The God Box
I left the pastor’s office having just confessed my biggest weakness to him (OK, I might as well let the cat out . . . when I “lay it all down” before the Lord in prayer, I tend to “pick it all up” by the end of the day). A bit embarrassed, I walked into my office to wait for my friend, Raye, to meet with me.
“Hey, Gloria!” she said as we hugged and laughed. “I have to tell you about this homeless guy.”
“A Vietnam vet lives in the bushes near the shelter where I work. Right next to Office Max by the bus stop.”
“He lives in the bushes?” I said with a distinct suburban accent.
“Yeah. I got off the bus and he says, ‘Oh, I love your smile. You see why? I don’t have any teeth.’”
“What? Uh . . . gee.”
“‘But hold on,’ he says, ‘I have something for you even though I have no teeth.’ And then he pulls out a harmonica and starts playing a gospel song. When he was done, he says, ‘God loves you. He really does.’ I was just getting off the bus. Isn’t that something, Gloria?”
“Yes it is, Raye.”
“You know, I worry about where I live, about my children, my job. So I made a GOD BOX–being a tangible, hands-on person. Sometimes I have to write things down, pray, then fold it up and put it in the GOD BOX. Once it’s in, you can’t take it back. Means you’re not running the show. Frees you up to listen to God–otherwise, I’m wrapped around Raye.”
Before we knew it, we were at the bus stop with an empty shoebox. Apparently, once you put in “God help me to know what to do at my new job at Hope”–you can’t take it back. Frees you up.
Gloria Wiese, Minister of Discipleship with Raye Black, a new member of Hope