Cori Connors: Jesus pays our debts

Friday I went to the 5 Hour Store to get groceries and some Easter supplies. The store isn’t really called the 5 Hour Store, it’s actually called NPS Market Square. I dubbed it the 5 Hour Store years ago after my friend Carol first took me there. I came home and told Mom and Libby I’d discovered the perfect store. I called it the 5 Hour Store because it would take roughly 5 hours to see everything they had there. It has changed through the years, but was created originally as a place for Kelly Farmer to sell off the items he acquired in odd places; items lost in shipping, or goods returned to the manufacturer, or slightly damaged items… just general odd lots. I like it because of the mystery (you never know what you’ll find) and the potential for finding a bargain (this was more likely in the old days, though they are still to be had if you look, which adds to the magic of mystery). One side of the store sells groceries and the other is general miscellany.

As I was checking out I moved to the end of the conveyor belt to bag my groceries. The clerk told me the amount and I reached to get my credit card when the fellow who had just checked out in the next register butted right in front of me.

“Mind if I pay for your groceries today, young lady?”

I looked up at him, sort of stunned, and before I could say anything or shift over to the card reader, the deed was done.
Stop!” I said. “I’m fine! Seriously, I don’t need this. You are kind to offer, but I really am fine. Oh my goodness, this is so generous but I really can afford these groceries!” He smiled, signed the screen, and put his card in his wallet.

“Have a great day,” he said smiling, as he tucked the wallet into his back pocket and walked away. I looked at the clerk. She raised her eyebrows and shook her head. “He does this all the time.”

He walked toward the door, his wife following behind him. “Seriously?” I asked the wife, and she nodded her head. “It makes him happy.”

They were out the door before I could even gather my thoughts, let alone my groceries.

“Is this really paid for?” I asked the clerk. She nodded, saying he did it every time they shopped. She’d seen him do it for over $200 once. He never looks to see how much is owed.

I was sort of at a loss for what to do. This doesn’t happen to me. Maybe I look needy. I moved by rote through the sliding doors and out to my car, looking for the couple in the parking lot. But they were gone. Whomever they are, I send a whisper of gratitude into the universe for their goodness. And for sure I sent a prayer Heavenward, for the Lord to recognize the giving of this anonymous gift.

Yesterday our kids and their kids came over to help us in the yard. It was a loving and selfless gift they gave. The little ones tried their best to lug wagons full of bark to the beds around the yard, but eventually they gave in to the need to play in the sunshine. “We’re thirsty,” they called as they ran to the garage. I joined them at the pop shoppe by the doorway. As I was poking little stiff straws into Capi Sun drinks, I had a sudden awareness that these were purchased by someone else, and given as a gift, even when I didn’t think I needed the gift.

The fact that this quiet and generous deed, offered by a man who appeared unexpectedly, was performed on Good Friday was not lost on me. It serves as a testament of a greater deed, the foundation of all good things performed on this earth.

A gift was given to us, whether or not we think we need it.

We, in our relative immaturity, think we can handle our life burdens ourselves. Our own hard work will provide for our needs. And at first glance it appears to be true, we can be self-sufficient if we work hard enough. It takes stillness, reflection, forethought, and a measure of humility to understand that we cannot possibly pay what needs to be paid in the end. Then Someone steps in front of us, swiping his life and anointment through the divine card reader. His is the only account full enough to pay what is required. He steps in and covers the debt. In the process he blesses all of us, through blessing each of us individually. What he makes of me blesses those around me, like those little foil bags of drink quenched the thirst of my grandchildren. What He did not only covers the final bill for me, but His atonement makes each day in my life more full, more free, and more joyful.

I was reminded by that simple anonymous act of a stranger that I, debtor that I am, am in need. Recognizing my need is part of my life challenge. It’s the tricky place that those who have enough must learn to navigate: Do good. Be good. But recognize that, by nature, I will make mistakes in order to grow.

It could do me in, realizing I will never be enough. But it doesn’t.

He’s got me covered.

It makes him happy.

He does it all the time.