He was sitting in the alcove between the carts and the entrance to Aldi. Of course he was. Our church, Westridge Community, is in a sermon series about loving others called "KEEP CALM and play the (loving) long game." This past week our pastors had talked a lot about how we treat unhoused people and specifically how we can love and possibly meet the needs of ones who are asking for handouts.
Phil, our youth pastor who also heads our outreach "Loaves and Fishes," detailed his journey from being a person who would purposely leave all cash at home and always avoid eye contact with someone sitting on a curb, to a person who now carries a $100 bill so he can be ready to give significant help if he meets someone and senses a need.
At my women's small group as we discussed the sermon study guide I shared my own feeble attempts over the past few years.
One time coming out of the grocery store I noticed someone sitting by the carts. As I put my groceries in the trunk, I looked for something I could share. I gave the person a couple of oranges.
The next time I noticed a man sitting there, I decided to ask him what he wanted. "Hey, I am going into Aldi," I said. "What would you like for me to pick up for you?"
He thought for a moment. "Hamburger," he said.
"Hamburger? You mean, ground beef?" I asked, dubiously.
"Yes. Ground beef," he said.
So when I breezed by the meat section, I looked for ground beef. As luck would have it, a one-pound package of 90 percent lean had a 50 percent off manager's special. I tossed it in my cart and bought it along with my other groceries.
When I turned the corner by the carts I cheerily told him, "Hey, we were in luck, ground beef was on sale!" I handed him the package. "Would you like an apple too?"
"I can't eat them," he said, displaying only a few teeth in wide stretches of gums.
Embarrassed at my stupidity, I scanned my box. "How about grapes?"
He accepted a bunch of grapes.
As he ate the unwashed grapes and I drove home, I wondered if he had any way to cook the ground beef. Did he have a camp stove? Or, more likely, I finally realized, he had really meant he wanted a hamburger. With a bun, ketchup, and pickles. McDonald's was a few yards away. With the same money I spent, I could have bought him a Big Mac.
That was about a year ago. I've noticed people sitting near Aldi's carts frequently, but with my frustration over my bungling attempts at "helping" I avoided eye contact once again.
After relaying this story to the gals at group, they encouraged me to keep trying. "You'll get better at it," my friend said.
I do want to show Jesus' love to people, so yesterday I tried again. A man was sitting by Aldi's carts. I stopped and asked him what he would like from the store.
Visibly caught off guard, he stammered to think of something. "I can't cook anything," he muttered.
And then I had a sneaking suspicion in the pit of my stomach that this was the same man for whom I'd bought the ground beef.
"How about grapes?" I suggested.
"Yes, grapes," he said.
After I bought the grapes I took them into Aldi's restroom and rinsed them in the bag (no more handing out unwashed grapes), then grabbed a cardboard tray to put them on so they wouldn't drip all over the store.
Outside, I noticed someone else had left him some tortilla wraps. That was a good idea! I handed him the cardboard tray with the grapes.
"I'm Karen," I said. "What's your name?" He told me his name, and I looked at his face as I purposed to remember it. "Nice to meet you."
This morning as I woke from sleep, the parallels to my "quiet times" with God became painfully clear.
I often I sit outside God's grocery store, waiting for a quick handout but oblivious to the abundant riches He has for me inside.
If I really knew "Gary," I would know what he liked to eat. I would know where he hangs out, and I might invite him to my house for dinner. If I really knew him--like if we were family--we could plan a menu, shop for groceries, take them home and chat as we cook together. Without a relationship, we are limited to hit-or-miss handouts of produce or tortilla wraps.
God is my Father. He knows me. He wants a relationship with me, and I am wanting that deeper relationship more and more. And in James 4:8 he promises: "Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you."
I am His daughter. I don't need to sit outside like a beggar. I can open my Bible expectantly and approach God's throne of grace with confidence to receive mercy and find grace to help me in my time of need. (Heb. 4:16).
It's all about the relationship.
