believe in "whatever evangelism." Doing whatever He asks wherever I go exercises my faith and keeps my heart thumping. I figure that’s how the disciples must have felt following Jesus into the great whatever. Even the saints of old seemed rather stretched and breathless. Why should it be different today? God hasn’t changed.

I try to make my responses to "whatever" instantaneous, but sometimes I’m downright hesitant. Often I’m so nervous, my voice shakes and my pulse flippity-flops as if I had just run four miles. How do you feel when you walk up to someone and say, "I believe God wants me to tell you that He loves you very much"? I’m usually scared to death. I regularly walk on the treadmill and work out on the equipment at the gym, but neither elevates my blood pressure as much as a call to share the love of Christ.

Once, while treadmilling, I noticed a girl crying. She and her boyfriend were having a serious discussion. I considered every possible circumstance—pregnancy, break up, a failed test. My mind flew as fast as my feet as I prayed for her. When she bolted for the locker room, I followed. I found her applying her makeup.

"I couldn’t help but notice—you seem pretty upset.

Is there anything I can do?"

She shook her head and forced a tiny smile.

"Well, I just wanted you to know I’m going to pray for you today. God loves you. He sent me in to tell you so."

Another day, I felt I should mention an uplifting movie to a girl exercising beside me. I asked if she had seen it and offered a brief, but intentionally God-centered review. I felt satisfied dropping the hint, but the next thing she said started my heart pounding. She explained that her cousin— who worked at a theater—could sneak her in that weekend. I didn’t want to alienate her. It’s easy to believe the lie that I could turn someone off to the gospel with the truth.

I pondered what to say as we followed each other down workout row. I found my tongue several machines later and said, "I hope you’ll buy a ticket instead. God would like that. He’s big on the truth, you know?" She looked amazed. I stared down at the weights. Then I heard her say, "I’ll do it!"

A week later a flat tire, multiple errands and delays put me two hours behind schedule. I still wanted to cram in a workout before going home. In the middle of my routine, my body shut down. I was drained before I’d hardly begun. I fought hard, but every machine made me feel as if I’d never exercised before.

Defeated and disgruntled, I asked God why, and headed for the car. Seven minutes later I happened upon an accident. I parked and ran to the young woman who stood sobbing beside her totaled vehicle. She was cradling something while her agitated mother peppered her with questions. Leona was scared, 150 miles from home, trying to protect her newborn daughter’s neck while wondering if the baby had suffered internal damage. The ambulance and police hadn’t arrived. I was first on the scene.

I made sure the baby was breathing and asked if I could pray aloud for them. With tears streaming down Leona’s grateful face, she nodded yes, as her mother gathered their scattered belongings.

Leona whispered that her mother didn’t share her faith in Christ and didn’t understand the power of prayer. Then a beautiful thing happened. Our spoken prayers blended together while her mother watched and listened. As I prayed, Leona added, "Thank you, Lord, for sending someone to pray for my mother and me when I was so scared and far from home. And I’m even more grateful to you for sending your Son to die for our sins. When an accident like this happens, I realize the security we have in knowing we will spend eternity with you if we trust Jesus as Savior and accept His sacrifice on our behalf. You love us so much, Father."

As the ambulance pulled up, I realized God had prompted me to leave the gym so I could encourage Leona and help her present the gospel to her mother. Suddenly we were partners together on mission. It was wonderful to realize that before I left the gym, before Leona had the accident, God knew her needs and mine. What an understanding God!