I saw him. He saw me.
At the mall.
“Are you still handing out those Million-dollar bill Gospel tracts? You know that you are not supposed to do that,” 19-year-old Ryan stated flatly, his badge glistening in the setting sun.
“Yes, I am,” I admitted, “and I will stop. BUT! I will be using Illusion Tracts instead.” I pulled out two from my shirt pocket.
“I can still have conversations with people using these! And I promise I won’t give them to anybody!”
“Well… the other security guards may not like it.” Ryan sounded apprehensive.
“There is still no law against my having conversations with people…” I reminded. I smiled, then walked away. Ryan kept his well-trained eye on me until I was out of sight.
Two weeks later, Ryan spotted me walking down the main aisle. I saw him before he spotted me. He knew that I knew that he knew why I was there: to seek and to save that which is lost—and I was using the verboten Million Dollar Bill Gospel Tract!
I averted my eyes. He did, too, and kept walking.