Spirit‑Led Steps in Biloxi
That’s the tension I live in. I love Scripture. I’m the “dig deeper” guy. But the Author I love keeps inviting me from the page into the harvest. “Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit” (Zechariah 4:6 KJV) isn’t a pretty verse for a coffee mug. It’s either the rule of the day, or we’re just performing for each other. I don’t want performance. I want presence.
Packing the Trunk, Checking My Heart
It was going to get cold on the Coast, which means the little things matter even more. Susan and I have learned to keep it simple: dollar‑store snacks, water bottles, toothbrushes from the flea market, travel toothpaste if we can find it cheap, Bibles—always Bibles. We’ve even made scarves out of inexpensive fleece because warmth is ministry when the temperature drops. Jesus ties our love for Him to how we treat “the least of these” (Matthew 25:35‑40 KJV). You can’t read that and then step over people.
I’d like to tell you I was brimming with faith. Truth is, I was hopeful and a little wobbly. I’ve heard God powerfully before, and I’ve also chased my own ideas. That’s why I say it out loud now: “Lord, if this is You, confirm it. And if it’s just me, please shepherd me anyway.”
A Pier, Two Bicycles, and the Presence That Does the Heavy Lifting
On the way to the library we stopped at the pier. Two men sat by their bikes. I opened with a corny line—“Hey, free bicycles!”—and we all laughed. The ice broke. We asked names. We listened. One man told me about the pawn shop Katrina took from him, about sleeping rough for years, about the friend beside him who watches his back. I’ve learned that listening is a prayer too. It says, “You matter.”
When we finally prayed, the air changed. I have no better way to describe it. My words weren’t special. But the Holy Spirit was. One of the men was visibly moved. I’ve long since stopped trying to win arguments; I’d rather usher the presence of God and let Him do what only He can. Paul said his preaching wasn’t with “enticing words” but in “demonstration of the Spirit and of power” (1 Corinthians 2:4‑5 KJV). That’s what it felt like—God doing the heavy lifting while we stood there with open hands.
Sowers Don’t Stare at Dirt
As we left the pier, I caught myself wondering about results—about what would happen next, about whether the prayers would "work," about whether these men would actually open the Bibles we'd given them. Pastors, by training and by habit, love metrics; we want to see baptisms, decisions, measurable growth. Farmers, on the other hand, love rain—they understand that some things are simply beyond their control, that they can plant and water but they cannot manufacture the harvest. Jesus tells us a profound truth when He describes the sower who sleeps and rises night and day, "and the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how" (Mark 4:27 KJV). That passage is liberating if you truly let it be, if you allow it to sink deep into your heart and redefine what it means to be faithful. We sow the seed—that's our part, our responsibility, our calling. God grows the harvest—that's His part, His sovereignty, His power at work in ways we may never fully understand. Some fruit ripens in a moment, like the thief on the cross beside Jesus. Some fruit takes a decade to mature, growing slowly through seasons of struggle and breakthrough. And some fruit appears only after we're gone, long after we've left this earth, when someone finally remembers a word we spoke or a kindness we showed and it becomes the turning point in their journey. Faithfulness, I've come to understand, is simply obedience multiplied by time—it's showing up consistently, trusting God with outcomes we cannot control, and refusing to measure our worth by results we may never see.
The First "No" and the Orchestrated Traffic
We finally made it near the library. Across the street, a man sat alone. I thought, “That’s him. The reason for the snapshot.” We crossed with a bag and a Bible and a willingness to pray. He wanted none of it. I stood there with my good intentions and a knot in my stomach. Did I miss the Lord? That old second‑guessing monster is never far away.
Traffic was thick enough to pen us in on the curb for a minute, and in that delay I felt the Lord’s kindness. A bus bench was just up the sidewalk. I heard myself ask the people waiting, “Anybody need prayer?” A woman said yes so quickly it startled me. She had found her roommate dead, and now the grief had a landlord attached to it. We prayed in the roar of cars, and the peace that passes understanding didn’t ask for quiet first. James says, “Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed” (James 5:16 KJV). Right there on the bench, she started opening up, naming burdens, letting them go. The Lord came like warm oil over cold water.
The Library Steps, Just Like the Picture
When we finally stood in front of the library—the exact image from the shower—a woman didn’t even wait for pleasantries. “I need prayer bad,” she said, and she meant it. We prayed. I put a small Bible in her hands and watched her grip it like a lifeline. A man named Mike was nearby, charging his phone. He lit up when we talked chess—openings, traps, the middle game. Connection isn’t a trick; it’s love wearing whatever clothes are nearby. Mike asked for prayer for his son, so we prayed with the same expectation we’d pray for a king.
As we said “Amen,” I sensed someone behind me and to the left. Sometimes the Spirit taps you on the shoulder; sometimes He nudges you between the ribs. I turned, and a woman from upstate New York said her own “Amen.” Before she spoke another word, I recognized the smell of the old life I’d left—the counterfeit spirituality I once chased when I didn’t know the Shepherd’s voice. Jesus said take the beam out first, then you can see clearly to help with the speck (Matthew 7:3‑5 KJV). That day, what I once repented of became a key in my pocket. We prayed Jesus over the places that had lied to her, and the truth settled like a weight that sets a picture straight on the wall.
Compass, Not Blueprint
People often ask me how they can truly know and discern the will of God for their lives, and when they do, I find myself thinking about that pivotal moment in Acts chapter 16, when the apostle Paul was absolutely certain and convinced that he was supposed to preach the gospel in Asia, but then the Holy Spirit specifically forbade him from going there—and it wasn't until later, through a night vision, that God redirected and shifted his entire trajectory toward Macedonia instead. And what happened as a result of that redirection? An entire jailer's household came to faith and found salvation through Jesus Christ. The Lord, in my experience, rarely if ever hands me a detailed spreadsheet or a comprehensive blueprint of all the next steps I should take. Instead, He gives me a general direction to follow, a gentle nudge in my spirit, sometimes a specific face that I can't shake from my mind, or a particular place that keeps coming up. Jesus Himself is described as the way, the truth, and the life, and I believe that ways are meant to be walked out step by step in faith and obedience, not meticulously diagrammed or mapped out in advance with every detail pre-planned.
The Trunk Theology of Street Ministry
We keep our trunk stocked and supplied like a traveling altar, ready at a moment's notice: fleece scarves for warmth, bottled water for thirst, peanut‑butter sandwiches for hunger, toothbrushes and travel toothpaste for dignity, and Bibles—always Bibles—for the soul. None of those individual items feel particularly miraculous or supernatural when you're standing in the checkout line purchasing them at the dollar store. But when they are placed in the right hands at exactly the right time, under the guidance and direction of the Holy Spirit, they are mysteriously transformed and elevated into sacraments of practical, tangible love—physical expressions of the gospel made manifest in everyday objects. "Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world" (James 1:27 KJV). We don't need to overthink obedience or complicate what God has made simple. We need to overstock compassion, to be abundantly prepared with the tools and resources that allow us to meet people's needs the very moment the Holy Spirit orchestrates a divine appointment.
What the Lord Pressed Into My Heart
That day reminded me that God is a master of small obediences. A snapshot in the shower became a woman comforted at a bus stop, a chess‑playing dad interceding for his son, a hungry heart clutching a Bible, and a former New Ager hearing the name that frees captives. I didn’t orchestrate any of it. I just kept saying yes.
And yes, I still wondered on the drive home if I did it right. I’m learning that wondering is okay as long as it doesn’t keep me from going again. The field is wide. The Lord of the harvest is kind. And He likes to use people who admit they’re still learning His voice.
“And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.” (Galatians 6:9 KJV)
Action Items
- Ask the Lord for one person to bless this week. Write the name down and pray daily.
- Assemble 5 simple care bags and keep them in your vehicle.
- Memorize 3 pocket verses: Matthew 25:35‑40, James 5:16, Luke 4:18 (KJV).
- Practice asking, “How can I pray for you right now?” and then listen longer than feels comfortable.
- Journal your encounters that same day. Look for God’s fingerprints in the traffic, timing, and “interruptions.”
Final Encouragement
You don’t need a trumpet to obey a whisper. If all you have is a snapshot, take the step it points to. The worst that can happen is you loved someone in Jesus’ name. The best that can happen is heaven touches earth on a pier, at a bus stop, or on the steps of a library—and you get to be there when it happens.
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