Something about giving.

Saturday was ridiculous. And wonderful.  I was in a parade.  I was on a float in a parade.  I was playing drums on a float with my old worship band in a giant Mexican Jesus parade.  It was a big all-day affair and I’m still recovering, but it was a great experience.  ”Marcha de Gloria!”  Something like 20,000 people and three hours of parading through barricaded streets.  Playing Bluetree’s “God of this City” and hearing it bounce off the buildings was remarkable.  Most unreasonable worship gig ever.

 

Later that evening, still covered in the grime of downtown Denver and my own lingering drummer stank, I found myself at a nice Italian restaurant with my grandparents and my cousin from out-of-town, Katie.  We talked quite a bit, and the food was great.  So good to see Katie!  She’s all over Africa and getting her Master’s and stuff; I envy her ambition.  My grandfather, whom we all lovingly refer to as “Howie”, insisted on me giving him a ride back to his house after dinner, which I gladly agreed to do.  On the way he asked me to pull into a gas station because my fuel gauge was characteristically on zero, so he wanted to fill me up.  Have patience with me as I tell this story.  This is worth hearing.

 

A good preface to all of this would be that I am awful with getting gifts.  I cannot stand to be given something I do not deserve at someone else’s expense, especially when it is a sacrifice for them.  The gas pump asks for Howie’s ZIP code, and twice it doesn’t accept his entry, so we go inside the station.  Howie is long retired, and although the expenses of life have increased dramatically, his income has stayed the same for years.  To fill up my car is not a cheap thing for him, and I saw it as a sacrifice he really didn’t need to make for me, even if I honestly needed it in order to get home.  So as we walk into the station I’m feeling totally guilty.  I’m being awkward with my words, awkward with getting the door for the poor man, and awkwardly analyzing the situation in my spirit, fueling a fire of guilt.  They make us pre-pay, and Howie tells the nice woman of similar age to put $50 on the card and give him the change.  Her and I both know that $50 isn’t nearly enough to fill my very-empty gas tank, but we both roll with it.  I go out to my car and begin to fuel as Howie makes the woman inside smile and laugh with his genuine joy-of-the-Lord sense of humor.  $50 comes and goes, and my tank is about 4 gallons short.  I go inside and Howie’s got two packs of Hostess Zingers picked out for me for the ride home.  They were to be bought with the change from the $50 he put on his credit card.  I regretfully tell him that there’s no change, he brushes it off and pulls a $20 from his billfold to pay for the Zingers.  We say goodbye to the gas station lady and walk to my car.  On the way he gives me the Zingers, and the change from the $20 he broke to buy them.  I keep saying things like “No, I can’t take it!”, and “You do too much for me How…”, but he doesn’t understand that I’m really bothered by his giving.  Just that week his wife had sent me a $100 check because she “Knew I needed it”, which was entirely true, but had been bugging me all week.  Now this.  These people do not have a lot of money.  We get back to his house and I hug everyone and thank them for dinner before I head off to Fort Collins.

 

So a few minutes later I’m on C 470 with a big rock of guilt in my stomach, talking out loud to myself about how I’m supposed to be taking care of them and whatnot, being angry and stressed because of their sacrificial kindness, when it hits me.  God’s gift of his son to us was so similarly sacrificial, and made the way for God to bless me and favor me like he does.  God couldn’t be so good to me if he hadn’t given up Jesus for me.  It cost him so, so much, but I was worth that to him.  He handed me the Zingers and the change.  I still felt guilty, but now it was because Jesus had died at my hands more or less, so I could be so happy and blessed.  It made sense.  The guilt turned into a healthier reverence, and an understanding thankfulness that continued through my day.  I am amazed by this God I serve.  He’s like my dear old Grandpa Howie, slow to anger and rich in love, abounding with blessings for me.  Even when my undeservedness is painfully obvious he chooses to give me every good thing.

 

On the way home I stopped by Sean and Josh’s for some chicken and some porch time, we all talked and it was great. Good to see those guys.  Then when in Denver on the way back up to the Fort, my sister called and said that everyone from Marcha De Gloria (she had co-led one of the stationary bands in city park with our friend Peter Rodriguez from The Sentinel Event) was eating at Bennegan’s off Colorado Blvd.  I pulled off the highway a block and joined the happy loud group for an hour or so as they passed around a handy cam with footage of the day’s musical gloria.  We laughed and talked I finished off Becky’s chicken salad, my third chicken meal of the day.  Tyler Goerzen was there, and we got a bit more caught up about his new girlfriend and his new church in L.A. where he goes to Bible college.  I love my friends.  They are my family.

 

I have every good thing.  I have blessings uncountable.  I have a semi-full tank of gas and a freezer full of ice cream and corn dogs to live on.  I have a pretty Mac desktop that’s about to be shut off for the night.  I have a circle of friends that edifies my spirit.  I have musical gigs the next three nights.  My life is rich and blessed, because Jesus gave me everything in heaven and on Earth when he gave up everything in heaven and on Earth.  I doesn’t make sense to me, but I humbly take hold of it:)

~ by JD on July 30, 2008.