As I sat down in my seat on the small jet, I couldn't help but notice my "seat mate" for the two-hour flight. He was embroiled in an intense cell phone conversation. I was shoulder to shoulder with him except when he turned toward the window to try to capture some privacy.

He was doing his best to control his anger and keep his voice down. I didn't have to eavesdrop; the conversation was unavoidable for two rows of passengers in either direction.

He was talking to his former wife.

Listening to him was like watching a sword fight where you can only see one of the competitors. With his blade he verbally sliced and pierced the woman on the other end of the phone. I felt like she put up a noble fight, but his conversation ended with a verbal decapitation when he reminded her, "And YOU are NO longer my WIFE!" He then demanded that she put their daughter on the phone. (I later learned that she was 12 years old and that the woman had not been his wife for the past five years.)

When his daughter came on the phone, Lancelot became a puppy. It was a personality transplant. He began by warmly and compassionately asking her if she had taken her medication? He bribed her to take her medication by promising he'd send her a pack of gum each day she did so (a great motivator for a 12 year old girl!). He concluded his conversation with his daughter with one last thrust of the sword as he told his daughter that her mom was a "wimp."

I began talking with him, and it turned out to be one of the most fascinating conversations I've had on a plane. At one point this noble warrior informed me there was a difference between being a father and a parent. "Any man can be a father," he said, "but being a parent takes a real commitment. Hard work." I wondered what his definition of commitment and hard work was … and how this father who lived in the Northwest could be a parent to a preteen daughter who lived in the Midwest. And when he informed me that his children needed a model, I wondered what his definition of "model" was.

He mentioned that he was living with a woman, and they were expecting a child. I asked if the baby's birth might lead them to get married, and his response was, "Why spoil a good thing with a piece of paper?"

As I sat there listening to him I was tempted to judge him and say exactly what I thought about him. But as I sat there at 38,000 feet, and even higher in my own self-righteous assessment, God reminded me of something: What is this man's real need? What does this man need to hear from me?

God reminded me that I am a sinner saved by grace. This story could easily be my story if He had not saved me as a young man. This man's real need was to know God's love and forgiveness. He had made a mess of his life and he needed to know the One who could help him clean it up.

As I inquired about his relationship with God, the man told me about his accident three years ago. He rolled his pickup truck several times and was pronounced dead at the scene of the accident. After a few minutes he was resuscitated, but he said that while he was "dead" he "saw a hand come out of the light and push him back toward his earthly life."

I responded by asking him if he believed God has a reason for his life? A purpose? When he nodded in affirmation, I went on to take the next 10 minutes to share the Gospel with him. That was his real need.

One would think that someone who had been through such an experience would be spiritually receptive to the Gospel. He wasn't. Like many others, he was determined to reach God on his terms, not God's. Jesus Christ may be the Way for me, but not for him.

It was a fresh reminder that the real need of people who live and work around us is to know God. Their real need is to experience His love and forgiveness. That's why we celebrate Easter—Jesus Christ died for our sins and was raised on the third day so that if we humble ourselves and receive Him as our Lord and Savior we can be forgiven.

What other hope can you offer someone who has made a mess of his life?

No, this man did not make a commitment to Christ. My responsibility is to be faithful to share Christ with others and give them the opportunity to surrender to Him. I did what I was supposed to do.

I hope that man won't forget our conversation. I certainly won't. I'm still praying for him. Perhaps there's someone in your life you need to share the gospel with today.