Last night I was approached by a woman in distress. As I could have guessed, she needed money. Flashing every identification card she owned, Beverly frantically began her story as if rehearsed a hundred times. “Take pictures of my license plates, I don’t care. I just need help.” Her story began to take shape and I genuinely felt her pain.
Beverly’s 17-year-old daughter had just blown out her tire on the way home from a University High School basketball game, she said. Beverly was determined to trek to Tyler to help her daughter. This of course required gasoline to make the trip and a doughnut tire to repair the car…which I was in line to provide.
Baylor University is located in Waco, Texas. The surrounding areas to campus are impoverished and before last night’s event, I had been approached several times by homeless people in search of money or food. However, this incident felt different. Beverly told me she was employed at Memorial Dining Hall, an on-campus facility. I asked her if she had any family or friends in the area that would be able to help and she told me even her supervisor at Memorial was unable to help.
She went on to explain she had no way of paying me back until her tax returns came, a whopping $2800. I told her it wouldn’t be necessary to pay me back, although much appreciated. After following Beverly to the gas station and filling her car with gas, I withdrew $30 from the ATM for her daughter’s tire. Moments before sending Beverly on her way, I asked if she was working the morning shift at Memorial. She replied with a hearty, “Well, I sure am. Maybe I can even make you a waffle.”
She got in her car, shoved the cash in her tweed pocket and drove away. As she was pulling out of the gas station parking lot, I caught one last glimpse of her before she drove away. A Grinch-like grin crept across her face and I could almost hear her cackle. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but as the night went on, I began to wonder if any element of her story was true. But then again, she did hand me her Social Security card, evidence not easy to forge.
The next morning I desperately searched for Beverly at breakfast. Waiting in the waffle line, I was eager to discover how the night unfolded. But no Beverly. No one on Memorial’s morning shrift had heard the name. I had been played, and I became very uneasy.
Throughout the day, no one comforted me like my mom did. I sent her a text, “Yea…Beverly doesn’t work here anymore. She lied to me, and I was dumb enough to believe her.” It didn’t take long for her to respond, and it was something I will never forget. She said, “You gave money to Jesus. She lied to Him, not you.” That was all it took, lesson learned.
Matthew 25:40 says, “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me."
