The Work

            

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

~Ephesians 2:8-10~

            

            The kid looked sick.

            Calling him a kid was a stretch, as he was neck and neck with Julie’s five foot six. That put them eye to eye, though on opposite ends of the poorly stacked gas station aisle. Yet, his sandy hair was the typical teenage shaggy and he had a baby face to boot. It was a freckled face that was pale despite his local tan. He was dressed for the late spring weather, except for a sleeveless and wrinkled gray hoodie.

            Julie- her own hair bunched up in a bun and a Desti-nationt-shirt over khakis- had a hold of some pretzels and orange crème sodas, but she could only watch his body hug the corner of the aisle. His fingers absently inspected the canned chips and jerky, but his lips were pulled in. As though to keep from vomiting all over the dingy tiles.

            Her initial thought was how late it was. She and her husband should’ve been checked into their rental hours ago and were faced with paying a greedy hotel for the night. But, road trips were meant for detours. Too bad that also meant frequent fill-ups. 

            He’s not old enough for a car. Julie was convinced, her pretzels going back on the shelf. Thoughts kept clicking in, one after the other. I’m not hungry. This boy is though. 

            Ok, maybe not right now. But he was nervous about becoming so. Julie straightened, still watching as the boy tilted his head to eye above the aisle. He cashier was half asleep, three yards away. And he was watching waytoo long. That sick look falling deeper and deeper across his face.

            Julie’s heart quickened. She didn’t look down at his pockets. If there was the bulge of a gun, she didn’t want to know. Rather, instinct turned her eyes to the doors, where Aaron waited for her. The normal response here would be for her to walk through them, leave this scenario behind before it escalated.  A college roommate had done so at a station in Kentucky. And yes, the fear of being caught in the middle of something bad and bloody called flight. But Julie’s only fear was; He’s too young to die.

            Her motions felt outside her sweat and sand sprinkled skin as Julie dog for the inside zipper of her purse. Her flip flops squeaked with her one-eighty, deafening to her ears. The cashier didn’t notice. Neither did the kid. Still, Julie moved forward. Oh Lord, where are you taking me? 

            That was a rhetorical question. Without a sensible answer. I know that I pray for Your timing and my patience to coincide, but I think You can agree- 

            “Is this yours?” 

            The kid broke out of his rigid stance, his hood falling back. Julie’s voice was too airy, like when she tried to sound cool- or rap, to Aaron’s dismay. She was just as rigid as the kid now. Nonetheless, she extended her arm farther. Between clammy fingers, were her two emergency fifty-dollar bills. “Is. This. Yours?”

            Her question came more defined this time, hitting the boy fully. Eyes, too round and too brown for the hardness that was in them, stared between Julie and the money. He swallowed. “What.”

            It was more word then question. His wavering confidence caused Julie’s to grow. “Maybe if you kept your drawers up, stuff wouldn’t fall so readily out of your pockets.” 

            The boy at least looked confused now, staring at his pants, then Julie again. Compassion flooded her stomach as she felt his tension and indecision. 

Meanwhile, her thoughts, plagued by her trolling status of news updates, raged at her. He’s going to rob you both and then what? He’ll buy drugs. Every penny of this will go towards drugs, alcohol, dirty magazines-

That’s what common sense told her, that nothing good or useful would come out of giving this kid her money. Too bad Julie’s sense and God’s weren’t quite the same. Though neither of them were making sense as this would be robber continued to stare. Julie only felt the urge to stare back. She wouldn’t force it on him. That wasn’t the point.

So then, what it? Julie licked her lips in the discomfort that was setting in. I don’t know this kid, God. I don’t owe him anything.

But God does.

That last nudge must’ve been felt by all because the kid finally swiped the bills from Julie’s hand. “Thanks. Thanks for that.”

He went back to looking ill, only this time with relief. Julie’s own knees were shaking, but she smiled at him before turning back down the aisle. She was relieved too, but she needed to get out of here! Julie hit the door open with both hands and let the midnight air blast her, all thick and humid like an Alabama drawl. Julie filled her lungs with it, combating the slight dizziness going to her head. Why!? Why did You have me do that??!?

“Get anything?” Aaron called from the car, saving her from not hearing an answer. Julie smiled at her husband, though it was more plastic then the one she gave inside. “Realized I didn’t have an appetite.”

Aaron shrugged, his brown hair bushy from their day on the road. He leaned on the pump, like no great thing had passed. Only it had. Come and gone, leaving Julie with nothing but shaky memories- and questions. She made it into the car before her legs could give out. Head against the seat, Julie let her nostrils flare out the adrenaline. She supposed part of her still expected to hear a gunshot from inside or hear a police car rip into the torn asphalt holding the station up. Nothing though. The night went on, only the stars watching Aaron fill the tank and Julie work out her nerves.

 “You’re so…” Julie eyed the storefront of the gas station. She wanted to say annoying, frustrating, call God heartless even for not explaining. Heck, she was thinking it so what was the difference to hear it out loud?

Knowing better. Julie reminded herself, replaying the boy’s panicked and lost expression. His hesitation had spoken volumes. Don’t let me do this! it had cried. Please, somebody, stop me from doing this!

Aaron climbed in, dispelling Julie's wonderings. After all, she hadn’t heard this for sure. She could only speculate about what had gone on inside of that boy. 

"Julie?" Aaron peeked at her in his sweet, inquisitive way. Julie didn't know which emotion her face was going with. She just took Aaron's hand, something solid and sure to hold. It happened… and I’ll never know why. 

God was the only sure one here. And Julie would have to be satisfied with that.

THE END 

Ephesians 2:8-10 was the prime and polish of my college education. It was what our professors wanted to gear us up for, being hard-hitting disciples of Christ, even in everyday workplace situations. But it wasn't until after I graduated that life taught me what this passage really means. 

Our works don’t always come with a summery or a time stamp. Those concrete details that we’re so fond of and take great comfort in won't always be there to explain what God is asking us to do. All we'll have to go on is the word of God. Even if it’s one word and it’s Go. That’s all Abraham had to ‘go’ on; Noah had a ‘boatload’ of instruction, but with no evidence to back it up other then what God was promising him; Esther fasted for three days and nights to hear what God wanted her to do.... and she STILL didn't know if she would be alive after coming before the king. 

I could go on, but I won't. I'll just say that in those times we can only comfort ourselves with the fact that it meant something to God. And then, maybe we’ll remember that it wasn’t really about us in the first place.