Scavenger Hunt

     "You guys have worked so hard," Tom told us, "that tonight, instead of studying, we're going to do a fun outing."
     At this announcement, everyone sat at attention.  Twenty of us Christian teenagers from all over California had spent the last eight days doing evangelism and teaching Bible clubs for kids.  While it was a blast, and spiritually rewarding, it was a lot of work and study.  The idea of going out for a night of fun on the town seemed very appealing.
     "You'll be doing a scavenger hunt," Tom continued.  "We're taking you to the Tyler Mall, and you'll be in two's.  The first team to find everything on the list gets a prize."
     "Do you want to be partners?" I asked Rachael, a friend who had come from San Diego.
     "Sure," she smiled excitedly.  "I love scavenger hunts."
     "Me too," I nodded.  "And I know the Tyler Mall like the back of my hand.  I'm the only one here actually from Riverside.  So we'll have an advantage."
     I went to Christian Youth in Action (or CYIA) every summer of my high school years in the 90's.  Fortunately for me, training was held in my hometown of Riverside.  Some of the good friends I made (like Rachael) came from different areas.  Part of the fun each summer was seeing my friends who lived in other parts of the state.  During the year, we all wrote letters to each other.  The joy and fun from those times are some of life's happiest memories.
     That particular summer that I was sixteen, I was the only summer missionary from Riverside.  I liked doing ministry in my area.  And I was excited to be doing a scavenger hunt in the mall I had frequented all my life,
     The different staff drove us down.  I rode with a group of girls.  The whole way there, we chattered happily about the fun evening we expected to have.  About halfway there, one of the girls started singing silly preschool songs, and the rest of us (being very mature) joined along.  I still remember Mrs. East, our driver, trying to drown us out with her cassette tape of hymns (which I actually preferred over preschool songs when I wasn't caught up in the moment!).
     We all met at the mall's entrance.  Tom gave each team a list.  "You have an hour," he told us.  "Meet back here then."
     "Let's go!" I told Rachael as we excitedly entered the mall.
     Rachael looked at the list.  "First thing is a gum wrapper."
     "Candy shop's this way," I pointed out.  Grinning, I added. "We can buy some cheapo gum for the wrapper, but we can also buy candy for us!"
     Rachael liked this idea.
     After securing the the gum wrapper, Rachael told me the next item was a toothpick.
     "Let's check the Carl's Junior [fast food joint--my favorite chain in the western US, but it is no longer in the Tyler Mall]," I told her.  "It's this way,  My dad always gets a toothpick when we go to Carl's Junior, so I know they have them."
     Following the toothpick, we needed to get the price of a deck of cards, which we got at the game and hobby shop.  We were making excellent time.  We very quickly got the other items on the list.  Even in our excitement, we tried to be a good witness.  After all, we had spent all week sharing Christ, and we were wearing Christian T-shirts.  We were good teenagers, not like some of the rough ones who came through the mall on Friday nights like this.
     "We're almost out of time," I told Rachael, looking at my watch.
     "That's good, we only have one thing left!  We need an ATM receipt."
     "Here's the ATM machine," I said.  We were in the food court, and the ATM machine was right there.  "Maybe someone left their receipt."  No such luck.
     "What are you two looking for?" A voice asked us.  We looked over to a nearby table.  Four women were seated around it.  They had Bibles open.  Clearly, they were Christians studying the Word together.  This was great!  Other Christians might be able to help us win!
     We explained that we needed an ATM receipt to help us win the scavenger hunt.
     "You can have mine, as long as it's okay if I rip off the part with my account number and remaining balance on it."
     "Of course!" We excited told her.
     We were happily telling these women how we were Christians too when suddenly, a heavy hand came down on my shoulder.
     Nearly jumping out of my skin, I turned, as did Rachel.  A tall, burly man in a uniform stood behind us.  Beside him were our CYIA friends Crystal and Jeremy, one of the other teams.
     "Are you part of the scavenger hunt?" the man asked seriously.
      We admitted we were.
     "Well, it's against the mall ordinance for you to have a scavenger hunt, so I have to escort you out.  I just caught your friends here," he indicated Crystal and Jeremy.
     "Can I at least go to the bathroom?" Crystal asked.  "I'll go out right after."
     "I'm sorry," he said seriously.  "This is a serious rule you've broken and I must escort you out.  You can come back to this mall tomorrow, as long as it's not for a scavenger hunt."
     "What's going on?" Two other teams came up to us.
     The security guard repeated his announcement.  "You can come back to this mall tomorrow," he said again.
     "Oh, we'll probably never come back," Paulina told them happily.  "We're not from Riverside.  Only Janelle is!" She pointed at me.  Thanks a lot!
     "Well, take me to your youth leader," He said.  I guess he surmised by our Christian T-shirts and relatively cooperative behavior that we were a church group or something.  As we walked out with the security guard, other shoppers looked at us.  Parents told their children not to grow up to be bad teenagers who needed to be taken out by a security guard.  It was embarrassing!
     The further we got, the more of our friends were caught and added to our group.  Poor Crystal could barely contain herself!
     "Hey Janelle!" A voice yelled.
     I instinctively turned at the sound of my name, but then wished I hadn't.  A woman from my church was waving excitedly.  She was at the mall with her husband and children.  This woman worked in AWANA with my family, her husband taught Bible studies in our church, and I babysat the boys.  What would they think of seeing me escorted out?  Well, maybe she couldn't tell what was happening.
     "See you Sunday!" I waved back with no explanation.  Yes, being from the same city had been an advantage in the scavenger hunt, but not so much now!
     Once we got outside, the security guard confronted our summer missionary staff, who promised we would never do a scavenger hunt in the mall again.  After he went back inside, Crystal sneaked back in quietly just to use the restroom right inside.
     The good news was, Rachael and I had won.  Our prize was a box of candy apiece (we didn't eat it then).  On the way back to missionary training, we got ice cream.
     "What are our parents all going to say when they find out we got arrested!" some of the guys started laughing.  The rest of the summer, everyone kept talking about our experience as our "arrest".  Even though it was not a real arrest, there was very little worse for a 90's teenager than being kicked out of a mall!
     What I glean from this is twofold:
     1) Youth leaders need to clear activities with local authorities (even innocent ones like ours was).  I always remembered this when I worked with my church kids on fun activities (and yes, I did a scavenger hunt with them--but at a different mall where it was allowed).
     2) In the worst situations that seem like a bad testimony, the best thing we can do is still act godly.  I'm sure our cooperation went a long way in being a good testimony to the security guard.  Christians are always on witness for God.  We may not have control of circumstances, but we can control what kind of testimony we'll have.

Dogs, Seat Belts, Pay Phones, Ten Dollar Bills...and Faith

    BRRRRRING! The telephone on our counter rang, shattering the Saturday afternoon silence.

     "Janelle, can you get that?" My mother called from the laundry room.  

     "Sure!" I shouted (so she could hear me over the sound of the washing machine and dryer).  Lifting up the cordless phone, I answered. "Hello?"

     "Hi, Janelle, this is Sarah Upton* [*name changed]."  

     Sarah Upton.  She and her sister Ruth* had become friends of mine over the summer when I had taught a 5-day Bible club in their home.  Our local director of Child Evangelism Fellowship had set it up.  The Upton* sisters were high school students, like I was in 1997.  We had seemed to hit it off, at least on a basic level.  We were all Christians, and shared some common interests.  It was during the Bible club I taught that I discovered there were some interesting differences.  

     On the first day, we'd had the Bible club in the front yard.  It was nice out, and it seemed like a good idea...until a dog next door began to bark at us.  My guess is, the poor dog wasn't used to so many people in the yard next to his.  Like any dog, he barked to let us know he had his eye on us.  Nothing really unusual about that.
     Apparently, Mrs. Upton saw this as something very different from me.  Standing up, she walked over to the fence and yelled "I rebuke you!"  

     I was surprised by this.  Was she implying the poor dog was possessed?  

     Her demonstration didn't change anything.  The dog kept on barking.  This led us to have the Bible club in the Upton's living room the next day.

     Later in the week, in the course of conversation, Sarah Upton said it was a sin to disagree with one's pastor because they're "God's anointed".  I didn't even know how to process this.  Ruth jumped in to tell me how wonderful their pastor's sermon had been that past Sunday.  I asked what it was about.  Ruth smiled, "It was all about how women talk too much, and never think before they speak, but men always think it through first."

     "Don't you think that's a little sexist?" I asked.  Both girls had looked surprised and confused.

     This had really rubbed me wrongly.  Who was this pastor, if he didn't allow his congregants to disagree with him, and said such disparaging things about women?  Why would any female listen to him?  I liked Sarah and Ruth, but wasn't sure I could ever go to their church.

     So now, a few months later, I was receiving a phone call from Sarah.  We had kept in touch a little since the 5-day club, so it wasn't that unusual she'd call to chat.

     "What's up, Sarah?" I asked.

     "Our church youth group is having a picnic next Saturday, and we want to invite you to come with us."

     Her church youth group?  The church with the "anointed" pastor you weren't allowed to disagree with?  

     "Is your pastor going to be there?" I asked.

     Sarah didn't seem to think this an odd question.  "No, just the youth group.  It's at the park.  There'll be food, volley ball--all that fun stuff."

     Hmm, this sounded like it could be fun.  Sarah told me they would pick me up.  What did I have to lose?  "Let me ask my parents.  I'll be right back."

     My mom and dad were talking in the kitchen.  I asked them if I could go with Sarah and Ruth to their youth group's picnic.  

     "As long as the Uptons have enough seat belts in their car," Mom told me seriously.  Several of our friends crammed as many people in the car as possible, and my parents were very against breaking the seat belt law. 

     "I'll ask them about that," I promised.

     Returning to the phone, I told Sarah I could go, as long as they had enough seat belts.  

     "Seat belts," Sarah seemed to be thinking.  "Sometimes we have them.  We should definitely have them by next Saturday."

     This sounded very odd to me.  "Wait, sometimes you have seat belts and sometimes you don't?" I asked.  

     "Forget it.  We'll have seat belts.  Don't worry."

     Well, the Uptons did have seat belts.  Mr. and Mrs. Upton sat up front.  I sat between Sarah and Ruth in the back seat.  Mr. Upton had a deep frown on his face as he drove.  He said very little, but his silence was deafening.  Something did not please him, and I had the suspicion it was me.  When he did speak, he snipped and snapped at his wife.  Everyone acted like this was perfectly normal, so I tried to as well.  

     Before I had left, my mom had only one request.  "Please find a phone and call me when you're heading home."  No problem.  I had a quarter in my purse.  

     Mr. Upton pulled onto the freeway, his intense face getting redder by the second.  I was confused.  "Where are we going?"

     "Our church.  It's in Orange County," Sarah told me. 

     "That's a long way," I remarked.  Like me, the Uptons lived in Riverside County.  

     "It's a true church," Sarah told me.  "Lots of people come from Riverside County to our church."  

     After an hour of Mrs. Upton's hard-to-understand jokes, and Mr. Upton's brooding crankiness, I was relieved when we got off the freeway.  We drove slowly up the road.  We passed a street sign that said Ball Road.  Mrs. Upton laughed and said, "Basketball!"  I pretended to laugh, since everyone else seemed to think it was hilarious.  Next we passed Chip Street.  "Chocolate chips!" Mrs. Upton laughed, and again, we all joined her.  

     The picnic was actually fun.  The youth group kids were pretty nice.  I almost forgot I had an hour drive home with the Uptons.  A while later, they picked us up.  

     "Can we stop at a pay phone?" I asked.  "My parents want me to call them."  

     "A pay phone!" Mr. Upton grumbled under his breath, as if I had just asked them to buy me a Rolex watch.  I felt nervous.  I did not want to make this man mad at me.  

     "There's a pay phone," Mrs. Upton pointed to the side of the road.  

     Mr. Upton pulled over sharply, kind of scaring me.  I hopped out and walked to the phone.  There was a sign over it that said, LOCAL CALLS 25 CENTS.  I was concerned.  Since I lived in a different county (with a different area code) than we were currently in, I didn't think it would count as local.  Would my quarter be enough? 

     Mr. Upton got out of the car and stood by me, glaring down at me.  He acted like he suspected my phone call had some subversive motives far beyond calling Mom and Dad.  Nervously, I pulled out my quarter and deposited it in the phone.  I then dialed my home phone number.  An operators's recorded voice said, "Please deposit an additional ten cents to complete this call."  

     "Shoot, I don't have a dime," I said aloud.

     "Here," Mr. Upton put a dime in the phone slot.  The phone began to ring.

     "Thank you," I looked up at him before my mother answered the call.  I told her we were heading home from Orange County and would be there in an hour.

     "Take your time and have fun," my mom replied.  We ended the call.  I hung up.

     "You are going to pay me back, right?" Mr. Upton frowned deeply at me.  I was shocked.  He wanted his dime back?  I didn't have a dime.  If I did, I would have used it to complete the call.  

     "I don't have change.  Just bills--"

     "I'll take it," he held out his hand.  What?  He wanted a dollar to pay him for giving me a dime?  So instead of giving up a measly ten cents, he wanted to extort ninety cents from me?  Back in 1997, ninety cents could buy more than today, and to a teenager who enjoyed riding her bike down to the store for a Pepsi or candy bar, ninety cents was a lot.  But he was frowning seriously and holding out his hand impatiently at me.  I didn't know what he would do to me if I didn't give it to him.  Sighing, I reached into my purse and pulled out a dollar bill and forked it over.  He wasted no time in taking it.  "That's very nice of you to pay me back for doing you a favor," he said.  "You didn't have to."

     We got into the car.  I thought we would get on the freeway and go home.  No such luck.  Mr. Upton pulled in at a drive-through fast-food joint.  Was he buying us all dinner?  I wouldn't ask, but I kind of hoped so.  I was getting hungry, and the picnic lunch had been quite a while ago now.  

     "Yes," he said into the drive-through intercom, "I'd like a jumbo cheeseburger, an extra-large fries, and mega iced tea, easy ice."

     "That'll be three-seventy-five, sir," the voice on the other end told him.  

     "Thank you."  We drove up to the next window.  

     So Mr. Upton was buying himself food, but nothing for his wife, girls, or guest (me).  How rude!  

     "That's three-seventy-five," the cashier told him at the window.
     Mr. Upton felt in his pockets and scrounged up two dollars and some change.  "Oh, no!  I don't have enough," he growled.  What was he going to do?  I didn't want to know.  

     "I have another dollar.  Here," I shoved it at him.

     "Oh, thanks," he took it as if it were his due.  Happily, he paid for his food.  It smelled so good in the car, and it made me hungrier!  

     As we drove on, I wondered what kind of person went through a drive through and ordered without knowing for sure they had enough money?  For that matter, what kind of person ate in front of four other hungry people?

     On the drive back, Sarah and I began talking about an earthquake that had happened that summer.  I said it was scary.  

     This got Mr. Upton's attention. 

     "If you're afraid of an earthquake, you have no faith!  Faith and fear cannot coexist in someone.  You should be happy if you die in an earthquake, because you'll go to heaven!  And if you don't die, why be afraid anyway?  It's probably God's will!"  

     I didn't even know what to say to this.  "I trust God's will," I said, trying to jump on the same wavelength.  

     But Mr. Upton wasn't done with his crazy tirade yet.  He went on for ten minutes about how people who were afraid of earthquakes were abominable.  

     "God has a sense of humor," Sarah jumped in. "Having you live in California and scared of earthquakes."

     I didn't see humor myself.  I love my home state of California (and miss it now that I live in South Dakota).  Every state has some natural disaster that can be scary.  I didn't say earthquakes traumatized me or ruined my life or anything.  Excuse the pun, but earthquakes just shake me up for a minute.  That's all.

     We were finally getting close to home.  We had crossed into Riverside County, and were in the city of Corona.  I lived on the other side of Corona, and was delighted to be back in my own city.
     "Oh no!"  Mr. Upton exclaimed suddenly.  "I'm almost out of gas!"

     "There's a gas station on the next corner," I told him.

     "Not much good when you don't have money!" he snapped at me.  

     Why did they go to church so far away if they couldn't afford the gas to get home?  And this hadn't even been a regular church day.  It was a completely optional youth picnic.  Why on earth did they go if they couldn't afford it?  Kind of similar to going through the drive-through without enough money.  This was madness!  And now I would be stuck with them and their empty gas tank.  I couldn't take it anymore!

     I pulled out the last ten dollars.  It was a ten dollar bill, given to me by a family I babysat for.  Back then, ten dollars could practically fill the tank.  "Here," I thrust it at him before I could talk myself out of it.  

     Mr. Upton had no qualms accepting a tenth-grader's hard-earned cash.  He seemed to think I owed it to him.  He took it as if he'd been waiting for me to pay him.  

     "I'll pay you back," Mrs. Upton told me as her husband pumped the gas.  I doubted this would happen, but nodded as sweetly as I could.  I was so glad to be almost home.

     I got home and told my family about the crazy time I'd had.  About a month later, Mrs. Upton wrote me a letter with three one-dollar bills in it.  She assured me the other seven were coming when she could afford it.  My mother's heart went out to them, and she wrote back to Mrs. Upton, telling her not to worry about paying.  She said she had wanted to give them a little gas money for taking me out.  Mom then paid me the remaining seven dollars.  Good ol' Mom.

     I only saw the Uptons one other time after that, at a skating party.  Sarah and Ruth refused to tie the laces of their skates and kept tripping.  What can we say?  It takes all types.  Wherever they are now, I hope God's blessings befall them.  

Miracle Upon Miracles

    "Lord, don't let it die on me now!" I pleaded as my van and I came to a stop at a stop sign.  I was supposed to be meeting up with a church friend for lunch.  My van had been having more and more difficulties.  The truth was, I needed a new vehicle badly.  I didn't know just how badly!

     After stopping at the sign like a good, law-abiding citizen, I took my foot off the break and applied it to the gas pedal.  Nothing.  "Come on!  Don't do this!"  As if it understood me, the van lurched forward, but it wasn't promising.  I didn't know what to do!  Looking up, I saw a garage to my right.  I had used them before, and been satisfied.  Knowing my van might not go much further, I saw this as Providential as I pulled into the parking lot.  God hadn't let me get stranded in some inconvenient place.  That was something to be thankful for.  

     I had just gotten my tax refund, and I found myself wondering how much of it would be going into this repair.

     After checking it in and giving the mechanic my cell number, I then found myself with a new problem.  I was supposed to meet up with my friend.  The restaurant was three miles away, and we were supposed to meet in ten minutes.  I walk fast, but not that fast!  

     This was when a second miracle occurred (the first being that my van was almost dead right near the mechanic).  I looked up and saw that the bus was coming to a stop right at the curb!  It was the bus that went right by the restaurant!  I could just make it!  I hopped on and paid my dollar-twenty-five.  I arrived just as my friend Ruth was getting out of her car. 

      We enjoyed a pleasant lunch.  Somewhere in the middle of it all, the mechanic called to tell me some very bad news.  My van was too far gone.  Now what?  

     I told Ruth, and the two of us prayed together.  

     "I have an idea," Ruth said after we finished.  "My husband wants to sell cars to auctions.  He might be interested in buying it from you."  A quick call to her husband revealed that yes, he was interested.  He offered me $100 more than the junkyard would have paid me.  "If you can get it to our house," he added.  

     By this point, I saw too much of God at work to doubt the car would make it the few miles to their home.  

     This left only one problem.  Yes, I had my tax refund, and now the triple-digit check I would be given for my van, but how would I afford another vehicle?  

     Just then, my phone rang again.  This time, it was my sister.  She and her husband were getting ready to move from California to Idaho.  They were significantly down-sizing, and wanted to know if I wanted their second car, free of charge!

     Ruth and I were overwhelmed at how fast this was all coming together.  We rejoiced, thanking the Lord!  We made the plan.  She would drive me from the restaurant to my van.  I would drive it (praying the whole time it would make it!) to her house, following her.  She would then drive me to my sister's, and I could get my new (to me) car!

     As I followed Ruth to her house in my dying van, a scripture came to mind. Isaiah 55:12 You will go out with joy and be led forth with peace... That is exactly how I felt as I drove.  The sun was shining brightly.  God was at work.  It was so clear.  I felt deep joy surging through my being.

     To quickly wrap up the first part of this miraculous story, my clunker van made it (Ruth's husband paid me right away and then sold it within a few weeks).  I got my "new" car from my sister.  I was able to get it smogged (a California requirement for cars) before the shop closed.  The next day, I was able to switch the title and insurance to my name.  This was great!  God had really provided!

     If the scripture theme of the first part of this story is Isaiah 55:12, the verse I would give to part two is this: John 12:24 ...unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains alone, but if it dies, it produces much fruit.  

     I had owned my car four days.  I had told everyone how God has miraculously worked everything out.  I was coming home from work that day.  It was late afternoon, and the sun was sinking.  I was almost home.  The traffic light was red, so I slowed down, preparing to stop.  Quickly, though, the light turned green before I was stopped, so I sped back up and entered the intersection.

     CRASH!  I felt an impact hit the side of the car, right behind me.  I heard the sound of medal crumpling.  I was spinning.  It happened too fast to be afraid yet.  

     I came to a stop facing the opposite direction, on the other side road, but still in the intersection.  What had just happened?  At that moment, I felt real grief.  In one fell swoop, I had lost my miracle car.  What did it all mean?  It wasn't my fault.  My light was green.  

     I tried to get out, but the door was smashed shut.  

     "Ma'am, are you alright?" a woman ran to the side.  

      I rolled down the window.  "I can't get out."

     "Maybe you should stay inside," she advised.  "It wasn't your fault, by the way.  I saw it.  The other driver ran a red light."

     I appreciated her reaching out, but I had to get out of the car.  I climbed to the passenger side and got out.
     "Janelle, are you okay???"  

     I turned to see Mrs. Dawson, a woman I knew from Bible study. 

     "Mrs. Dawson?"  

     "Yes!" She gave me a hug.  "My family saw the whole thing.  We'll help you make the report to the police."

     The Dawson family are very special people.  Salt of the earth.  I later found out their daughter, twelve-year-old Chrissy (one of my former Bible students), was sharing the gospel with the other driver and her hysterical daughter.  Only God could have orchestrated that.  

     A police officer blocked off the intersection and took the report.  Paramedics looked me over.  

     The other driver apologized profusely.  The setting sun had blinded her, and she had thought her light was green.  She took full responsibility right away.  

     The Dawsons gave me a ride home (before going back to give the other driver and her daughter a lift).  They prayed with me before they left me.

     I got inside my house, and I broke down crying.  How could this have happened?  I was so sure God had worked everything out for me to get this car...now it was hopeless!  I slept fitfully all night.  Every slamming sound (car doors outside, etc) woke me up with a start.  

     The long and short of it was this: my car was totaled.  My heart was heavy.  But here's where things start getting really amazing.

     The other driver's insurance covered me to have a brand-new rental car for two weeks, and paid me a very generous check for my totaled car.  A friend found out about a man a few blocks from me who was a car dealer, but sold them at his house.  I took a test drive, and fell in love with what was to become my new car.  It had a salvaged title (meaning it had been totaled at one point, but repaired).  It was in excellent condition, but because of the salvaged title, it was being sold for a very low price--half the amount of the check from the insurance company!  All this and I still had my tax refund and the amount I'd been paid for my van!

     That car, my Ford Taurus, has proven to be a faithful car.  Not long after all this, I met and married my husband.  We lived in the San Bernardino mountains.  The faithful Ford Taurus kept us safe on the winding (sometimes icy) mountain roads.  It faithfully got us halfway across the country when we moved from California to South Dakota.  It continues to faithfully get us where we need.  God knew exactly what He was doing all along.  Had I gotten in the accident with my dying van, I surely wouldn't have gotten such a good check.  Had I not gotten in the accident and just kept my sister's old car, I would never have learned as much as I did about God's redemptive power.  Plus, this car is a little bit better.  God knew all this!  

     Whenever my faith is weak, I look back on this miraculous series of events.  God clearly showed me Himself at work all through this.  My van dying right at the mechanic; the bus pulling up right then; Ruth's husband willing to buy the van; my sister wanting to give her car to me right then; my van making it to Ruth's; getting my sister's car smogged and registered in my name so quickly; the accident at that exact moment in time; nobody being hurt; the Dawson family being right there and minstering to all of us involved; the other driver taking complete responsibility; the insurance getting me that rental; the very generous check; the inexpensive vehicle being sold just blocks from me.  These things don't just happen.  They're not coincidences.  God was involved in all of it.  

     I don't even believe this experience was so unique.  I think God is always at work in our lives.  He just showed me in a very concentrated way.  It might not always seem dramatic like that, but God is always faithful.