Ronald McDonald House

At least two days out of the week, I find myself driving to McDonald’s.

One of my life’s little indulgences is a large iced coffee.

 The employees don’t know my name, but they always recognize me.  They smile warmly, treat me with familiarity, and even noticed when I cut my hair.

On a day like any other I met the first employee at the window.  A short, polite blonde gentleman waited behind the glass.

The moment came to pass along my change.  That’s when he pointed to me, and with a genuine smile, said, “You need to smile more.”  Not as an order, demanding and rude, but as an offer, as a reminder.

This encounter took me by surprise, and I smiled as I waved goodbye.  And continued to smile, wondering if my pain was so evident that strangers could sense it…or if his was simply a message straight from God.

I jogged through my neighborhood the other day under a cloud.  Not a cloud of rain, but a cloud of self-doubt.  The challenges of life seemed to outnumber the resources, and I questioned my ability.  And, quite frankly, I questions God’s wisdom.  Are you sure I’m the right man for this job? was the theme of my prayer.

Apparently God really wanted to give me an answer, because I heard one.  From on high.  From a deep, booming voice.  “You’re doing a good job!”  I stopped dead in my Reeboks and looked up.  Seeing nothing in the clouds, I shifted my attention to the roof of a house.  There he waved at me—a painter dressed in white and leaning against a dormer.  I waved back.  And I wondered and almost asked, “How did you know I needed to hear that?

Max Lucado wrote this in his book Cure for the Common Life: Living in Your Sweet Spot.  I very much wondered as I drove away, “How did he know I needed to hear that?”

Am I stretching theology a bit when I suggest that God put the man there, at least in part, for me?  Long before time had time, God saw each moment in time, including that one.  He saw a minister in need of a word.  He saw a fellow with a skill for painting and a heart for encouragement.  He put one on the street and the other on the roof so the second could encourage the first.  Multiply that tiny even by billions, and behold the way God sustains his world.  “God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies” (Philistines 4:9).

In all my misery and torment, I have forgotten to smile.  I have forsaken the bright spots in my life—the ones I should ferociously be clinging to for survival.

I returned today and met the same employee at his window.

“I’m trying to smile more!” I said with a laugh.

He laughed, too.  “Good, because it’s been three days!”

He doesn’t know it’s been more than three days.  It’s been four weeks.  Five hundred hours of sunlessness, sadness, and smilelessness.

God, I want to feel joy again.  Thank you for the message.  You are always here with me.

O God, you are my God, earnestly I see you; my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water (Psalm 63:1).

If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink (John 7:38).

Come unto Me and I will give you rest (Matthew 11:28).