Serving the Lord is pretty unpredictable business 'most always. I just never know what to expect. And it's pretty hard to plan sometimes, so I just gave up. It can be lonely and can have a lot of lows. At the same time, there are no commensurate highs. But it was during the hospital ministry that I learned I could always go higher.

For months, I had been visiting the sick in the intensive care unit. It's the last thing I ever thought I'd be doing. I didn't even know how to talk to such folks. But when a friend of mine needed a triple bypass, I just sort of fell into it, like most things in my life. God has a funny way of leading, you know. Next thing I know I was into a full-fledged ministry to intensive care patients and their loved ones.

I had never been to the hospital's chapel before, but on this particular occasion I wanted to celebrate because someone very special was going to be okay. Victor was, in all respects, the best human being I ever knew. He was hooked up to life-support systems, trying to overcome some difficulty with the travel of scar tissue in his body that had resulted from the original mishap. I can't figure how paraplegics get the fortitude to go on from day to day, even with God and everything. Some mornings, it's all I can do to get up. But Victor generally fought for every moment of his life like a treasure. And if I didn't know how to talk to regular sick people, just tell me how I was supposed to discuss the things I take for granted each day with a paraplegic. Somehow, though, Victor made it easy. And I felt remorse for every sorry second I'd ever wasted in my life.

Well when I arrived at the hospital on this occasion, Victor looked bad. He hadn't been sleeping and he hadn't been eating. God, it hurt to see the deterioration and his deflated spirit. He appeared to be losing a major skirmish here. He told me about how, over the low drone of his TV, he had overheard the ICU staff talking about euthanasia and patient's rights stuff. They'd said some patient all hooked up and everything didn't have any relatives, and they didn't know who was supposed to make the decisions about him. Then they talked about the recent death of some other patient in ICU. Well Victor had decided that he couldn't afford to close his eyes in this place. Can't say as I blamed him. But I looked up to God and silently pleaded for some good words. Well, after some time, I must have talked Vic right into dreamland. I knew that strength would come with the sleep. I suppressed one powerful "hallelujah" as I bounced down the hospital corridors. I just had to shout that "hallelujah" somewhere, so I went to find the chapel.

My spirit calmed as I entered the shadowed room, apparently not needed so late in the day. Checking along the wall for a light switch, I let my eyes get used to the darkness. I could make out some pretty stained glass windows along the sides providing a small amount of light in the room. When I flipped on the light, I saw a man kneeling up front before the altar. I was embarrassed to have interrupted the guy. He got up and walked over to me.

"Didn't mean to disturb you," I said.

"Oh, don't you worry," he said, smiling. "I was just reading that Bible over there."

It was a little dark to be reading, but I didn't give it much thought as I looked the guy over. He was whiteness from the top of his snowy head of hair to the soles of his shoes - white shirt, white pants, the works. He had a kind face and a firm, but gentle voice.

Following an exchange of names, he asked, "Are you a working visitor?"

Now that was a strange question. I turned the phrase over in my head, and I liked it. But how did he know? "Yeah, I guess you could say that," I said and I told him about my friend.

"Victor-," the stranger said thoughtfully, "I'll pray for him too."

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"My wife," he said. "They're operating on her right now." Pointing to the altar, he said "I've put her in the Lord's hands now." He seemed to be at peace with the decision. He looked as if he was holding some golden guarantee. "I call her Skipper," he said.

I could just imagine this woman named Skipper. I pictured a happy little lady full of laughter. A shiver ran through me. If I were waiting for someone to come out of surgery, I'd be a wreck. I couldn't figure how this guy got the wherewithal to be so peaceful. I shivered again. It must be wonderful to know God like that. "Isn't God just amazing," I said.

Laughing, he said "No, not just," and I laughed too.

"Let's pray," the stranger said. I tell you we walked down to the altar, knelt together, and started saying those words to the Lord's Prayer. Ever say those words real slow and careful? Oh my! Our hands, clasped together, lifted up toward Heaven just naturally, and one of us started the words to that song "Hal-le-lu-jah, Hal-le-lu-jah ..." just like I'd been wanting to say. I knew we weren't alone anymore. It was like being in Heaven at the feet of Jesus. I praised God for letting me know what it was like.

I don't recollect our coming to a close, but eventually we left the sanctuary. Outside the chapel, we reassured each other that the folks we had lifted up in prayer were in the best of hands and we parted. He went one way down the long corridor, and I turned to go the other.

As I walked, I realized I couldn't remember his name, and I thought if I really wanted to I couldn't even check on his wife. How could I ask about a "Skipper?". If I checked on who was in surgery at that time, would I find her? I wanted to turn and call after him, but suddenly I knew he wouldn't be there. I turned anyway, to an empty hallway. I stood there for awhile remembering what we had shared and a verse form Hebrews came into my head.

Be not forgetful to entertain strangers; for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

My days as a 'working visitor' didn't last but for a few more months as I fell into some new adventures, but I always kept in touch with Victor, and I never felt alone again.