"...And I Will Manifest Myself..."

Around nine winters have come and gone since this story occurred. I don't remember every detail and have taken a few creative liberties here, but the essence of the story is true. I spoke of it to almost no one for years, but it feels like the time has come to share. May God receive any honor from the telling.

The days had become shorter. The air was crisp enough to wear a jacket. The evening shadows had begun to lengthen, but I needed inspiration for an art project. I had some vague ideas for how I wanted the project to come together, but when I perused the school supply room, I didn’t find what I needed. I would need to run into town.

For some reason, I chose the Family Dollar. Maybe because it was closer to my home by two minutes. Maybe because the cluttered shelves seemed a better place to look for that elusive spark of creativity than the more organized shelves of Dollar General or Walmart. Maybe because God led me there that day.

I wandered around the boxes in the aisles, past the pet food, through the cooking section, up and down the toy aisle, and lingered by the craft items. Finally, I found an item or two that seemed relevant to the half-formed idea in my head. I continued to peruse the store a little longer. As I moved about, a thought started coming to my mind. “You should pay for the next person’s things when you go to check out.” I glanced at the register, just to confirm that this was a silly thought. Sure enough, no one was in line. In fact, the entire store seemed mostly empty.

I tried to shove the thought out of my mind, but my heart began to beat a little faster, always a good indication that I need to pay attention. “You could just leave money with the cashier,” whispered a little voice in my head. That was ridiculous, I argued. She could just keep the money for herself. It would probably never get to the next customer at all. Maybe it was just my own thinking. But the thought wouldn’t go away.

Gradually, I resigned myself to the idea. Sure, OK, I would leave some money with the cashier. If she chose to keep it for herself, that was God’s business, not mine, since this whole thing was His idea anyhow. How much money, though? It seemed $20 would be enough. For sure since I had no idea what was going to happen to it. Did I need to ask God about that, too, since He seemed so concerned about the rest of this situation?

But even as I had the thought a different number kept coming to my mind. $50. That seemed exorbitant. We were nearing Christmas, and I knew from past experience my teacher wages struggled to supply all the expenses that popped up around that time of year. But here I was, already committed to this random act of kindness. What would be the point if I stopped short of following through in faith the rest of the way?

I loitered in the aisles a little longer, trying to work up courage to approach the register. I felt incredibly awkward. I checked my wallet, hoping to find an excuse to bail out of this crazy scheme. Did I even have that much cash? I did. At last I could procrastinate no longer. I hesitantly stepped up to the counter.

The woman behind the register was upper middle age. Her manner was very businesslike and brusque. I completed my purchase, then hesitated awkwardly for a moment. At last I dove right in. “Um… I was wondering, could I leave some cash here to go toward the next customer’s purchase?”

The effect was instantaneous. Her eyes grew big and shot up to mine. “Yes, sure, that’d be fine,” she said.

I fumbled in my wallet and extracted the precious $50. “Here,” I said. “I guess you can just tell them Merry Christmas or something.” I was ready to leave. The ordeal was every bit as cringe-inducing as I had expected.

But then the woman behind the counter spoke. Her words came out in a rush. “Can I sort of choose who it goes to?”

“Oh, sure, that would be fine,” I said. The cashiers in these small-town dollar stores knew their customers. They had a good idea about the regulars, who was deserving, who could use a lift. Maybe my money wouldn’t be completely wasted.

She wasn’t finished. “Because my brother is fixing to come up here. He just called a little bit ago to see if we had heaters. His house doesn’t have any heat at all, and it’s starting to get cold. So I was thinking maybe it could go to him?” There was a question in her voice.

And suddenly I knew. I knew why God had asked me to give this gift. I knew why $20 wasn’t enough. And I knew that this meeting at the Family Dollar register had been planned by Someone other than myself.

“Yes,” I said. “I would be so glad if he could use it.”

“Thank-you,” she said. “They’ve just been so cold over there.” There were tears in her eyes.

Tears were in my own. “Can I give you a hug?” I asked. She nodded. We embraced right there, leaning across the counter, amongst the disorganized chaos of a southern dollar store.

I left the store that day with a great wonder in my heart at God’s leading and direction. How He could take my tiny grudging obedience and turn it into a blessing. How He had taken away my doubts so completely that this had been my own idea, my own folly. 

What He tells me to do doesn’t always make sense in my human mind, but His ways of working are far beyond my own. And every gift He asks me to give is repaid a hundred-fold in ways I never expect. 

He that hath my commandments, and keepeth them, he it is that loveth me: and he that loveth me shall be loved of my Father, and I will love him, and will manifest myself to him. (John 14:21)