a surrender - 24

(Continuing "a surrender," chapter four, "the anawim")

The next few weeks were pretty interesting. Nice views as I was coming through the mountains. Many acts of kindness from strangers, and some good conversations. I was stopped several times by the police, who were suspicious, but they accepted my story and sent me on my way. I found some new places to sleep, like a baseball dugout. And I found I could usually check e-mail in libraries, and sometimes buy used books there, so I could have something good to read during my quiet hours alone. I called home often, telling my parents the stories about how my needs were provided for, day by day. And they told the stories to my younger brother, who lived in another state. My brother had been supportive, but he was surprised that I wasn’t even asking people for help. “He just prayed?” he asked my mother. “And he got it?” Then he said perhaps the most touching words a brother could hear: “I love God for taking care of Paul.”

As Sunday approached again, I tried to get cleaned up for church. I was able to wash clothes at a laundromat, and wash my hair in the bathroom sink there. But when I asked a young woman at a gas station if there was a church down the road, she said there wasn’t. Before stopping for the night, though, I noticed a tower with a bell set back from the road. 

It was a little, fairly new-looking Evangelical church. I had made a habit of visiting whatever church I happened to come to, so I met churchgoers of many different varieties. Sometimes they had very different ways of worshiping and talking about God and faith. But I was pretty comfortable with all the variations. At this church the people were very friendly, and I had a number of conversations before and after the service. There happened to be a potluck supper afterwards as well, so there were more good conversations. And I was glad for the meal. I had only three dollars with me.

At the beginning of the supper, the pastor had asked me to stand up and say a little about my walk. I was surprised and didn’t give a very good explanation, I thought. But as we finished eating, the pastor got up and announced that they had quietly taken up a collection for me. He presented me with $75. I was so surprised that I blushed in front of everyone and didn’t know what to say. Afterwards I went to thank the pastor. And also to give some of the money back. I wasn’t used to having so much money with me, and I actually felt it was better for me to have less. The pastor wouldn’t take it, though. “God gave you that much,” he told me, with a laugh. “You’re probably going to need it.”

So I thought maybe I could give some of it away, maybe in the bigger city I was headed for. I had a friend there who I was planning to visit. Then, later that day, a semi truck pulled over ahead of me, and the driver got out. He asked me if I needed a ride. This was very unusual. Commercial truck drivers never stopped to pick people up; I assumed it was against their company policies. But this guy seemed friendly, and I usually accepted invitations as an opportunity to talk to people. So I got to ride in a big truck and see a little of what that life is like. After talking with the man for a while, it seemed that he was pretty lonely. He had lost his wife and child in a car accident, not so long ago. Traveling around and working long hours helped keep his mind off it. But our conversation didn’t go like it had with the other very lonely man I had met. After a while it became pretty clear that this man was hoping for a kind of companionship that I wasn’t willing to offer. When I turned him down, he just seemed even more lonely. Random voices crackled on the CB radio. Then he asked where I wanted to be dropped off. We were already coming into the big city I was headed for, but we were on a major highway now, where walking was not allowed. And it was already dark. I just said he could pull over near the next exit. As I climbed down from the cab, I thanked him for helping me, and said I was sorry about his wife and child, and promised to pray for him. Then the truck rolled away into the night. 

I didn’t know where I was, exactly. I just walked down the exit ramp, hoping I could find a place to sleep. But this was a much more urban area than the places I had walked through so far. Tomorrow I could get my bearings. But where would I go tonight? I looked around at all the bright lights and signs in the darkness, and then I saw it. A motel right there. It looked nice, though, and right by the highway. It must be expensive. I went in and nervously asked how much a room cost.

It was $69. The pastor was right.

Continued...

a surrender - 23

(Continuing "a surrender," chapter four, "the anawim")

Three days later I bought breakfast with the last of the money the pastor had given me. And while I walked through the foothills that day, I waited, and hoped. But I didn’t meet anyone. Lunchtime passed, then two o’clock, three, five, no one. I didn’t feel overly hungry as suppertime approached, then that passed too. Six o’clock, seven-thirty. By that time I was starting to feel a little weak, and by eight the sun was setting and I began to wonder if I could even find a place to sleep that night. I stopped at a gas station to fill my canteen with water. And gazed at the imposing mountains around me in the fading light. 

That’s when a man walked up with his dog. He had been walking his dog as he always did, he said, when he noticed me. He wondered what I was doing, where I was headed. I answered his questions, but restrained myself from mentioning my needs. Then he said, offhandedly, “I live right over there. It’s a big house. There’s plenty of room, if you need a place to stay tonight.”

I think I surprised him a little when I accepted his invitation. He showed me around his two-story house. Then he asked if I had eaten. “No,” I said, as casually as I could. The next thing I knew, he was bringing out beef stew, chicken, a huge salad, macaroni and cheese, and then he went out and came back with ice cream that he had just bought for me. We talked until midnight. And I was able to take a shower and drop into a soft bed, feeling very full and very grateful. In the middle of the night I heard rain beating heavily on the roof. I smiled and rolled over and went back to sleep. 

The next morning I was up early, thinking about our conversation the night before. The man seemed to be very lonely. He was clearly thrilled to have company. I went downstairs but he wasn’t up yet, so I wandered into the kitchen to see if I could make us some breakfast. The kitchen was a mess. There were dirty dishes everywhere, and they seemed to have been there for days. So I started washing them. That’s when I noticed that his spice rack didn’t have any spices in it. Instead, it was filled with bottles of prescription medication. I began to wonder if that kitchen was an outward sign of what was going on inside my new friend.

When the dishes were done, I found some eggs for breakfast, and the man came down. While I was cooking we started talking again and our conversation continued all morning. He had experienced great losses in his life. His two daughters had died as babies, from SIDS. Then his wife had died after a long battle with cancer. And he had come back to this house to care for his parents, when they had gotten cancer. Now they were gone too and he was alone. He felt abandoned. Not only by all the people he had loved, but also by God. I tried to assure him that God had not abandoned him, that God was with him in his pain and loneliness. I thanked him for his kindness and explained how he had rescued me. And I said I thought maybe God brought us together, as a sign to each of us, to show that God hadn’t forgotten us. He seemed to agree with that. He said he felt our talk was a message from God, a message of hope. After lunch, when he said goodbye, sending me off with a sandwich and fifteen dollars, he seemed rejuvenated. I felt rejuvenated too. For the rest of the day, it felt like I was walking two inches above the road.

Continued...

a surrender - 22

(Continuing "a surrender," chapter four, "the anawim")

When I left the monastery, I gave the monks the last of my money. I took just two peanut butter sandwiches and three apples. That lasted until the next day, which was a Sunday. I came to a church early, before it opened, so I thought I’d wait and go to the service. Since I had no food left, I wondered if I should ask for help there, then decided it would be better to just go to the service and not ask for anything. Afterwards, though, the pastor started asking me questions. And at one point he wondered, “So how are you financing this thing?” When he found out I had nothing, he took me to a nearby store and bought me a sandwich. Then he told me to keep the change (from a twenty dollar bill). “You be careful out there,” he said.

That surprising experience got me thinking. My needs had been met without me asking. I hadn’t even mentioned any need, just answered the pastor’s questions. Would it be better if I didn’t ask people for anything along the way? Jesus had taught his followers, “Do not worry about your life, what you will eat… Look at the ravens: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet God feeds them… Do not seek what you are to eat and what you are to drink, nor be worried, for everyone seeks after these things, and your Father knows that you need them. Instead, seek his kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well.” Maybe I didn’t have to ask because God knows what I need. If my needs were met without me asking for anything, it would feel more like everything I was given was a gift from God, like God had prompted people to help rather than me prompting them. And it would require faith from me. A surrender. Waiting for God to prompt someone, waiting for God to decide if I would eat, waiting for God to enable me to continue. And as I thought about this more, I realized it would also offer more freedom to the people I met. I wouldn’t pressure them to do anything, I wouldn’t even ask for anything that would cost them anything or cause them to take any risks. I would just gratefully accept anything they freely chose to give. Yes, that seemed right. 

But it also seemed unlikely to work.

Continued...