The Contractor Who Wasn’t Listening

It started like any other walk-through. On a very hot June day in Seattle, which is very unusual.
He showed up on our jobsite - clipboard in hand, boot , eyes scanning every corner of the building, He was here to review corrections, not preach. But the Holy Spirit had something else in mind.

We talked shop for a minute. Then something shifted.

“I used to be in prison,” he said bluntly, almost like he was testing me to see if I’d flinch.
He wasn’t proud of it. Just honest. That kind of rawness usually means the Holy Spirit is nearby.

His wife, he said, goes to church faithfully. She’s always been steady in that. He goes with her sometimes—“because she drags me,” he added with a half-smile. But then he admitted something most people never say out loud:

“I just sit there. I don’t really listen. I don’t take it in.”

I didn’t judge him. I just leaned in and asked, “Why not?”

That’s when it came:
He told me he’s waiting to get his life fully clean before he accepts Jesus.
He wants to be perfect before he gets baptized.
He wants to be worthy before he comes to the cross.

I told him gently—but directly:

“You don’t get clean and then come to Jesus.
You come to Jesus, and He cleans you. That’s the gospel.”

I could see it hit him.
I told him about the Holy Spirit.
How He convicts—not to shame us—but to call us forward.
How Jesus didn’t bleed for perfect people—He bled for the broken.

He got quiet.

Then he told me about a moment in church when the preacher was calling people to come up for prayer. He felt it. He felt something heavy and holy pulling on his chest. But he didn’t go.

I looked him in the eyes and said, “That wasn’t just emotion. That was the Holy Spirit. He was calling you. Don’t ignore that voice when it comes again.”

He nodded slowly.
And before we parted ways, he mentioned the church again—the same one I had been feeling drawn to for weeks. The same one I’d been trying to find for months, but didn’t know the name of. That was my final confirmation.

What’s the Point?

Sometimes God sends a preacher.
Other times, He sends a contractor.

This man doesn’t know it yet—but he might be the reason I walk into that church on this coming Sunday.
And maybe I’m one of the reasons he walks into the Kingdom.

Because God doesn’t just use altars and pulpits.
He uses job sites and scuffed boots.
He uses convict stories and unfinished walls.
He uses you, and He uses me.

“How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news.” – Romans 10:15