Sometimes the most meaningful moments begin with a simple phone call.
Recently, a Jewish friend of mine who serves with the municipal police called me with an unusual request. A man he cared deeply about had been seriously injured in a motorcycle accident and was recovering at Rambam Hospital in Haifa.
“Would you come with me and pray for him?”
His name is Shadi. He is an Arab Christian, and the accident had been devastating. A car had struck his motorcycle, badly crushing his leg. His injuries were so severe that doctors had to amputate it.
Only three days later, my friend picked me up and together we went to see him.
When I entered Shadi’s hospital room, I could see that he was facing much more than physical pain. In only a few days, his whole life had changed. There was fear, frustration, and the enormous question of what life would look like from here.
I wanted him to know that losing his leg did not mean losing his future.
I shared with him the story of another pastor I know who had also lost a leg following a terrible accident. Today, with the help of a prosthetic leg, he lives a full and active life. I reminded Shadi of the words of Romans 8:28—that God is able to work even through the hardest circumstances for the good of those who love Him. Then we prayed together.
I also gave Shadi an audio Bible so that during the long hours of recovery ahead, he could listen to the Word of God and find strength and encouragement.
That same day, something small but significant happened.
For the first time since his surgery, Shadi got out of bed. With the help of a pair of crutches, he stood and began taking a few steps. Afterward, we took him downstairs in a wheelchair simply to get him out of the hospital room and give him a change of surroundings. The smile on his face said a great deal.
But as I watched Shadi and the Jewish officer who had brought me there, something else touched me deeply. Here was a Jewish man who genuinely loved and cared for his Arab Christian friend. There were no slogans and no speeches—just one person seeing another person suffering and wanting to help.
And then God added another unexpected chapter to the day.
While I was at the hospital, Shadi’s father arrived. The moment I saw him, I recognized him.
He had been one of my close friends when we were young.
We had grown up in the same area and had known each other through our teenage years and into young adulthood. After so much time, there we were again—meeting in a hospital room beside his injured son.
I could not help but think about the way God had brought all of us together.
A Jewish municipal officer had called an Arab pastor to come and pray for his Arab Christian friend—who turned out to be the son of one of my own childhood friends.
For a few moments, that hospital room felt like a picture of the Israel we long to see: Jews and Arabs caring for one another simply as neighbors, friends, and one human family.
Shadi still has a long road of recovery ahead of him. He will need strength as he heals and learns to adjust to a new way of life. Please pray that God will encourage him, strengthen his family, guide every step of his rehabilitation, and draw Shadi closer to Himself.
Sometimes reconciliation begins with something as simple as a friend saying, “Someone I love is hurting. Will you come with me?”