A Milkshake, a Prayer, and a Life Lesson at Chick-fil-A

Today, I took my daughter Stella to Chick-fil-A — our regular daddy/daughter spot. It’s clean, consistent, and the food never misses. But more than anything, it’s the playground that seals the deal for her. The second she sees it, she’s drawn in like it’s got a tractor beam. That joyful sprint toward the slide is one of my favorite sights.

After finishing our meal and burning some energy with the other kids, she’d earned her dessert. As always, we went up to trade her toy for an ice cream cone. But today, something small changed. Instead of eating it in the truck, like we usually do, she asked if we could sit at a table inside. I’m so glad she did.

We slid into a booth right next to the drink station, and without realizing it, we took front-row seats to a quiet act of kindness that would stay with me far longer than anything else that happened today.

A man walked in. His clothes told the story before he even spoke. His shoes were heavy with caked-on mud, his hair tangled and unwashed, his beard more survival than style. He was clearly a traveler, someone who hadn’t had a warm bed — or a warm meal — in some time.

He gently asked if the restaurant had any extra food.

People nearby instinctively stepped away, keeping their distance. But he didn’t let that shake his kindness. He spoke softly. He smiled. He made conversation with those who responded, even if only halfheartedly. And then a manager appeared.

I couldn’t catch the whole conversation, but I did hear the manager say, clearly and warmly, that he wouldn’t be giving scraps or leftovers. He said he’d be honored to serve the man a full, hot meal — the same as anyone else would receive. But there was just one thing he asked in return:

“Would it be okay if I prayed with you first?”

The man agreed.

And right there, in the middle of a busy lunch rush, the manager didn’t wait. He didn’t ask him to step outside or over to the side. He simply laid a hand on the man’s shoulder and prayed.

There was no embarrassment. No shame. Just love. Genuine, reverent love in that prayer — the kind you can feel even if you can’t hear every word.

The man wasn’t treated like an inconvenience or a disruption to business. He was treated like the very reason Chick-fil-A had opened its doors that morning.

I leaned over and whispered to Stella, asking her to watch. She turned, cone in hand, and stared quietly. Then, without me asking, she bowed her head.

And that’s when it hit me: I love teaching my daughter life lessons — about kindness, compassion, humility — but today, I got to sit back and watch someone else do it for me. In a time when so many companies are working hard to sanitize every aspect of business for fear of offense, Chick-fil-A stands firm in who they are. Not just as a brand, but as a people. As a ministry.

They don’t just serve food. They serve people.

Today, my daughter didn’t just get an ice cream cone.
She got a glimpse of faith in action.
And I got a reminder that, sometimes, the most powerful lessons are taught without a single word spoken to you — just quietly, faithfully lived out in front of you.

Thank you, Chick-fil-A, for more than just lunch. Thank you for living your mission.