Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Scams

I'm almost 90% positive that I just gave money to someone who scammed me. It was tonight at a RaceTrac and I keep kicking myself in my head for doing so the way I did. It should have been so obvious, how he first approached me at the gas station pump, asking for $9, then seeing my yielding, then asked up for $14, the common $9.99 sales tactic marking store windows. How he started off saying that he wasn't a bum, how his tale was so conveniently placed where he must get back by midnight like a trucker-version of Cinderella and most of all, how when he rushed off, said the very line that tipped me off, "have a nice vacation," while he side-glanced at my Georgia license plate as if I was some one-time tourist who he spotted the opportunity to hook.


I wish that I told him that I wasn't a tourist. That I had read all the signs earlier without being so easily deceived and that I wasn't such a gullible target. But most of all, I wish that I had asked his name and told him mine so that he would remember that moment. That I had told him that I was on an intern salary and that I had given him an hour of my work. That what I wanted for him to have was help and not money, that even if he was lying, that I'd help him and throw in a gas station meal with it too. That I hoped he wouldn't make me lose my faith in people. 

Because I'm tired of seeing the faces of people who I have passed by, hesitated with, changed my mind with, and on my way home, regretting my own sin and pride. I'm tired of remembering the man with weathered skin as dark as night wearing an empty look, the man that the dressed up versions of Penn and I walking through Atlanta after a night at the Fox glanced at and kept walking, making the internal excuse that there was so much crowd behind us that it would be hard to stop. I'm tired of remembering the woman that refused the pads I wanted to give her, but was looking for a place to stay, making me hesitate, then drive away fearing for my security. And of course I remember the bold times when things weren't the perfect scenario, from the guy who I gave a ride to Chick-fil-A who stole the Sharpie off the car floor before getting out to the nightmare of love letters from the homeless Mr. Paul who we had lunch with in St. Louis. 


Forgive me for my pride, Lord, for neglecting to be a shelter from storms, a stronghold for the needy, and a shade from the Orlando/Houston/Atlanta heat. And I want to pray for this man that whatever this money is used for, it is used honestly as I hope, or that it is used productively and opens the chasm for you to enter his heart. I'm at peace with it, for now I cannot gain pride or shame from how God will use that money. And do not let me hesitate and evaluate what it would cost myself when someone comes with a need, as I so often do, for:



"You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if anyone would sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. And if anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to the one who begs from you, and do not refuse the one who would borrow from you." - Matthew 5:38-42
You have already given me all on the cross and you are more than enough.