Chris

Yes, that's his real name. I never learned his last name.  I don't think about him much these days, but he came to mind on Friday.  Part of me wishes I could find out what happened to him and find out where he is today.  Only God knows.  Maybe one day God will reveal it to me.  I pray I will see Chris in Heaven.

Good Friday, 1999
I was about 5 months into my career as a flight attendant and was partially through my time as a "reserve" (meaning I had certain days I was on call and the airline scheduled me as they saw fit, with no input from me).  I had been gone for the past 4 days and was really looking forward to getting home.  The last leg of my trip wasn't one I was working, but one I was being paid to fly home on as a passenger (called deadheading).  I don't remember my crew or anything about the trip up to that point, but I remember that by the time we got to the gate in Las Vegas I was tired and cranky. Everyone and everything, including the crew members I was flying with, were driving me crazy and I just wanted to get home. When we arrived at our gate in Las Vegas for the return flight to Phoenix one of the ladies I was flying with decided we should all try to sit together.  The gate agent was doing her best to assign us seats near each other, but I told her I didn't care where I sat.  I took the first boarding pass I was given and I went down the jetway to the empty airplane. 

As I boarded the 757, boarding pass in hand for a window seat, I was excited to see a had a row to myself. I put my rolling 22" suitcase in the overhead compartment and placed my small "gadget bag" under the seat in front of me.  I'm normally an extrovert and a people person, but I wanted quiet and rest on the way home.  I'd known from past experience that deadheading, in uniform (as I was) was a lightning rod for unsolicited comments and questions from those in the seats around me.  I was in no mood to be someone's sounding board about their experiences with my employer.

I settled into my seat as boarding continued, thanking God for some quiet, and opened my book The Jesus I Never Knew by Philip Yancey.  As I read, Yancey mentioned how he'd made it a personal tradition to read through the Gospels during Holy Week.  Realizing that it was Good Friday I decided I would take the time to read through the Gospel of John on the hour long flight to Phoenix.  My Bible was inside my bag that was in the overhead compartment, so I retrieved it and sat back down to read God's Word.

Just as I read, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  He was with God in the beginning." I noticed someone sitting in the aisle seat in my row.   "Shoot," I thought, "there goes my quiet flight".   I consoled myself by being thankful the middle seat was empty and that this teenager would probably want to keep to himself.


I remember trying to read my Bible and tune out God's nudging to talk to the teenager on the aisle.  I remember trying to tune God out and saying something to the effect of, "Ok fine, God.  If you want me to talk to him, he's going to have to initiate the conversation"  (Real brave of me, huh?)


This part of the flight was a blur. I don't remember how the conversation started, but I know my row mate had to have initiated it.  I remember that his appearance reminded me a bit of the "Goth" style of dress that was popular in the late 90's.  He had dyed, spiked black hair, black nail polish, black fishnets on his arms and a black t-shirt from a band I'd never heard of, but whose shirt looked fairly disturbing to me. 

Though I'm not sure what started our conversation, I remember we talked about music (and that I was not a fan of the Marilyn Manson album he had pulled out to put in his Discman as soon as we reached 10,000 ft.).  I remember we talked about his troubled family life.  I remember we talked about what he liked to do for fun (smoke pot).  As a Secondary Education major who had done my student teaching, and as someone who had worked with jr. high and high school students at church for years, I was not surprised by the things he was saying.   I didn't judge anything he told me but wasn't shy about voicing my opinion when he asked.  We had a great conversation about right and wrong and where I believed Truth came from.  (I did, afterall, have my Bible in my lap).  I found out my rowmate's name was Chris, he was 16 and he lived in Las Vegas.  Chris was travelling alone to spend Spring Break in Phoenix with a friend who had  recently moved there.

At some point Chris asked me if I believed Hell was real.  I told him I did and he asked how I could be so sure.  The previous Sunday my pastor had taught out of Luke 16 and Jesus' parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus.  Because message was so fresh in my mind I was able to go straight to the chapter and  read to Chris the passage where Jesus says,  

"The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham's side.  The rich man also died and was buried.  In hell, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side.  So he called to him, 'Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in the water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire."  Luke 16:22-25

As our flight made it's final descent into Phoenix I was able to share my story with Chris and I was able to tell him why I follow Jesus. I asked Chris if he'd like my Bible and wrote down a few verses for him.  I don't remember all that I wrote but I remember writing down John 3:16 & 17,

 "For God so loved the world, that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish by have eternal life.  For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him."

I also remember writing down John 14:6, "I am the way, the truth, and the life.  No one comes to the Father except through me"

I knew that when I came to faith in Jesus I didn't know how to look up chapters and verses.  I didn't know what the references meant, and I knew Chris was probably in the same situation.  The plane touched down and taxied down the runway before I could explain to Chris what the words and numbers I wrote down meant.  I panicked and silently cried out, "I need a few minutes, God. Just 10 more minutes".  Not 30 seconds after that thought passed through my head I heard the Captain come over the PA and say, "Ladies and Gentlemen.  Our gate is not ready and we need to wait 10 minutes on the tarmac before we can pull in" Wow!  Only God!

I proceeded to give Chris "instructions" on how to find the chapters and verses I had written down.

The next Sunday, on Easter, I shared with my College/Career Group about Chris and asked them to pray for him.


One Week Later
As a reserve I had no control of my flights and was at the mercy of crew scheduling.   I was assigned 4 legs between Phoenix and Las Vegas.  I was an "extra" crew member assigned to help the crew out on the full flights between our two busies hubs as Spring Break ended.  I was in (another) foul mood and really didn't want to go to work that day.    I wasn't needed on any of the 4 flights I worked that day because they already had a crew assigned to meet the FAA requirements.  I'd considered calling in sick, but knew I needed the hours so I went in.

After I worked one round trip from Phoenix to Las Vegas I boarded a 757 in Phoenix for my 2nd "Vegas Turn" of the day.  I introduced myself to the crew already working the flight and told them I was their extra. My other crew members asked me to stand by the door and greet passengers as they boarded.  I plastered a smile on my tired face and welcomed our passengers aboard, directed them to their seats and helped them find space in the overhead compartments for their carry-on items.  About halfway through boarding I was mindlessly saying "Welcome" when I heard someone say, "Hi Heidi".  I looked up and realized I was face to face with Chris--my row mate from last week!  I was blown away.   I looked at Chris' boarding pass and took notice of his seat #, but knew I couldn't leave my station at the door until we'd closed the door and backed away from the gate.

Boarding was even more chaotic than ever and the first chance I had to stop by Chris' seat was after the safety demonstration, just before takeoff.  I went to the row where Chris was sitting and asked if he'd had a chance to read the Bible I'd given him.  He told me he'd read John 3:16 and it was "cool". Before I could really talk to him the Captain came over the PA and said, "Flight Attendants, take your seats".  I made my way to the back of the aircraft to my jumpseat and saw a man reading one of the books from the Left Behind series.  I interrupted his reading and blurted out, "Sir.  I'm going to guess by your book that you're a Christian.  I am too.  Last week there were a 16 year old kid on my flight that I had a chance to share the gospel with.  God put him back on my flight tonight.  Would you please pray for him?"  The man looked up at me and said, "I'm a youth pastor in Las Vegas.  I have a tract in the overhead.  Can I get it?"  I told him, "I'd love for you to get it, but not right now---we're about to take off".  I scrambled to my seat and buckled in just as I felt the nose lift off the ground.

Because we only had 40 minutes to serve 190 people the only interaction I had with the youth pastor was to grab a  tract from him as we passed by during the beverage service.  My interaction with Chris was just as brief.  I handed him the tract from the gentleman several rows back when I gave him his soda and let him know I would be praying for him.

That was the last time I saw Chris.

Every once in awhile God will bring Chris back to mind and I pray for him.  It's been nearly 13 years since our conversation and he's probably around 29.  I wonder where he is and what he's doing.  I wonder about the seed I planted and I pray that others will be able to harvest it.

This past Friday night was one of those nights.  I tell you this story so that you, too can pray for him.