Crazy Grace

I was driving home from work one evening, weary and mentally tired from a long day. I stopped by the grocery store and stood in the long line. I dreaded my arrival home for it only meant more work; preparation of dinner, the bearing up of screaming children, and a crabby, argumentative husband. I often feel like I’m subsisting on my last ounce of energy as I strive only to make it to the next moment. I make do with a gasp for the next breath and prayer to my God to help me. So it was that I climbed into my car with my meager assortment of groceries and sighed.

As I left the parking lot, I saw a man in a bulky jacket with a large backpack and bedroll on his back. He walked swiftly and with purpose. It struck me that he must be cold. I thought this because I had just experienced the bitter temperatures as I loaded my groceries into the car with stiff fingers. I had rushed the shopping cart to the holding bay, barely able to breath because the cold hurt my lungs. And there was this man walking out in it. I stared hard as I drove past him, awkward though he was, and continued my journey home.

A few minutes later I realized I could not get the image of him from my mind. I considered what I could do to help him, and realized my situation as a woman alone in my car and of not much monetary(or physical strength) means. I prayed that God would show me clearly if I should help him or go home. And then I stopped at the stop sign. If I turned left, I would drive straight home with a heavy burden on my heart for this stranger. If I turned right, I would drive back to the parking lot in search of the odd man and offer to pick him up.

Now you must understand that the words of common sense were screaming in my ears. You can’t pick up a stranger. You won’t have any means to protect yourself. What if he robs you? What if he steals your car? What if he does unspeakable things to you? But it occurred to me in that moment that nothing he did to me would be my fault because when we offer grace out of the kindness of our hearts, we are not responsible for the way people respond to it. Still, I knew my husband would absolutely never let me hear the end of it if he knew I picked up a strange man on the side of the road. So I planned to turn left at the stop sign. But my hands–guided by some higher power–turned right instead.

I figured I was completely crazy. Bonkers. Mad. So I prayed that I would not find the man in the parking lot if it was not God’s will for me to help him. And I breathed a deep sigh of relief when he was not there. And I started to drive home as I had before. Until I saw him there in the dark hiking on the side of the road. And so I pulled off and called to him, “Do you need a ride?” And he ran to my car and said, “Yes. Thank you.”

And my heart was beating so fast and with such complete terror that I thought I might pass out. If you think I’m being overly dramatic, I am not. I assumed that he would pull a knife from his jacket and slit my throat at any moment as I said, “I’ve never picked up a strange man before, but Jesus told me to stop for you.” As if using the name of God’s son would somehow protect me from malicious intent. And he said, “I’ll get in the back.”

“Where are you going?” I said.

“To Quick Trip.” He said. “I need to charge my phone.”

Quick Trip was only a half mile away at best. “Can I buy you dinner?” I asked.

“No thank you.” He said. Then he noticed my leather satchel in the back seat. “Is that where you keep your Bible?” He said.

“Yes.” I said. “Among other things.”(like my wallet and every single valuable thing I owned)

“My mother always wrapped her Bible in leather.” He said. “She was a missionary.”

“Really?” I said. “To what country?”

“To several different countries.” He said.

“What is your name?”

“Joshua.”

And then we drove on in silence for a few minutes.

“Are you sure I can’t buy you dinner, Joshua?” I said as we pulled into the parking lot at Quick Trip.

“No thanks, Ma’am.” He said. “But maybe you could buy me a cup of coffee?”

“Sure.” I said.

I finally got a good look at him as he climbed out of my car. He was a white man in his mid-thirties with a weathered face and a full auburn colored beard. His large green coat looked thin and raggedy, and he appeared tired. He set his backpack on the ground and began to plug in a pay-as-you-go cell phone. I proceeded to walk inside but when he did not follow me, I paused. He stood resolutely by his stuff, as if waiting for me to go inside and buy the coffee without him.

I suddenly felt compelled to forgo the coffee–realizing instead that maybe he had a greater need I was not aware of. Impulsively, I opened my wallet and pulled out a $20. I handed it to him. And even though he appeared extremely uncomfortable, I forced it into his hand anyway.

“This is not from me, but from the Lord.”

And he smiled, as if he might cry at any moment. And then I hugged him. Not a little hug, but a great big bear hug. The kind of hug that takes in a person’s whole being and says, “I accept you. You are precious and dearly loved.”

And as I got into my car I looked to make sure he had not stolen my leather satchel(he had not). And as I backed out of the parking space, I saw him standing there waving at me with this great big smile on his face. And then I drove away.

My heart was still thumping–as if I had just run half a mile–and I was shivering with fear. Because doing this thing had terrified me to the depths of my bones. What if he had thumped me over the head or worse? But in my heart I felt this peace I would not have had if I had listened to common sense and ignored him. So I prayed for Joshua. And I didn’t tell a living soul what I had done because I was afraid everyone would tell me that I was crazy.

“Let brotherly love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. Remember those who are in prison, as though in prison with them, and those who are mistreated.” – Hebrews 13:1-3.

I read that verse this morning as I sat at home suffering with my sick tummy. And I remembered Joshua. We are all fighting something. It may be a situation beyond our control–like joblessness, or an unexpected bill we cannot pay. We might have a relationship in crisis or a health issue that makes us weak. In retrospect I realized something; we are all Joshua’s. And it occurs to me today that sometimes we must step outside of ourselves and our situation to see life on this planet as it really is; utterly hopeless, intangibly futile, and in need of extreme grace. We must do this because we are in need of it ourselves. And even though we might get hurt when we offer grace to people, we should extend grace anyway, and by every means available.

Pain is the only constant in this world. Everyone experiences it. And it is the work of Jesus to relieve it.

I wrote this for Joshua. He showed me that sometimes I need to risk everything to extend grace, especially when it is most uncomfortable. Because that is what Jesus did for me.