Fourteen Cents
For the past few years, I’ve been collecting loose change that I find on the ground. I walk alot in my small town and I often find at least a few pennies every time that I am out. When I find the change, I pick it up, put it in my pocket, and bring it home to live in my spare change jar, which really only gets emptied when I’m traveling and think I’ll need money for tolls. So, I don’t pick up the change to increase my wealth.
I have noticed something about the coins, though. Many times, there are several strewn along in a row. It wasn’t like someone dropped a bunch, picked them up, and missed one. It seems like most of this change was dropped and never collected on purpose. Maybe it’s because I’m from the 1900s or maybe it’s because I tend to believe the lies that scarcity tells me, but I would never neglect to pick up loose change. I drop a quarter, I pick it up. Dimes? Nickels? Back in my pockets. Even pennies! Yes, I even pick up my dropped pennies and, obviously, those of others. I just don’t like to see things go to waste. Now, perhaps the coins aren’t left strictly on purpose so much as they are left out of sheer laziness or haste. Whatever the reason, though, I’m astonished at the number of coins I find on the ground.
But this is about more than hating to see loose change languishing out there in the street with no real purpose, destined for the bottom of some runoff stream bed or to be buried by a child as “pirate treasure” and never heard from again. It’s not about frustration with “kids these days” and their flippant attitude towards cold, hard cash. Though, those thoughts do cross my mind, that’s not why I pick it up. I pick up the change because it’s evidence, to me, that God sees me. He hears me. He’s always looking out for me.
At this point, you’re probably all like, “Hold up, hold up, hold up- you think God is looking out for you by giving you a dirty, nearly unrecognizable penny from the storm drain?” Well, yes, it’s all about perspective, after all, and no. Again, it’s not really about the pennies (or the occasional dime or nickel. I rarely find quarters out in these streets, but it does happen and when it does, I feel like I found that holographic Charizard pokemon card we all wanted in 1998). It’s about what’s going on when I find the pennies.
Take last May, for example. I was on my usual Tuesday morning meander towards campus during the last week of classes. It was cloudy, but warm, and it would drizzle a bit later that day. As it was the last week of classes, I was thinking and praying about our final gathering of the semester. I’d talked to some friends and they agreed to let us use their barn to host “Stomp the Barn” with my college friends. The event turned out great and a lot more students than I expected showed up. It was a good thing.
But as I considered that good thing, I was overcome with grief. I’ve rarely had enough teammates to do what I do on campus. We’ve done a lot and God has been glorified through it all, but I’ve always felt stretched and strained by the lack of hands to do the work before us. On this particular Tuesday, we had just placed some brand new folks on my team and I was grappling with the fact that this was another teammate’s final gathering with us. Not only were there too few new folks on my team (and every team, for that matter), but this teammate was leaving my team after six years. They’d served well alongside me and helped me build a culture and a vision for something great, something that would bless students and invite them into the kingdom of God. I love this person and I love our friendship.
My friend’s decision also created another problem: I was staring at a fall semester without any men on my team. This has happened before, but this time could be devastating to our ability to continue working on campus. It’s really easy for me to give in to despair, as I’m prone to depression and really good at figuring out the worst-case scenario. I don’t know if I’ve lived a day in recent memory where I wasn’t, at least for part of the day, overcome with despair of every sort. It’s the landscape of my mind, battered and scarred through years of abuse and neglect, that plays tricks on me and tells me that the worst is surely to come.
So, as I was walking along, picking my way through the glittering remnants of last nights’ liquor bottles, wantonly smashed on the road, I poured my heart out to God. I came to him, as I often do, full of doubt, despair, depression and the perennial request to be done with this job, this ministry, this life. Then, I saw something shining on the sidewalk besides shards of glass. I saw a penny. And another. Then two more followed by a rare wonder- a dime. Fourteen cents. That was all- someone’s lost change flung across the sidewalk among the liquor bottles, dog poop, vomit, discarded fast food remains, and me.
I quickly stooped, picked up the change, and deposited it in my pocket, fingering it for the remainder of my walk around campus. As I handled the, likely, disease encrusted change, I considered what it might mean. As I mentioned above, God often provides me with loose change when I am doubting that he’ll be good to me. It’s usually just a penny or two, but I was feeling extra down that day (and honestly, the many days, weeks, and months before it) and he gave me fourteen cents. Far beyond what I would have asked for if I were in the habit of asking for signs. (As an aside, I am not. This phenomenon of the change was something that started happening to me about ten years ago and I’ve just taken it on faith that God talks to me through filthy copper.)
Had I found only a penny on the ground, I would have known that God was saying, “Don’t worry Emily. I’ve always had your back before, I’ll have it again. Don’t worry. Let me handle this- I promise that it will turn out good”. But I found four pennies and a dime- why? I asked God this question and turned it over in my mind as I walked around campus, spinning the germy coins with my hands. At the end of all that pondering, I still didn’t have a solid answer (one rarely does when dealing with matters of this sort), but I did have some hope.
Today, I have hope that our fall semester will be good. I have hope that I’ll be able to lead my team into a deeper understanding of faith as they lead their friends to his feet for the first time. I have hope that our momentum from this past year will carry over into this one and my friends who aren’t leaders will still take ownership of their faith and our community. I have hope that my labor is not in vain and that God will give me all that I need.
And I have hope for one more thing. I don’t know how, when, or why, but I have hope that we’ll have enough hands on our team this fall. I don’t know how, when, or why, but I have hope that young men will be ministered to through our organization. I don’t know how, when, or why, but I have hope that we’ll have more than enough. Because I found fourteen cents. I didn’t even ask for a penny and I found fourteen cents.
God gives to me when I’m too desperate to ask for help. That’s who he is and why I believe in what he does.