My shoes were brand new! How on earth had the shoeshine guy convinced me they needed a polish?
I was in the bustling Johannesburg airport, with people, young and old, rushing to get to their boarding gates. Bumping, jostling, some were casually window shopping, while others stared at the elevated screens, checking their flight status. And there I was sitting in the shoeshine chair. He had stopped me just as I made it through security. Smartly dressed all in black, with a big beaming smile, he was both enthusiastic and persistent.
‘Sir, let me shine your shoes. I’ll make them good.’
‘No, thank you; besides, I don’t have any cash.’ I responded politely fully expecting the conversation to end there. After all, I needed to find my boarding gate for the connecting flight to Cape Town. I was hoping to squeeze in that desperately needed coffee after my twelve-hour flight from London.
‘Not to worry, sir. Let me shine them. I promise I’ll make them really good.’
‘Honestly, I don’t have any cash on me, and they are only trainers!’
‘Sir, look here, see this scuff mark,’ he said pointing to a grey smudge on the shiny white sole of my right shoe. ‘Let me make it good for you, don’t worry about the money’ he persisted, still with his big beaming smile.
I gave in. His enthusiastic persistence broke through my resolve, and I traded that coffee for a shoeshine I didn’t really need. As I sat down it dawned on me that it was only yesterday that I had bought this pair of shoes, yet somehow this guy, Mr Enthusiasm, had persuaded me into a shoeshine.
His friend joined us, and to my surprise began polishing my canvas bag. I was about to object but then thought better of it: I was curious. I started asking questions about their lives. Effortlessly, and naturally, the conversation steered towards their beliefs about God. Mr Enthusiasm seemed distracted, clearly thinking about the next customer he could persuade to his throne-like, shoe shining chair. But Mr Bag-polisher was becoming quietly vulnerable and shared his struggle with alcohol, and how he’d like to believe in God but thought God wouldn’t be interested in someone like him.
I asked if anyone had ever explained to them who God is and what He’s done for us. Mr Bag-polisher shook his head. ‘Would you like me to?’ With both responding with a firm yes, I briefly explained the good news of Jesus: what He’s done for us, and our need to be saved from our sin. I shared the vision of God’s glorious Kingdom. I outlined one or two key Bible passages and clarified the critical eternal choice we all need to make. Finally, I offered the opportunity for them to pray and accept Jesus’s glorious gift of eternal life.
Mr Enthusiasm politely declined and headed off in pursuit of another customer. But, Mr Bag-polisher was curious, though not yet persuaded. He said he was not ready, but asked if we could keep in touch. I gave him a gospel tract and we exchanged contact details.
At 4:14 a.m. the next morning I received this message on my phone: ‘Morning Frans…it’s me from airport the shoe cleaning guy…I will like to take the journey with you to know Jesus.’
What started as a reluctant, travel-weary conversation, ended in two precious people hearing the good news of Jesus, and one of them making a decision of eternal consequence.
How ready do you feel to have a conversation like this?
I want to propose, that if you don’t feel very ready, that with God, you are more ready than you think.