Twenty years ago, Liz and I had no idea that a small decision in an airport would turn into a two-decade friendship.
We were standing in line at a checkout counter with some friends when an Iranian man was in front of us trying to check his bag. The worker behind the counter wouldn’t accept his cash, and he had no other way to pay to check his luggage. You could feel the tension rising. He needed to get on that flight.
Liz and I looked at each other and decided to put his bag on our credit card. He handed us the cash, grateful and a little relieved. What could have been a quick transaction turned into something more. We ended up sitting together in the terminal waiting to board. We talked. We laughed. We exchanged phone numbers. Later, we found each other on social media.
That was the beginning of our friendship with Farrokh.
Over the years we’ve kept up. Life updates. Family pictures. The normal rhythms of staying loosely but genuinely connected across continents. He has always been curious about Jesus. Not combative. Not dismissive. Just genuinely curious. He asks thoughtful questions. The kind of questions that matter.
This past week, when Iran was bombed, he was immediately on my mind. I reached out. He wrote back and said he and his family are safe. There was a strange mixture of hope and fear in his message. Hope, because he believes new leadership may come. Fear, because when nations shake, ordinary families feel it first. He doesn’t know what the future will hold. He doesn’t know if his family will be safe long term.
And that’s what war does. It rarely touches only policies and power structures. It touches fathers and mothers. Sons and daughters. It touches dinner tables and neighborhoods. It touches people like Farrokh.
I am not a geopolitical expert. I don’t pretend to know the right strategies for nations. I don’t know what the best outcomes are in complex global conflicts. But I do know this: war impacts innocent lives. And as followers of Jesus, we are called to be people of prayer and people of love.
Scripture tells us, “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone” (Romans 12:18). We may not be able to influence global decisions, but we can influence how we respond. We can pray. We can care. We can refuse to reduce people to headlines. We can remember that every person we see in the news is made in the image of God.
Would you pray for my friend Farrokh? Pray for his safety. Pray for his family. Pray for peace in his nation. Pray that in the uncertainty, he would encounter the steady, faithful love of Jesus.
And maybe this week, ask the Lord to show you who is in front of you, in line, in your neighborhood, in your workplace, who simply needs someone to see them.
Small kindness. Long faithfulness. A praying people in a shaking world.
peace,
Nick
We were standing in line at a checkout counter with some friends when an Iranian man was in front of us trying to check his bag. The worker behind the counter wouldn’t accept his cash, and he had no other way to pay to check his luggage. You could feel the tension rising. He needed to get on that flight.
Liz and I looked at each other and decided to put his bag on our credit card. He handed us the cash, grateful and a little relieved. What could have been a quick transaction turned into something more. We ended up sitting together in the terminal waiting to board. We talked. We laughed. We exchanged phone numbers. Later, we found each other on social media.
That was the beginning of our friendship with Farrokh.
Over the years we’ve kept up. Life updates. Family pictures. The normal rhythms of staying loosely but genuinely connected across continents. He has always been curious about Jesus. Not combative. Not dismissive. Just genuinely curious. He asks thoughtful questions. The kind of questions that matter.
This past week, when Iran was bombed, he was immediately on my mind. I reached out. He wrote back and said he and his family are safe. There was a strange mixture of hope and fear in his message. Hope, because he believes new leadership may come. Fear, because when nations shake, ordinary families feel it first. He doesn’t know what the future will hold. He doesn’t know if his family will be safe long term.
And that’s what war does. It rarely touches only policies and power structures. It touches fathers and mothers. Sons and daughters. It touches dinner tables and neighborhoods. It touches people like Farrokh.
I am not a geopolitical expert. I don’t pretend to know the right strategies for nations. I don’t know what the best outcomes are in complex global conflicts. But I do know this: war impacts innocent lives. And as followers of Jesus, we are called to be people of prayer and people of love.
Scripture tells us, “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone” (Romans 12:18). We may not be able to influence global decisions, but we can influence how we respond. We can pray. We can care. We can refuse to reduce people to headlines. We can remember that every person we see in the news is made in the image of God.
Would you pray for my friend Farrokh? Pray for his safety. Pray for his family. Pray for peace in his nation. Pray that in the uncertainty, he would encounter the steady, faithful love of Jesus.
And maybe this week, ask the Lord to show you who is in front of you, in line, in your neighborhood, in your workplace, who simply needs someone to see them.
Small kindness. Long faithfulness. A praying people in a shaking world.
peace,
Nick