by Nancy Moser
“What you call ‘mystic voodoo stuff’ is standard operating procedure for God.”
Claire couldn’t believe this woman. “So you do this all the time?”
“Not this specifically. But other things.”
“Like what?”
Michelle stopped at an intersection. She looked at Claire. “God is at work everywhere. He can implement and initiate anything He wants. Most people are too close-minded to be aware of His promptings. So when He can’t use one person, He uses someone else. His purposes will be accomplished, one way or the other.”
“So you’re one of the open-minded ones?”
“I am now.”
Claire raised an eyebrow, hoping Michelle saw her skepticism. “Since your vision? That was a new addition to the bum-on-the-tracks story you failed to mention before.”
Michelle shrugged. “It happened afterward and was definitely a turning point. I’d felt God’s nudgings before, but I usually turned them off.”
“Turned them off. You make them sound like a light bulb.”
“Perhaps shut them out is a better way to say it. Closed the door. I’d feel spurred to do a certain thing, feel deep in my gut that it was the right thing to do, but then I’d start rationalizing it, letting the world’s outlook intrude. Often I’d mentally shut the door in order to get it out of my sight.” She sighed deeply and pulled into the intersection. “I was pretty stubborn. The railroad incident and the vision were God’s way of getting my attention.”
“I didn’t have a vision.”
“Maybe you didn’t need one. God operates on a case-by-case basis. What works for one person doesn’t always work for someone else. Our God is very good at dealing with people one-on-one.”
“You make Him sound like an omnipotent caseworker.”
“In a way He is. Caseworker, Father, Savior, Protector, Friend, Lord… He goes by many names. He fills many roles. Every role. You know this, Claire. I know you do. He wouldn’t be offering you this opportunity if you weren’t a woman of deep faith.”
Claire shook her head. “Though my faith has gotten stronger in the past year, it’s far from deep.”
“Faith is a progressive thing, Claire. One act of faith leads to the next—as we can handle it.”
“But what He’s asking me to do…”
“It’s not for everyone.”
“No kidding. You said I’m supposed to feel honored about this?”
“He doesn’t give us any task we can’t do—with His help.”
“Oh, I’m sure I can do it. It’s more a question of do I want to do it.”
“Do you?”
“Not really.”
Michelle laughed. “An honest woman.”
“Did you want to do it?”
Michelle hesitated. “Not at all. I’d grown up with money. I liked having money. Whatever I wanted, I could have. It wasn’t easy giving that up.”
“But you did it.”
“It was the best thing I ever did.”
Claire didn’t want to believe her. “What did it get you?”
“Freedom.”
“Huh?”
Michelle laughed. “Your eloquence is overwhelming.”
“Then explain.”
“The freedom to let God provide. The world tells us to excel, to get, to have…” Michelle paused a moment. She flicked her thumbnail against her teeth. “Let me ask you a few questions. How many cars do you have?”
“I have two and my ex has two.”
“How many can you drive at once?”
Claire saw where this was going. She didn’t like it.
Michelle didn’t wait for an answer. “How many televisions do you have? Telephones? Empty bedrooms? Pairs of shoes?”
“So we’re all supposed to live in a one-room house with one television, one phone, wearing our one pair of shoes.”
“The point is, how many of these things do we need?”
“I’ll say one, but—”
“So you need a television and a telephone?”
“I don’t need much of anything. Give me a floor to sleep on, some bread and water, and I’ll survive. But that’s not living.”
“So possessions make a life?”
Claire sighed. “Of course not. You’re twisting things. We can’t take it with us, but while we’re here, it’s sure nice to have. Possessions merely make a life better.”
“So you’re a better person for owning many things?”
“They make life better, not me better.”
“What makes you better?”
Claire looked out the car window, trying to think of the right answer. “Being a good person makes me better. Doing good things for others.” She thought of something Michelle was probably waiting to hear. “Believing in God makes me a better person.”
Michelle raised a finger. “So are you a better person because you believe in God, or do you believe in God because you are a better person?
“Which came first, the chicken or the egg?”
“Something like that.”
“You’re scrambling my brain, Michelle.”
“I’m trying to simplify things.”
“Then try harder.”
Michelle stopped at a traffic light and tapped her thumbs against the steering wheel. She was silent until the light changed, her words seeming to find movement with the movement of the car. “Having money frees us to help others. When we’re just starting out, we don’t have a lot of extra to give. We’re in the prison called survival. But once we get past supplying the basics for ourselves and our families, money frees us to look beyond food and shelter. We can use it on bigger and better toys, or it can give us the opportunity to invest in God’s purposes instead of our own. ‘Every good and perfect gift is from above…”
“I know that. I know God’s given me what I have. And I think I’m pretty generous with the giving back.”
“Ah…the how-much-is-enough dilemma.”
Claire shook her head. “You’re putting me in a no-win situation. If I set a limit on what I feel I owe God, then I’m an ungrateful fool. But if I say He can have it all, then maybe I’m a reckless one.”
“A fool for Christ.”
“Ha, ha.”
“I can’t make your decision for you, Claire. All I know is that I was led to share the opportunity with you. I’ve never regretted my decision. Whatever I’ve given away has come back to me tenfold in peace, satisfaction, and a deeper knowledge of Him.” She shrugged. “Those elements are priceless.”
“But intangible.”
Michelle considered this a moment. “Not really. Though they affect the heart and soul more than the physical body, they are very real. The body dies. The soul lives forever. Isn’t that worth the investment?”
“But everything. Sell everything?”
Michelle sighed. “I was hesitant to tell you any of this, because I believe the command to sell everything is referring to more than possessions. To some people possessions aren’t the issue. They might be challenged to sell their pride, or their busyness, or their need for attention. Whatever keeps us from full surrender to God needs to be sold, done away with.”
“But you think with me, possessions and fame are the issue.”
She shrugged. “Aren’t they?”
Claire didn’t answer.
“I’m not suggesting it will be easy. Money and status represent your accomplishment. Your hard work. The world judges people based on what they have and what title they hold. But God doesn’t. Sometimes achievement and money keep us from putting Him first. You can give God a dollar and He appreciates it, but if it doesn’t hurt a little—if it doesn’t cost you anything—what kind of offering is that?”
“Give till it hurts.”
“Remember the story of the widow’s mite, Claire?”
“Kind of.” Not really.
“The bigwig Pharisees with their fancy clothes and high-and-mighty attitudes made a big production about giving their offerings at the templ
e. Look at me. I’m so good. But then a poor widow slipped in and gave one penny—all she had. Jesus said she was better than the rich men because she gave everything, quietly, unobtrusively. The Pharisees merely gave a small portion of their wealth and did it for all to see.”
“So it’s all or nothing? That doesn’t sound right.”
“Giving something is better than nothing, but giving it all is a privilege. It’s total surrender.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Oh, right. I forgot. It’s an honor.”
“That’s up to you. You can look at it as an honor or a burden. God is not going to force you into it.”
“He’s not going to take everything away if I say no?” Claire felt ridiculous for saying it out loud, but it had crossed her mind, and she’d already lost so much. No children. No marriage.
“He could, but He probably won’t. God’s big on free will. And He doesn’t want you to obey Him grudgingly. ‘Each man should give what he has decided in his heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.’”
Claire laughed. “What did you do? Store up these verses just for me?”
Michelle’s voice was serious. “Just for me. I need reminding. Too often.”
“So you still struggle?”
“Of course. Easy, it’s not. And there are days when I’d like to call my seventy-year-old parents and have them send me a one-way ticket home. I’d dive into the cushy bed in their guest room, have the maid make me a steak, a baked potato slathered with a pint of sour cream, and strawberry cheesecake.”
“I make a great cheesecake.”
Michelle smiled. “And I thought all you made was pizza.”
Claire noticed they’d entered a questionable part of town. “Where are you going?”
“Don’t ask me. I’m just driving. I don’t live here, you know. Direct me.”
Claire saw a McDonald’s up ahead. Within a second she realized it was her McDonald’s. “Pull in there! That’s where this all started.” Claire told Michelle about the old man and giving up a week’s salary. Michelle pulled into the parking lot, and Claire was out the door before she’d shut off the engine. “I have to see it again. I have to.”
Michelle scrambled after her.
With one foot inside the restaurant she stopped and sucked in a breath. She raised a finger. She pointed at an old man—the old man—seated by the window. Her voice was a whisper. “That’s him!”
Michelle put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, oh no…”
“What?”
“That’s my man too. The man I pulled off the railroad tracks.”
Claire and Michelle moved to his table. He wasn’t dressed as shabbily as he’d been the day before, but wore a nice pair of khakis and a plaid, long-sleeved shirt.
“Sir?” Claire said.
The man looked up, then smiled as if it were the most natural thing in the world to have two crazed-looking women standing before him. “Well, I’ll be. It’s you. Nice to see you.” He looked to Michelle and his face changed from unconcerned interest, to curiosity, to recognition. “Oh, my. Denver, right?”
Michelle fell into one chair with Claire falling into the one beside her.
The man took a bite of his Big Mac. “My, my. The Lord continues to amaze.”
Claire ignored him a moment and turned to Michelle, who was staring at him, shaking her head. “Are you sure this is the man you saved from the train?”
Michelle nodded.
“Oh, yes, indeedy,” the man said. “That was quite a thing you did. I’m mighty glad you heard His call and followed it. That was one time where I was a bit wary of His instructions.”
His…? Claire wasn’t sure she heard right. “What are you talking about?”
He dabbed his chin with a napkin. “The Lord instructs and I follow. Most of the time, anyway. But going down to the tracks and lying against the edge like that…” He shook his head and nodded toward Michelle. “That was a risky one. I prayed a lot, lying there, waiting for you to come.” He shrugged. “But hey, John 10:3, I always say.”
“I don’t know that one.”
Claire glanced at Michelle. A verse she actually didn’t know?
He cleared his throat. “‘He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.’ He called. I answered. You answered.”
This was ridiculous. Claire leaned on the table. “You answered…by lying on a railroad track?”
“That, and coming to this place for you.”
Claire’s heart threatened to beat through her chest. “God told you to come to this McDonald’s so I could give you all my money?”
The man shook his head and put his sandwich down. “Let me explain. Twelve years ago I was at a crisis point in my life.” He pulled the cuffs of his shirt down, the action drawing Claire’s eyes. There was a smattering of scars on his inner wrists.
He noticed her notice, pulled up his sleeves, and displayed them for both to see. “You’ve seen my stripes. Yet my wounds are nothing compared to His. ‘By his wounds we are healed.’” He took a deep breath and put his hands in his lap. “The details of my crisis are inconsequential. What’s important is that God drew me close and got me through it. I was so thankful that I dedicated the rest of my life to Him. And lo and behold, He took me up on it. Soon after, I found Him spurring me to go places at certain times. At first I resisted, thinking there was no way God could or would be telling me to go shoot hoops at a certain park, or dress in a suit and eat lunch at some corporate cafeteria. And yet, when I followed—when I continue to follow those nudges—things happen.”
“Like what?”
“When I open my eyes and heart to the moment, I usually cross paths with a soul in need of His assistance, in need of getting in touch with a part of His plan.”
“I’ll repeat my previous question,” Claire said. “God told you to come to McDonald’s so I’d give you all my money?”
“Nah. I go where He sends me, when He sends me. I don’t know the what and certainly am not privy to the why. In fact, I’ve come to see that it’s important not to interfere and make things happen.” He shook his head. “I gotta admit, that took some practice. A body starts seeing what could happen and wants to push things. It’s hard to hang back and let Him have His way.” He smoothed the edge of the Big Mac wrapper on the table. “Answer this: Did I do anything to get you to give me your money?”
She thought back to the sight of him scrounging in the garbage. He hadn’t been begging, nor had he even asked if she could spare a dollar. Until she’d offered her lunch, they had not made eye contact. Nope. The idea had come from her. From God. She shook her head.
He smiled. “That’s what makes it so exciting, what makes me keep on keeping on: the element of free will that has the opportunity to play itself out. Or not.”
“So this is what you do? Travel around following God’s nudges?”
He grinned over his burger. “As I recall, it can pay quite well.”
“I’m not sure I like providing someone with a windfall,” Claire said.
“Sure you do.” He winked. “It made you feel great, didn’t it?”
He had her there. “Does something like this happen every time you feel called to go somewhere?”
“Nope. Sometimes I go to a place and hang around for hours and nothing comes down. At least nothing I know of.”
Michelle leaned on the table. “That means your nudge was false.”
He shook his head. “Though there’s no perfection in what I do, I don’t think that’s the case. I’m supposed to be there, but the applicant doesn’t show.”
“Applicant?”
“That’s what I call ’em. They’re given the opportunity to apply their faith and say yes to God, but for some reason they say no, and miss the blessings that could have been theirs.”
Suddenly Claire’s lungs felt as if they were being squeezed. “I wonder how many times I’ve missed the blessings. I’m pretty stubborn.”
He moved to to
uch her hand but stopped short. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. We all miss out. Just take heart in knowing this time you said yes.”
“Where’s your next trip?”
He ate a fry. “Don’t know yet.”
Claire rubbed her face, trying to press some logic into her pores. “I can’t believe this is what you do for a living.”
“It’s what I do to truly live. And He provides the living. Between God-gigs, I find a job and settle in for a spell. But I don’t settle too deep. Got to be ready to go when He calls.”
“And how exactly does He call you?” Claire asked.
“Same way He calls any of us. A feeling, a nudge, a stirred-up need to move forward. The more a person listens and follows through, the more He calls. The trick is to prove yourself dependable.”
“Obedient,” Michelle said.
The man nodded. “The wonder of the O-word.” He held the box of fries toward each of them. They declined his offer. “I must say, meeting you two a second time, that’s special. He doesn’t often let me witness the aftermath of my gigs, so I’m thankful He brought you here today. It’s nice having a chance to talk shop with two of the applicants.”
“Applicants for what, is the big question,” Claire said.
He shrugged. “What’s He asked you to do?” His question was simply stated, as though there was nothing more natural. “He has asked you to do something, hasn’t He?”
Claire nodded. “I’m supposed to give up everything and follow Him.”
He chuckled over his burger. “Giving me twenty-five hundred dollars was a good start.”
“Oh, she’s got lots more than that.”
Claire flashed Michelle a look.
The man didn’t seem the least bit impressed. “Are you going to do it?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s understandable. Maybe the broader question is are you ready to go where He’s leading?”
Again, his question was the essence of simplicity—and understatement. It was like a doctor asking a patient in the midst of a heart attack, “You feeling a bit under the weather?”
He was waiting for an answer. Claire sighed. “The trouble is, I’m not sure where He’s leading or what comes after.”