Friday, May 30, 2008

God at the Gas Station

Armed with a fresh pot of chai, I'm ready to post my first blog...

Yesterday started out normal. I woke up early, went to a meeting at work and was home by 9:00am. I consumed my ritual morning coffee, checked out the news headlines, listened to some tunes and relaxed. I remembered that I needed to return an external hard drive to Best Buy and felt that tinge of excitement knowing that I was about to get some ill-spent money back. I grabbed the goods, along with the receipt, and set out to "earn" a little cash.

I left with a bit of anxiety, thinking perhaps that my refund request might be denied and that I'd be stuck with a useless peice of computer hardware. That wasn't the case. After standing in line for about 45 seconds, approaching the customer service clerk and making my request, no questions were asked, and in a matter of a couple of minutes I was out the door. Armed with $77.93 in my pocket I began to imagine what I might be able to do with my newly aquired cash treasure. My gas tank was on empty, and I knew that it would take at least $75 to fill my tank. But, of course, that wouldn't be a very exciting use of my wallet full of cash, so I pulled into the gas station, pulled out my debit card and concluded that my hard earned cash would be put to use on something more worthwhile.

Before I even had a chance to start pumping gas I was approached by a lady who had been at the gas station ahead of me.

"Do you mind helping me out?" came the question. "I'm homeless. I live in my truck. I need money for gas and food."


Instantly, I heard my $77.93 crying out from my pocket. "I'm here! And I'm not for you."

I didn't hesitate. Correction, I couldn't hesitate.

"Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you."

These are the words of Jesus, spoken many years ago to those who follow him. These are words that I often hate to hear. Words that cut against the grain of my selfishness. Words that take away from my pervading self-interests. Words that cannot be ignored.

I knew what I had to do. I pulled out my wallet and opened it. There inside, my nicely folded and faced cash- two ones, a five, a ten, and three twenties. My attention was first drawn to the ten, then to the five and the ones. I felt angry. Upset that I had been cornered. Sure that I was being lied to, manipulated, taken advantage of.

"If someone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles."

Again, the ancient words of Jesus. Again, I knew. I pulled out a twenty and handed it to her and wished her well. She looked down, threw her head back in surprise and said "Wow!" Then she quickly walked away, as if I might suddenly realize that I had given her more than I intended.

Funny thing is, I did give her more than I intended. Left up to me, I would have politely said "no" to her request. Or, at the most, I would have pulled out a couple of ones, acted like that's all I could spare and sent her on her way.

But that couple of dollars would not have been all I could have spared. I didn't need any of that cash in my wallet, though I certainly wanted it. My bills are paid. I'm well fed. I have a comfortable place to live. Sure, there's plenty more that I want, but nothing more that I need.

The thing is, I don't believe I was acting alone in this encounter. I'm pretty sure God was there, reminding me of how He wants me to live- with open hands and a generous heart. Jesus, during his time on earth, taught more about generosity with one's possessions than he did on heaven and hell combined. I think a lot of people who follow Jesus get so caught up in reducing their faith to what happens after they die that they forget how to live. Jesus didn't seem to forget though. And he doesn't seem to forget to remind us every chance he gets.

To prove my point that he reminds us often, let me share the rest of the story...

As soon as this lady walked away from me, I turned to begin pumping my gas. There in front of me stood a man with a gas can. I immediately felt my wallet get lighter and my heart get heavier. He asked me a couple of questions. He gave a couple of explanations. Truth is, I couldn't understand much of what he said because of his thick accent. But his words didn't matter. Once again, I knew.

I filled his can with gas for him before I started pumping my own gas. He politely said "thank you" and proceeded to his car to transfer his gas. Irritation blended with relief as I began to finally pump my own gas. I watched with disgust as the little box indicating number of gallons pumped crawled up at a snail's pace and the little box indicating my total cost shot up like a bullet out of a gun.

Then the voice behind me...

"Hey man. Was that lady with you?"

"I'm sorry." I replied.

"That lady in that truck. Was she with you?"

"No." I answered shortly, trying to avoid eye contact.

"Oh. Okay. Well, listen man. My truck just ran out of gas. I saw you over here, and you seem like a nice guy and all."

The red glimmer of this guy's gas can sent a shockwave through my body. It was at least twice as large as the previous guy's can. Now I knew I was being taken advantage of. He had seen me help two other people. Now it was his turn. Again, everything in me wanted to get away, to say "no," to move to the suburbs. And again, I knew.

"Hey man," I replied. "Give me a minute to finish up here and I'll fill your gas can for you."

As I was pumping my gas, the man (his name is Darrell) told me a bit of his story. He lived in New Orleans when Katrina hit. He had owned a custom auto body shop that he lost in the hurricane. He had moved to Dallas and was teaching welding classes, barely making it. He had returned to New Orleans, or at least tried. Now he was back in Dallas. Still a refugee. Still barely getting by.

I finished pumping my gas and began filling his can. After a couple of dollars worth he stopped me.

"You don't have to fill it, man. You're already at like three dollars."

These words were actually the most comforting of the day. He wasn't trying to take advantage of me afterall. He, quite simply, had a need and asked for some help.

"Oh. No worries. I'll at least give you five dollars worth."

And so I did. And I wondered to myself how many people in our city simply have a need, and when they ask for help we get so irritated, selfish or paranoid that we blow them off, refuse to help, look the other way, ignore them and walk away immersing ourselves in self-justification or grumbling our complaints against these strangers.

One of the most important things I learned when I lived in India in 2004 is, "it could have been me." For six months I was surrounded by some of the most poor, downtrodden and suffering people in the world. And all I could think about, everywhere I saw them, was, "it could have been me."

I didn't choose to be born into a middle income family in America, with the skills and mental capacity to earn a living for myself. I haven't chosen to avoid natural disaster. I haven't chosen to avoid being severely victimized by a slowing economy. I've been lucky, actually. Or blessed, some might say. Never in my life have I had to worry about where my next tank of gas or meal or pair of clothes would come from. I've always had exactly what I need. But not everyone is so fortunate...

And every time I see someone less fortunate, someone struggling in ways that I've never had to struggle, I remind myself, "It could have been me..."

And if it was me? If I had the courage to ask for help? How would I want people to respond?

"Do to others as you would have them do to you..."

God was at the gas station yesterday. Reminding me how to live.


As for my $77.93...well, what's left of it remains in my wallet. Perhaps I'll run into somebody today who needs it more than me...