The Jesus in a Triple with Cheese

I have had a great deal on my mind lately. Ministry conflict, relationship challenges, people who are hurting in my family.

And I'd be really grateful to hear from the Lord a loud and clear answer on any of the above. But in all of these situations I guess He's decided they are a process, a trial, a maturing... Sigh.

In the mean time, I've been throwing out proverbial fleeces and arranging circumstances to maximize God's opportunity to show up in a way, time and place that would make perfect sense and be obvious to me. As far as I can tell He's not responding to my tactics.

On Sunday I was driving to my friend Stephanie's house to enjoy a meal (and when I say enjoy a meal, I mean one granddaddy of a honkin' feast prepared by her expert hands). It was rainy and cool and I was loving the day.

On my way, at May and I-44, I saw a homeless woman holding a sign. (I don't ever read the signs, although I should more often because a couple of months ago I saw a guy holding a sign that said, "Why lie - I need a cigarette and a beer." I thought that was the best marketing tool for spare change I had ever seen. If I hadn't been late for a meeting, I would have backed up and given him a $20.)

I like to give cheeseburgers and fries to people who stand on the corner holding a sign. It's just my thing. No deep spiritual principle...just like to do it when I am able.

So when I saw this woman draped in a long coat with the hood pulled up over her head, and a cane that she was leaning on, my heart went out to her, and I immediately knew it was cheeseburger time.

So I made my way to the Wendy's just on the other side of I-44, and as I was about to turn in, I heard as clear as day, "You should buy two meals. They never work alone."

I, of course, reasoned with that whispered thought that I was doing a mighty work in just buying one, and that two cheeseburgers was not really necessary. That's just my overly eager sense of compassion welling up, which always gets me into trouble when I take it too far.

But to make up for the fact that I wasn't buying two, I went for a 3/4 lb triple with cheese large fries and a water (I also reasoned she was dehydrated and water is better for her than DrP.)

So I pulled out, completely satisfied with myself that I was on my way to do something God would really appreciate. Then I saw her friend. He was working the south corner of May and I-44.

"You should buy two. They never work alone."

Punch to my gut.

As I pulled up to her friend, I rolled down the window at the stop light and handed the first cheeseburger to him and said, "Is that your friend on the other side?"

"Yea," he said with a big smile.

"Will you share this?"

"Yea," another smile as he accepted it and immediately gathered his things and started to cross the intersection to go have lunch with his friend.

I rolled up my window and felt awkward.

I told myself the 3/4 lb triple with cheese, large fry and large water was enough for the both of them.

I even talked to myself about the beauty of how they were going to share that cheeseburger and how I can't remember the last time I shared my cheeseburger with someone. And maybe I would even ask some of my friends in the coming week the profound question of when was the last time they had shared their cheeseburger with someone. And how we would all be humbled and meek for a time thanks to the insightful spiritual principle of simple sharing illustrated to us by these two beautiful homeless people.

But as I did my U-turn and headed back south for Steph's house, I started feeling a little desperate at my choice of one cheeseburger over two. Had I just ignored a rare moment when I actually heard something from God?

I made it all the way to Steph's house before the conviction was so strong that I had to roll down my window and shout at Steph, who was just getting out of her car home from church, "I will be back in 7 minutes! Just 7 - gotta run and do something real quick!"

Like a repentant maniac, I sped back as fast as I could shouting at every stop light and slow driver..."I am trying to to do the work of GOD! Get out of my way!"

Wataburger was on the other side of May, so I decided I would stop there for round two.

Now Wataburger is not like Wendy's.

I sat there for the longest eternity of twelve minutes waiting for their version of the 3/4 lb with cheese, and it was not very convenient.

But I then reasoned that my wait was a result of my disobedience and could be likened to those times we spend wandering in the deserts of life because we've ignored the voice of God and now we may have to suffer the consequences...

(As you can tell this whole cheeseburger debacle began to have epic lessons/principles weaved into it...)

So when I finally got the second cheeseburger I whipped over to my friend who was already back at his post after sharing the first burger, and like a gigantic dork said, "Uhm hey, since there were two of you I wanted you both to have a full burger so I went back and got a second."

To understand the awkwardness of what I felt at this moment, think of that scene where Baby tells Patrick Swazy, "...I carried the watermelon."

He just looked at me and said, "Oh, ok thanks," and smiled.

So I smiled back...said something lame like "Have a good day" and rolled up my window.

For whatever reason, rolling up my window felt like a little glass wall I had let down momentarily to conveniently bestow my grand kindness and then put back up to keep my world tidy.

So now I was late back to Steph's house where the rest of the lunch party was waiting on me to each their lunch.

So instead of a nice encounter with a random act of kindness I had a series of awkward circumstances with a rush of guilt and other emotions that overshadowed the whole exchange between me and the two homeless people.

I'm not sure what the lesson is other than listen the first time and if you think you're supposed to buy two cheeseburgers for the love of God just buy them.

And perhaps it gets easier to here Him in the more pressing situations of life when we are first obedient in the small subtle instructions.