Aaah. Walmart. My favorite place.
A few days ago I stopped at Walmart to grab a few things that we needed. I generally try to stay away from that place at all costs, but sometimes it’s unavoidable. On this particular morning, the blustery wind was gusting around me, and all I really wanted to do was put my groceries into my warm car and drive away.
As I approached my van, however, I noticed an elderly woman sitting in a motorized shopping carts, attempting to unload her groceries into the trunk of her car. I said hello to her and asked if I could help her in any way. She waved me off, thanking me sweetly in that southern way. “No, thanks, sugar. I can manage.”
I unloaded my own bags and then took my buggy to the cart corral. When I returned to my car, the woman asked if I would mind taking the motorized cart back into the store. My heart seized. Would I actually have to ride that thing? What would people think? I attempted to operate it while walking alongside it, but alas, it doesn’t work that way. So I sheepishly hopped on and rode ever so slowly toward the entrance to Walmart.
Y’all. I’m not going to lie. I felt embarrassed. Judged by people around me who were surely wondering why I was riding on this cart when I could certainly manage to walk. Honestly, it was humiliating and it gave me pause as I thought about all the people who actually need these motorized carts. Do they feel shame like I did or are they grateful for the opportunity to buy their groceries without needing much assistance? How do they feel? The slow-moving ride to Walmart’s entrance also gave me the chance to think about my own issues with pride. Why did I even care what other shoppers thought about me?
Later that same evening, I was in the kitchen peeling potatoes, the motorized cart forgotten. As I was digging out the yucky brown spots in order to get to the white fleshy goodness of the potatoes, God brought to my attention the attitude I had displayed at Walmart that morning.
Riding on the motorized cart had certainly brought me down a notch. It had humbled me and hurt my pride. But the experience had also reminded me that it doesn’t matter what people think of me. As I peeled those potatoes, God showed me that He wanted to dig out all my yucky spots – things like pride and anger and selfishness – so that He could make me white as new.
Ephesians 5:27 reminds us that Christ died for us so that He could “present [us] to himself as a glorious church without a spot or wrinkle or any other blemish. Instead, [we] will be holy and without fault.”
Isn’t that a beautiful promise? Christ can make us holy and spotless. And He can use just about anything to teach us – even motorized shopping carts and yucky brown potatoes.
I challenge you today to see God at work in your mundane tasks. I would love to hear how He is teaching you to be more like Him.