This morning at market, an interesting exchange took place
between a gentleman buying produce with food stamps, the lady working behind
the produce stand, my daughter and I, who were also buying produce.
The gentleman, who appeared to be Middle Eastern and who did
not speak English very well, had a list of the items that were approved for
purchase with food stamps. It seemed the only fruit available was cantaloupe,
as apparently, the food stamp approved items had to be locally grown. The man
wanted some grapes—they were right in front of him and were, indeed, beautiful.
No, he was told, you can’t buy those. As the young lady turned to get the items
he had bought, I said to him,
Would you like some of
those grapes? I’ll buy some for you.
He seemed to understand and nodded and pointed to the bags
of white grapes.
When the lady who was helping April and I returned I said,
I want to buy a bag of
those grapes for this gentleman.
No, we don’t allow
that, she said.
I was sort of stunned.
Don’t allow…but I want to buy them.
Meanwhile the gentleman collected his bags and turned and
walked away.
We don’t want our
customers to feel sympathy and buy things like that.
But I do feel
sympathy; I feel compassion for him.
She shook her head and went to get the strawberries and
blueberries I had requested. When she returned, she said,
You don’t know the
whole story.
I just wanted to buy
him some grapes.
I could see that April was visibly quite upset. We paid for
our produce and walked away. As we stepped outside I reached over and touched
April and said
Sweetie…
She immediately started crying. With tears pouring down her cheeks, on the cobbled street
outside the big market doors, my daughter wept for the sins of God’s people.
It’s hard to actually capture with words, the anguish and anger that April
expressed.
Why are people like
that? They’re so careful to wear their little skirts* and act so righteous, and
then be so mean. What does it matter what the whole story was.
We continued talking on our drive to Costco, as we walked
through the store, and as we drove home. And here’s what I believe.
I believe I am so blessed, as to be given children whose
hearts are toward the poor. I believe that both compassion and righteous anger
are gifts from God, which as they mature, will bring glory back to Him. I
believe that Christianity as we know it and see it practiced around us, has
lost its way. Had Jesus been standing beside us at that produce stand in
market, I believe the lady behind the stand would have turned him away.
I was reminded of the trip I took with my elderly parents to
Brooklyn, to visit the beautiful and inspiring Brooklyn Tabernacle and hear the
choir sing. And how on that trip home, passengers on the bus were making harsh
and unkind judgments of people who were demonstrating in the park. And how in
the darkness inside the bus, I wept. Tears of anger then conviction as Spirit
moved in my heart, reminding me of the love of God for all people, even those
arrogant smug elderly ladies.
As April prepared to leave for work, I wondered with her,
whether maybe God would bring our conversation back to the produce lady’s mind
later today. And maybe, just maybe, she’ll wonder if there’s another way.
*The stand is owned by a conservative Christian family; all the female employees wear skirts--no jeans or shorts.
