Two Idiots and a Van Full of Stuff

My friend, Jerry, and his wife, Holly, had just dedicated everything they owned to the Lord. Three weeks later, they came home to find their carport door smashed in and almost everything gone. Two idiots had broken in and filled their van with Jerry and Holly's stuff. Jerry, still a brand-new Christian who hadn't learned to "speak Christianese" yet, said his honest reaction out loud: "Well, son of a bitch." That was exactly how he felt.

But somewhere between the shock and the sheriff showing up, something shifted. Holly found a pan and a jar of Prego the thieves left behind and started cooking spaghetti. Jerry stood in the front yard whistling. When the sheriff finally looked up from his report and asked what in the world was going on (a robbed man laughing, his wife whistling in the kitchen), Jerry told him the truth: his hope was no longer in stuff. Approximately one hundred percent of what he owned was in that van, and he still wasn't in despair, because he'd started to understand where real hope comes from and where it doesn't.

Then the moment turned. The sheriff admitted his partner, sitting right there, had killed a man in the line of duty and had been in despair ever since. That robbery, the thing that looked like pure loss, became the reason two hurting men walked through Jerry's door that night to hear that Jesus was real, was Jewish just like them, and was calling them to Him.

They did what Jerry told them to do. They asked Jesus to come to them that night. And He did.

"...you must worship Christ as Lord of your life. And if someone asks about your hope as a believer, always be ready to explain it. But do this in a gentle and respectful way. Keep your conscience clear." (1 Peter 3: 15-16) 

Jerry wasn't looking for a ministry opportunity that night. He was looking at a broken door and for something to eat. But because his hope was already anchored somewhere unshakeable, when a hurting deputy asked "what's going on here," Jerry had an answer ready. That answer became the very thing that deputy needed.

That's HOPE in action: Help One Person Everyday. Jerry didn't set out that day to help anyone. He set out to survive a bad night. But because his hope was already fixed on something that couldn't be stolen, he was free to notice the person in front of him instead of the loss behind him. The stuff being gone is what got the deputy through the door in the first place.

Most of us won't get robbed this week. But we will get interrupted by a coworker's bad day, a stranger's hard question, a moment that costs us something we didn't plan to give. The measure of where your hope actually sits isn't what you say on a good day. It's whether you can still see the person in front of you on a bad one.

What are you tempted to put your hope in that could be taken from you tomorrow? How would you respond if it were?

Think of one person this week who might be walking through their own "smashed carport" moment. Be ready with more than sympathy, be ready with the reason for your hope. Then start whistling and help them fix the door.

The above story and so much more can be found in Jerry Leachman's new book: "Brave Hearts, Strong Arms". Check it out on Amazon today. https://amzn.to/4qHrk7a