Day 63: No cash

He wasn’t happy with me. Tolerant, but not happy. It was at the new gas station in town. Not exactly new. It has been there for years, struggling on and off with actually being open and in operation. It had opened again just over a month ago by a short guy who was standing right in front of me at his cash register, holding my credit card.

“Don’t you have any cash?” he asked, disappointed as I stood there with my M&M’s resting on the counter top. He was Middle Eastern, probably about 45 years old. He knew I didn’t have cash. I’d made a bit of a show of digging through my pockets, looking inside my very empty wallet, only to come up with nothing. I was there for one thing, of course, and it had little to do with candy. But I at least wanted to give the guy some business. It seemed the right thing to do.

I shrugged. I didn’t have cash. But in one more act of good faith, I walked out to our van and dug through the change-holder. I found a few dimes, one nickle and plenty of pennies. But it wasn’t going to add up. When I went back in, I offered to put the M&M’s back. His problem was the interchange fee that he’s charged on every transaction with a credit card. I asked if he would make any money on the deal. He said he would, just a little. He wasn’t very convincing.

But he insisted then on running my card. I took the receipt and asked  him if I could pray for him. It caught him off guard, and he clearly was confused, not quite understanding what I was asking. His English was OK, but not great. So I put my hands together and asked again. He kind of nodded that it would be OK, so I prayed immediately to Jesus that his business would be blessed.

We talked for a few more moments about how things were going. He was competing with the recently re-opened Kwik Shop down the street. Not a good situation for him. But he said this month was going better than last month. When I left, I still wondered whether I’d cost him money with my bag of candy. Next time, I promised him, I would bring cash.

Day 62: Foam dolphins

I knew she was a strong Christian. After all, she'd come to our church, where she was taking all of our old VBS decorations to use next year at her church. So she got piles of stuff -- waves and dolphins and compasses and a giant captain's wheel, all made out of foam. A big cardboard boat. Posters. Barrels made out of cardboard and duct tape. Some tube-shaped pylons, which I'm not really sure were supposed to be used for but that I thought were really cool.

We squeezed it all into her minivan. Some didn't fit. She was very thankful to have it. She explained her church doesn't have very many children in it, and they so want the children to come, and to bring their parents so that more lives can be changed for Him. And so we took that opportunity to pray for her, that her VBS next year would go smoothly and that the children would come to learn about Jesus.

After two months …

On one hand, the time seems to have flown by. On the other, every day has required effort. It hasn’t been easy. Here are a few observations I’ve made so far:

n  The nervousness doesn’t go away. It can sweep over you at times when you know you’re about to talk to someone, and you wonder how they’ll receive you. But isn’t as overwhelming as it was at first. Back then, the adrenaline was almost crippling.

n  Young guys – 25 and younger – have offered up some of the most consistent responses to my question. By and large, they’ve been dumbfounded. (See here, here and here.) They don’t quite seem to know what to do with it. And they are very uncomfortable being prayed for. I think guys of that age oftentimes don’t think much about God. They’ve got other things on their minds. But there have been some exceptions (See here.)

n  This project requires a lot of trust – trust that God is working through me. I won’t get to see the outcome of my efforts, at least not in this life. Sometimes, I get weak. I wonder what in the world I’m doing. But God has always been there to lift me back up.

n  Old Town is a very good mission field, and a very convenient one. Walmart, my mission field of last resort, also hasn’t disappointed.

n  I’ve gotten quite a bit of exercise doing this. My circuit through Old Town is about a mile long. Not bad.

Day 61: Trash cans

He was changing out plastic bags in a couple of trash cans near the entrance of Walmart. He was an employee, looking off into the distance as he did his work. He wasn’t moving quickly.

He was a young guy, about 20 years old, and tall. I walked up to him and asked him my question. “Whaaat?” he asked, a little incredulously. So I asked him again, and he pondered this for a minute. He was smiling, so maybe he thought it was a joke.

But eventually he came to the realization that I was serious. At first, he said I could. And then when I told him I would do it right then, he balked. “I’ve got a lot of work to do,” he said, gesturing to the trash cans. I shrugged, told him he could keep working and bowed my head. He did keep working, bending down at one point to pick up a lid during my prayer. There was no question he was working with more ambition than when I first saw him.

After I finished, I thanked him. He kind of smiled, definitely uncomfortable.

Day 60: A big guy

I knew he was big before I stepped around the gas pump to talk to him. And indeed he was as he leaned against his white Chevrolet pickup. He was maybe 40 years old. I had intentionally pulled into the stall next to him.

I asked if I could pray for him, and he immediately agreed. So we prayed right there on the spot, just a quick prayer asking for God's blessing. Then he thanked me. When we left the gas station, he drove south and I drove north.

Day 59: A baby

It was getting late in Old Town Square. The lights were ablaze for a Wednesday night, and I was looking for someone to talk to. For some reason, I've felt more called to talk to men as I've been following through with this project. I'm not sure why, spiritually. But on the practical side, I worry that a woman would get uncomfortable in a hurry if she was approached by a strange man on the street. Especially after dark.

But that didn't stop me today. Maybe it was because it was well lit. There was a mother holding her baby under the lights of the Square. I could see the baby gazing up into the neon glow, transfixed. The mom was trying to shush him (I think it was a him).

I asked if I could pray for her, and she didn't hesitate saying yes. So I prayed for her and her child, that God would give the baby the rest that babies need. This one was probably 6-months old.

She thanked me and we chatted for a couple of minutes. She'd been eating at a restaurant and the little got fussy. So outside they went. Fortunately it was a beautiful night.

Day 58: Stopping

A typical early-evening phone call between Mary and me goes something like this:

“When are you coming home?” she asks, very sweetly. It’s just after 6 p.m.

“Shouldn’t be long.”

She pauses. “How long is that?”

“About 10 minutes.”

She knows what to ask. “Do you have to make a stop first?”

“Yes.”

“OK,” she concludes, “then I’ll go ahead and feed the kids. Come home as soon as you can.”

And then we hang up.

Tonight we had that conversation as I was walking through a parking garage in Old Town, just next to the Warren Theatre. I needed to make a stop and, after several blocks of walking, still hadn’t done it. But there was a woman behind me, so I stopped right then.

I asked if I could ask her a question. She stopped and pulled an earphone out of her ear, to clarify what she’d heard. She was 50-ish and short. I’d seen her a moment before, getting out of her four-door sedan. It had one of those “End This War” bumper stickers. So I figured she might be an activist.

I asked if I could pray for her, and she barely hesitated in saying yes. I told her I wanted to pray right then. “Well, it will have to be fast. I have a class to get to.” So I prayed fast. She thanked me warmly, and we shook hands. Then she headed for her class, wherever that was.

With my stop concluded, I went home.