Burger King is on the very short list of restaurants that I all but refuse to eat in. You may be the world’s biggest fan of those char-grilled burgers, and I wholehearted respect your misguided opinion, but by all means count me out! I can name off horrible Burger King dining experiences one rapidly firing after the next. On one tragic occasion, they even managed to mess up my Cinni-minis. Really now? Call me dramatic (my mother and father often do) but I whine, kick, scream, threaten, bribe and use any other means of coercion possible to avoid eating there. That said, had I ever truly known real hunger, I imagine my extremely disdainful opinion would be far, far different.
At least, that’s what I thought today, when my mom and I visited a Burger King drive-thru to purchase a couple of Whopper meals.
Only a few moments before, we had been on our way home following an afternoon movie when Mom noticed a woman standing beside the road holding a sign that read, “Homeless. Need help.” Barely 50 yards away stood a man holding a similar sign. A few days ago, one of our friends had been telling us about the unbelievable reported numbers of homeless people in a city near our hometown. Recounting images from the stories she told of children with clothes far too big and people leaving a food-bank with only what they could carry in their arms, Mom’s compassionate heart kicked into high gear. “We have to help them,” she told me. “Turn around.”
Neither of us had a single bill of cash on our person, and we quickly tried to locate an ATM, but even as we were unsuccessful, I sensed that money wasn’t the need this time. We decided to offer them a meal, and something hot to drink considering the frigid temperatures they’d been standing in. In the interest of full vulnerability and truth, Burger King was the first place I saw and we knew time was short. Whoppers, fries and Hot Chocolates in hand, we returned to the main road and devised a plan to hand them the food as we passed by.
To our dismay, they both had vanished.
Literally. In less than ten minutes, they’d managed to leave no trace of themselves and left Mom and I with hearts heavy for their empty stomachs. Discouraged, Mom asked, “Well, what do we do with this food now?”
Those who know me best can attest that over the past few months since being home from The World Race, I’ve generally appeared a little lost. Maybe even a little melancholy. I’ve been wandering around, living my comfortable life and enjoying the blessings of being back at home, but I’ve felt a strong disconnect from the “God-is-in-everything” mentality that I embodied while traversing the globe. I complain of boredom and loneliness, missing the adventure that is in sharing Christ’s love and longing for someone to share that desire with me the way my team and Squad-mates did. Feelings like these have made this Christmas season interesting, to say the least. One thing is certain; the World Race did a phenomenal job of preparing me for a moment such as this one.
“Okay, God,” I began to pray. “We just ask that you would provide another opportunity to love someone tonight. Somewhere there is someone who could benefit from this food and who is in need of some hot chocolate, so point the way.”
Don’t get me wrong. I’m no super-saint. Just because I have seen God work millions of times before doesn’t mean that I don’t still try to run the show and plan things on my own. Tonight was no exception. Along the drive home, I brainstormed with Mom about five or six different people that we knew of who we could bless with Burger King for supper. We even called most of them. And every single one DID NOT answer. Talk about frustrating. Both of us marveled at how we were only trying to do a good deed and we couldn’t seem to manage it. I knew Mom had had enough when I heard her warning tone, “Alright, Devil…”
We were within five miles of our house, and had resigned to run the food to some nearby neighbors with kids, when I saw something odd on the side of the road. Bear in mind, at this point it was pitch dark, and in my car’s headlights appeared a man walking alongside our town’s main highway.
I have NEVER picked up a hitchhiker in my life – I’m generally good about heading warnings not to do so as a young, single girl. But without a doubt, I knew this time was an exception, and as soon as I’d passed him, I darted our car into the nearest drive, stepped out (despite an admitted protest from Mom that this could be dangerous!) and asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he panted. “My car broke down, and I can get it towed tomorrow, but I can’t get a ride home.” It turned out that he lived approximately 12 more miles from where we stood, and he’d already walked two in the steadily dropping night temperatures. I smiled, shook his hand and offered to give him a lift. As if the look of relief on his face in that moment wasn’t enough, you should have seen him smile when he crawled into the backseat and Mom handed him a warm cup of hot chocolate and bag full of Burger King!
It can be pretty easy to assume that incredible moments when God shows up don’t happen in our comfortable, state-side lives. But the reality is that He is showing up and showing off constantly, here, there and everywhere; we, and specifically I, simply tend to overlook the opportunities to take part. This Christmas season, and everyday that follows, I challenge you to ask Him for an adventure!
Be Blessed,
Ashlee
