The
woman and her daughter followed us out of the bathroom and down
the long corridor to a snack shop around the corner.
"I'd
like a large, Cherry ICEEŽ," I told the cashier.
Sensing that the little girl was also thirsty, I bent down to
her level and asked, "Do you want a slushy?"
The
child nodded and I stood up to add another drink to our
order. When the cashier handed them to me, I gave one to
Hollie and the other to the little girl before turning to
face her mother.
"Here," I said as I handed her $15. "Now get home, and
stay there."
Where did that come from? I
asked, more surprised by my words
than she was. What happened to 'God bless you' or 'I'll
pray for you'?
I was
still reprimanding myself when we boarded our train,
irritated that I had blown the
execution phase of what could have been a life-changing
evangelistic moment.
Or had
I?
I
reasoned, recalling how Jesus told the adulterer to leave her life of sin
in John 8:11. What if my words,
like his, were exactly what the woman needed to
hear? Even better, what if they weren't my words at all, but
Christ's flowing through me to her?
All of
us, at some point in our lives, need to be told to get home
and stay there. To quit shopping in stores when there's work to be
done at the house. To not hang out with co-workers when
our family is missing us at home. And
to stop looking elsewhere for purpose and direction when the
Spirit is
a whisper away.
As
much as I wanted to believe that Jesus was speaking to the
woman through me, I knew there was probably another, less noble
explanation for my statement. One Bill Hybels touched on in
his book,
Just Walk Across the Room, when, on page 203, he wrote:
"Most times, a person's last words express the deepest convictions of the
heart."
What was in my heart when I was listening to the woman's
story?
I wondered.
Did I think the woman behaved irresponsibly? I did.
Had
the thought crossed my mind that she should not be raising five children? It had.
And
were my words filled with judgment, more than God's
redeeming grace? Begrudgingly, I admitted, They were.
As
much as I hated what I said to the woman, I knew God could work with
and through it to achieve
powerful results—like
helping a lost soul to find her way home.
Curious about the woman's story, I visited Greyhound's website
a few hours later. To my surprise and relief, there
was
a bus leaving for Gary, Indiana that evening; and the cost
to ride it ... was eight dollars.
The
woman got her ticket in spite of my tarnished efforts and I got this message
because of them:
When intentions are good and my heart's in the right place,
don't worry about the outcome, it's
covered by grace.
A Quote
to Grow On
"the
moment you feel as though your evangelistic effectiveness
has bottomed out is the exact moment when God intervenes
with graciousness."
Bill
Hybels, Just Walk Across The Room, p.
54
