt need an invitation to church as much as he simply needed a ride. He needed a local person to break the ice with him, strike up a conversation, show an interest, hear him out and...give him a lift. Simple.

Before my visit was over, I spoke to a security man I also had befriended. A fulltime employee and a Christian, as it turned out, he said he would make a point to contact Grzegorz and provide him with a ride to church. I hope and pray he did. Grzegorz has convictions and might trust the Lord if he could just hear more about Him.

Meanwhile, I talked to other international people I met at the resort, collecting their comments for this occasional feature I write for On Mission to provide insight into the barriers in our culture we must overcome if we are to reach nonbelievers with the gospel.

Carolyn Curtis is editor of On Mission.