I was waiting on a large order of tacos and burritos when I met her.
My church has been feeding a local junior high football team this summer, and today the menu was Taco Bell.
She was alone, and her menu was one tostada and a cup of water (a meal I learned she eats there every day).
She called me "Baby", and she reminded me of all the reasons I love living in the South.
Her eyes had searched the restaurant to find someone who might listen to her story, and I was glad I was chosen. Soon we were engaged in a deep conversation.
She told me about her battle with poor health, and a husband who had run off and left her. And as she unfolded her life-story, she began to cry. But as soon as the first tear fell, she said, "I'm not crying for the bad; I'm crying for the good, because God has been so good to me". As this precious woman continued to speak, she wiped away her tears, and kept repeating the phrase, "I'm crying for the good, because God is so good".
Every morning I make myself read stories of those who live in other parts of the world, with lives so different from my own: the children in Guatemala who search the city dump in hopes of discarded food from those who "had enough", the mother in India whose husband infected her with HIV and now suffers in the sweltering heat of a fifth floor with her three young children, knowing she will soon leave them behind in death. How do I read, listen, and process all of these stories when my life looks so completely different?
Recently I hi-lighted this sentence from Richard Stearns (World Vision) book, He Walks Among Us: "We live in a culture that preaches an appealing gospel of entitlement and personal rights, and that way of thinking can easily seep into our faith, compelling us to seek a God of blessing who answers our prayers for happiness and comfort". Those words are so powerful to me, and maybe even a little too accurate in the American evangelical culture I live in. How many times have I heard the verse in James quoted, the one that says: "Every good and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change" as one that promises a God who gives good gifts, so all we have to do is ask for them?
But here's my question: What if the good and perfect gift is wrapped in a crusted, discarded yogurt cup that only has a spoonful of warm cream remaining in it? What if the good and perfect gift is a car with no air-conditioning in the 100+ Arkansas summer heat? What if the good and perfect gift is one more day of seeing your children before death takes you away from the suffering, yet leaves you with the knowing that your children will be left behind? What if the good and perfect is walking miles to retrieve water that will only leave you with a disease that will soon take your life? Would you still take these and call them good?
Today, I can't help but cry for the bad...for all those who suffer in places I will never be able to crawl into and share in the suffering moment. But I also cry for the good, because I know that my God is good. And I know that He sees all those who suffer, and He weeps for them deeper than I ever will. And with all of this, I also know that my God gives perfect gifts, because I know my God.
I don't know how He will give them today, but I know that He will. And I pray that the one who receives the grace-gift will know that it came from the Father of lights; the One who does not change.
At least I know there's a lady sitting at Taco Bell who knows this, and she'll still be crying for the good.
