I saw him in the Dallas airport while waiting to board my flight to Portland, OR. He looked like one of my college students with his somewhat rumpled, thoughtfully mismatched clothes and his baseball cap on backwards. I filed him under "too much energy" and returned to Caleb's Crossing, a book about a missionary working with Native Americans in Massachusetts. He was the last person to board the plane where he took his assigned seat right next to me. He cheerfully introduced himself as "Christian" and thus began a three hour church service in the air. He had just graduated from college with a degree in psychology and had taken a job with no salary working as a missionary to Native Americans in Oklahoma. I commented on the appropriateness of his name, and he said that when he was young he hated it and refused to answer to anything but "Opie." We shared our experiences of faith and the questions and ideas that we have about God. At one point he spontaneously broke into a prayer over me. Before we disembarked he gave me two CDs. One contained a sermon delivered by Heidi Baker, a pentecostal missionary to Africa and the other was a collection of rap music with Christian lyrics. I can honestly say that it's unlikely that I would have ever come across either of those things without a chance encounter with a Christian on a journey. I was captivated by Mrs. Baker's account of God's miracles among the orphans that she cares for in Mozambique. As for the rap, well, I'm still learning to appreciate that.