A Conversation with God at the Gas Pump

I have some strange conversations with God. This is from 2014.

I argued with God at a gas pump today. I stood there with the fumes and a churning gas pump as they sang along and sent icky smells in the air, along with my list of reasons for not doing what God was asking me to do.

Here’s how it sounded in my head and out loud.

God to me: The lady inside needs to know I love her.
Me to God: Okay. You can tell her.
God to me: Go back inside and ‘YOU’ tell her that I do.
Me to God: But I’m hurrying to another church to be with a friend. I just left the recovery center after holding services. I’m running close. Not late, but close.
God to me: Now. Now. You have time. You made time to buy that soda, didn’t you?
Me to God: Yes. But I need some caffeine.
God to me: Just excuses. Just get your gasoline. And get yourself in there.
Me to God: But I don’t want to embarrass her. So if this is you telling me, please let the counter area be clear.
God to me: Sorry. No guarantee. Your part is simple, just go.
Me to God: Okay.
I get in the car and pull to the front of the store.
God to me: Why are you sitting in the driver’s seat outside the building staring at the lady through the window?
Me to God: She’s going to think I’m weird.
God to me: Since when do you care about that. Get out of the car.
Me to God: Did you see all those people go in? There’s at least five people inside now.
God to me: Well, if you’d gone in when you were supposed to, they wouldn’t have been there.
Me to God: All right. I’m getting out of the car.
God to me: Good.

Inside …

Me to girl: Hi. You’re going to think this is strange. But I’ve been talking to God about you out at the pump. He told me to come back inside and talk to you. So, what’s your name?
Girl at counter: Julie.
Me to Julie: Well, I don’t know what you’ve been going through or if for someone reason you feel alone. But I want you to know God loves you. And that He sees you right this second, on this Sunday morning. And that He cares about you.
Julie to me: “I just lost my mom last week. I was very close to her. I miss her so much. I’m feeling so alone without her.” She wept right there under the cigarettes, by the register, with her hand over her mouth. “Thank you so much for coming back to tell me that.”
Me to Julie: So, I’m gonna run. But isn’t it cool that God loves you enough to make me come inside again?
Julie to me: “I am so thankful He did. I could sure use your prayers.”
Me to Julie: Let’s pray now.

Back in the car 

Me to God: I went inside.
God to me: So how do you feel?
Me to God: It was like I saw Your hand on her heart this morning and Your arms on her shoulders.
God to me: And why would you have wanted to miss being a part?
Me to God: I wouldn’t. Thank you for the footprint on my hind side.
God to me: It’s the only way to get your attention sometimes. Enjoy your soda.

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