Though I’m not a frequent flyer, I do find myself on airplanes a handful of times each year. Always hoping for a nap, I prefer the window seat with a wall to lean on. Sleeping isn’t guaranteed, though, since most planes are over-sold, giving every passenger a seatmate. Anything can happen.

Last week, sitting on a 747 and eyeing the travelers coming down the aisle, I caught a young man smiling broadly at me. When he stopped at row 19, I knew I’d met my seatmate. “Hi!” he said, sticking his hand out to shake mine. “My name’s Hunter. What’s yours?”

I had no choice but to talk with him, though I wondered about my nap. But I quickly learned he was a sophomore at Wheaton, my alma mater, majoring in literature, my major. We had fun swapping Wheaton stories, favorite professors, and best books. Then he told me that after graduation he hoped to work in an inner-city with underprivileged kids, bringing practical help and the Gospel along with him.

Hunter and I chatted for 20 minutes, after which he buried his nose in a philosophy book, and I got my nap. My last thought before drifting away was how delightful it had been meeting this godly young student who wasn’t even 21 yet. He’d already committed to going wherever God would take him and felt strongly the two of them would be working with the poor.

Hunter radiated joy in the Lord. Though he had already worked in cities and was acquainted with the severity of problems, he wanted to bring hope and help anyway. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to solve every dilemma hadn’t diminished his enthusiasm because, as he said, his confidence was in God, not himself.

I’ve thought a great deal about Hunter’s words that day and about his bright, joyful delivery. His exuberance was contagious. Nothing discouraged him, not the pressure of academics or his youthfulness or even the gloomy news of global chaos. That’s because his confidence was in God alone.

We can volunteer in aid organizations and give money to Christian causes, but personal grounding in a tumultuous world can only come when our optimism is linked to the Lord. And if we believe he is who he says he is, we can smile as broadly as Hunter.

As our plane made its way to the gate that day, Hunter re-opened our conversation. “Miss Margaret, may I pray for you?”

This conversation with God lasted till we had pulled into gate C3, till the seat belt sign had been turned off, till people were standing in the aisles, and till the plane doors had been opened. He requested God’s blessing on me, my family, my writing, my future, and my witness for Christ, claiming half a dozen Scripture passages in the process.

I was stunned and delighted by this gift — and challenged to always make sure my hope is in God alone.

“The fruit of the Spirit is…. joy.” (Galatians 5:22)