Called Through Change & Tears

This story contains a reflection on call as a part of a homework assignment to describe my call to ministry.

I experienced a call to ministry today. It happened today, September 9, 2010, between noon and 12:30 when I made a 54-year old man cry.

It happened before then, actually, when this same man waved at me as I was leaving the food ministry at Shelby Presbyterian Church. He waved and I stopped to ask if he wanted a ride somewhere. He got in the car and told me he wanted to go to "some store."

We joked a little bit about how I called him the wrong name when I saw him that morning. It was the first time I had seen him since summer break. I called him Robbie and he didn't correct me. As he was finishing his lunch, I went over to him and apologized for calling him Robbie as I had randomly realized his name isn't Robbie.

He gave me directions to a certain store and he reminisced about the textile industry that once made Shelby an industrial city. He told me he loved working in the mill and wishes he could work again, maybe washing dishes. He said even those jobs are hard to find when you're in your 50s. He didn't say so, but I imagine it is even harder when you're 50 and homeless.

He asked me for some change at some point during this trip. I handed him my cup-holder ashtray and told him he could take whatever he wanted. Over the sounds of the shifting change and my car engine, he told me not to give him that option.

The conversation quickly changed and I thought about another man who asked me for change earlier that day. I had just pumped 12.52 gallons of fuel into my car. At $2.559 per gallon, my tank of gas cost me $32.04. When I got back in my car, it wouldn't start. My car has a security system on the fritz. As a result, sometimes my car thinks I'm stealing it and shuts off the gas flow to the engine for about ten minutes. During this ten minutes, a man walked by and caught my eye. He was going to see his grandfather, an amputee I had been watching who was sitting by a trash can in front of the store. The man who walked by asked me for change and I planned to give him all the change in my cup-holder ashtray. However, the container was full and I thought it would be burdensome to give the change to this man, not to mention the man's trouble in carrying it. I took about half of it and dumped it into his cupped hands.

While thinking about this man from earlier, I continued conversing with my friend. We neared the gas station and as the car slowed to a stop, he again asked if I could give him some change. He handed me the change and I proceeded to dump it into his cupped hands.

He began to cry as the coins began to fall out of his hands, onto his lap, and then onto the passenger seat. Twenty cents, to be exact. He told me he only wanted enough for a beer. Through his tears he then said, "You know I'm going to buy a beer with this?"

"I know," I replied.

Then he repeated a phrase he had said two or three times since he first embraced me that morning: "I love you, Trevar. I mean it."

Behind my sunglasses, my eyes reached that pre-tear state where they appear glossy, but the tears never fell. I moved a switch and my left-turn signal began to flash. I pulled away from the store and drove down the street to the grocery store, spending $21.92 on low-fat, organic, and natural foods. I saved 20¢ as an Ingles Advantage Card member. I paid with my debit card and received $20 back, bringing the cash value inside my wallet to $22: two ten-spots, and two one dollar bills. I wanted the cash to buy apples from a local farm stand.

The monetary contrasts of the day stood out to me. The numbers stuck in my head. I spent over $50 on food and gas and took $20 out of my bank account to spend on more food. In between my spending, I spent time with those who didn't have enough money to buy food. I probably didn't even give him $2. Estimating on the high side, I might have given away $5 in coins. My friend left 20¢ on my seat and I "saved" 20¢ at the grocery store.

In retrospect, it is the numbers, circumstances, and God that called me to ministry today, just like other days. I was called to give myself away--to be like Christ. Today I fulfilled that calling by giving away change and a little more than change. Tomorrow I hope I give more. One day, I hope to give away everything. On that day, I might be miraculously multiplied like the body of Christ and the loaves and fishes. But even if my God chooses not to multiply what I am giving away, I will give nonetheless and find the giving worth it. It is my calling.