I blew an opening the Lord provided the other night, I think. It didn't occur to me that I blew it until the following morning, though, when I was thinking about the amusing telephone poll I'd participated in the night before.

It was four nights before the presidential election, and the newscasters were buzzing about a titillating turn of events. “Would this affect the election?” they asked. “Will the candidate be able to come back from such a blindside shot?” As always, my husband and I were loudly voicing our opinions back to the newscasters, not caring whether we would be heard or not. Suddenly, the phone rang. The gentleman identified himself as being from the Gallup Organization and he wanted to ask me a few questions. “Yes!” I thought triumphantly. Someone was finally asking for my opinion.

“We are taking a survey about your local Yellow Pages today,” he said, “and we'd like to ask you about your use of your local Yellow Pages. Okay?”

The Yellow Pages? On a day like today, they wanted to ask me about the Yellow Pages? I wouldn't resist the opportunity to tease the poor guy. “Come on,” I said. “A national polling organization is finally asking for my opinion and you can't ask me something good? I mean, look at what's going on today! Are you sure you don't want to ask me about that?”

That got him laughing, and we continued to joke and chat through the survey. “...Now think about your ideal Yellow Pages and compare your local Yellow Pages to the ideal,” he said. “On a scale of one to five, with five being the ideal, how does it compare?” “My ideal Yellow Pages?” I cracked back, which sent him into a belly laugh. “What are the ideal Yellow Pages anyway? I suppose they should be yellow, with businesses listed in them. Well, let's see...yes, mine are yellow. And look...businesses!” I laughed. He laughed. We really made quite a good time of it. And in the background, the political furor continued.

Recognizing the Signs

At the end of the survey, he said, “Thank you from the National Gallup Organization for completing our survey, and on a personal note, I want to thank you for your good sense of humor.”

On any other day, I might have recognized the signs. The friendly nature that this business conversation had taken, the silly chit-chat that extended the phone call beyond its normally expected length, and now, the clear opening for me to lift up the name of the Lord and give Him glory. Yes, these were the signs that generally indicated to me that the Lord was doing something here. Under these conditions, I probably should have said something like, “I can afford to be good-humored. I have Jesus in my life.” On a properly prepared pair of ears, this would likely have elicited a question about my faith or some other comment that would have allowed me to elaborate. But on this day, my antennas were down. I was thinking about politics. I was thinking about work issues. And I was thinking my hungry husband who had just come in early and wanted dinner. So I said, “You are very welcome,” and left it at that.

I don't always blow it. The same opening happened to me before. Several years ago, I was writing a column for a commercial printing magazine and I got an email from an enthusiastic crowd in Colorado. My picture was run with the column, and the tone was clearly flirtatious, which caused my husband to spring to readiness to locate and strangle the participants in the mischievous group. At the end of the email, however, was a comment that caught my eye. It said, “There is something about your expression that we really like... a light that is in your eyes.”

That was the opening I needed. Instead of writing back a “how dare you — I'm married” email, I used this comment as a springboard to tell the Romeos of Colorado about my husband and our joy of Jesus together. “If you see a light in my eyes,” I said, “it's the love and peace that comes through a relationship with Jesus Christ. And that you can see Jesus in me, even through a photograph, touches me deeply. Thank you.” Not only did I honor my marriage by heading off any potentially inappropriate contact, but I got to be a witness for the love of the Lord.

Something similar happened about a year later. An environmental expert I worked with made a comment, completely out of the blue, about my voice. There was something in it, he said, something sweet that he couldn't put his finger on. He knew I was married, and there was nothing flirtatious in his intent, but he was curious. I laughed and said no, it couldn't possibly be my own sweetness he was sensing, for in my natural state I'm quite selfish and grouchy, really, so any sweetness must arise from a regenerated spirit that comes from a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. I gave all of the credit to Jesus, for it is His love for people that now lives in me.

Credit Where Credit is Due

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