Those of you who have read my book are familiar with “Joe”.  I shared his story and how our paths crossed at a vulnerable season in my life.  I attached myself to him in an attempt to fill the emptiness in my soul, though he did not want that responsibility and had nothing to offer my broken spirit that would help me heal.  He recognized that I was emotionally unhealthy at that time, but he needed me to help him physically and used my neediness to his advantage.  It took about two years to get enough of his behavior before I ended our association.

During this time I had very little connection to God.  I had started listening to Christian radio during my morning commute to work and I prayed, but that was the extent of any relationship.  I did not truly know Him. 

One Saturday afternoon Joe and I were driving home.  I had worked that day in Memphis while he was tending his spaces at the flea market in Arkansas.  We stopped at a small truck stop for gas, and Joe went inside the store while I pumped.  I stood in line to pay and he was talking to the young clerk behind the counter about a model truck that was on display for sale.  There were some lower quality, lower priced models nearby.  As I approached the counter he was persuading the young woman to sell him the higher quality truck for the lower price, assuring her that he would stop back by and pay any difference if it was owed.  The heavier model was double the cost of the cheaper trucks.

Immediately I was struck by a sickening thud deep in my gut.  I knew he was lying.  I stood there silently listening to their interaction.  As I paid for the gas, I could almost hear God telling me emphatically that I could not let that girl take the fall for Joe’s theft.  I was not responsible for his actions, but I would be held accountable if I did not do the right thing because I knew this was wrong.

Joe was smiling at his feat, without any apparent concern that this girl might get in trouble.  We drove home in silence.  God’s command kept replaying in my mind throughout the rest of the weekend.  I slept very little that night and all day Sunday I was troubled.  Joe took the truck to the flea market to sell, but my soul remained disturbed.  I was angry at Joe for putting me in this position and angry at myself for being in this position. 

Dread consumed me Monday morning as I got ready for work and started my long commute to Memphis.  The truck stop was about halfway.  I had stopped at the ATM for the cash to pay the difference before I entered the interstate, and I tried to formulate what I was going to say while I drove. 

I pulled into the truck stop parking lot with a heavy heart.  Unbelievably, at the moment I entered the store and approached the counter, the manager was reprimanding the same young clerk who had sold Joe the truck at half price.  I interrupted her and explained that I had come to pay any difference owed on the model truck.  The manager was stunned.  The young clerk turned to her and said, “See, I told you he said he would come back and pay any money that was owed.”  I wanted to cry at her naïve trust in Joe’s empty assurance to return.  The young girl was smiling and the manager was still shaking her head in disbelief when I left the store. 

All of the heaviness in my heart and mind lifted as I drove onto work and I was calm the rest of the day.  When I picked up Joe that evening for the drive home, I explained how his behavior had played out and that the model truck had been paid for in full.  His head jerked in my direction at my words and the expression on my face silenced any response.

This happened about 15 years ago.  I still remember everything about the incident and God’s impression upon my heart and mind.  Joe died in 2002.  We never spoke of that episode again.  It was a defining moment in my life and my relationship with God.