There are many things about God that are incomprehensible. I’d like to know why we can’t see the wind. How is it we can taste and feel water, but are unable to see it except through its projection upon other objects? Or why is the dark only projected by the light instead of the other way around? I can’t explain any of these things. I’m not spiritual enough. My flesh depends too much on what I can see instead of what I can’t.
Yet, there are many inexplicable things about the Father that attest to His greatness. You know, those things that make you tongue-tied, or leave you in awe. In your state of confusion, you want to dismiss it, but can’t.
I woke up one dreary morning fighting for my life. Despair and loneliness seemed endless. I can’t tell you what set this turmoil into motion. All I know is that I felt like dead leaves swirling around in the wind, landing any and everywhere. My soul felt drenched in someone else’s sweat, then tossed in a dryer and spun around until I couldn’t see straight.
As a distraction, I drove to the bookstore—a place I love. The sky was heavily overcast, dreary, damp, and cold. I didn’t have an ounce of anticipation of finding a book and returning home to snuggle under the covers and read for the rest of the day. I didn’t anticipate seeing anyone I knew. I didn’t anticipate engaging in conversation. I seemed to want everything—companionship, coffee with a friend, to laugh out loud. And yet, I seemed to want nothing at all.
As I waited at the red light before entering the Barnes & Noble parking lot, I saw a tall woman cross the street several hundred yards away. I thought, “That’s odd. Why would she be out in this weather?”
My light turned green and I drove into the parking lot, got out, and went into the store. I had no intentions to go to the café, yet, I followed the woman inside. In a quiet stupor, I stood in front of the cashier then slowly went through my wallet and pulled out money to pay for something I hadn’t purchased. I felt as though I was dreaming, but I wasn’t.
“Would you like something to eat?” I heard myself say to the woman. She wanted a hot drink, but I insisted she eat something, too. I instructed the cashier to give her whatever she wanted, give her the change, and to please treat her with dignity. Unmoved by what I had done, I left the counter as quietly as I had appeared and moseyed through the store not knowing why I was there or what I wanted. Eventually, I drifted from one table to the other, searching through books, searching for what life couldn’t give me.
A man appeared. I can’t tell you where he came from or how he left. He was happy. He had a huge grin on his face. He never spoke and neither did I. After one quick glance at him, I went to another table. There he was again. Smiling. I remember he wore a white shirt and what looked like kache pants. Again, I glanced at him then went to another table and continued browsing through books.
I never wondered about the man or the woman. I was on autopilot. I never felt threatened. I was never afraid.
I went home, propped myself in my chair, and read the book I purchased. I found it peculiar my heart felt a little lighter. After all, not much of my day had changed. I continued to drift from one moment to the next then eventually went to bed and fell asleep.
During the night, in my dreams, the revelation of the day unfolded. Tears streamed down my face. I propped myself on one elbow, and I whispered “Oh, my God.” These souls who I had come in contact with weren’t human. I can’t prove this. I’m sure I sound crazy to most. Ridicule won’t change my experience or the explanation for it. The Holy Spirit revealed this to me and I do not and will not deny this truth. God had chosen to bring me comfort by offering me an opportunity to serve others. I’d like to think He wanted to see if, while in my darkest hour, I could still serve Him.
Hebrew 13:2 reads: “Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.” It is truly amazing that as low as I felt that day, God gave me an opportunity to serve Him even though I wasn’t fully aware what was happening to me.
God’s presence in your life does not depend on your knowledge, but on your willingness to serve. Will you . . . serve?
Donna B. Comeaux
Freelance Writer, Poet, Author