One of the most humbling things that ever happened to me as a new Christian was coming home one day to find several full bags of groceries on my front porch. Bread, milk, eggs, peanut butter and much more. I was newly married, both of us working part-time. Me as a farmhand, her as a waitress.

Money was tight, but that was not the point. I was the one who left groceries on porches. I believed that to be Christian, you had to be a giver. Tithing, sacrificial gifts, blessing others, spending your time, talents, and money for others’ benefit. Oh, I had sat through dozens of teachings on tithing, giving and receiving, pressed down, shaken together, I had even heard that God wanted to bless me, but I “knew” what that blessing was supposed to be  – a better job, a functional car, an apartment that didn’t drop below 45 degrees in the winter time.

Finding those bags on the porch made me mad! There were other people in greater need than me. Others that needed to see that God provides though His people. Other families that needed a meal on the table that night. I didn’t need groceries, I needed a new car, a better job… Well, you get the picture.

But God is patient, and it didn’t take long for the real blessing of that day to sink in. It wasn’t about groceries, but a gentle lesson about my pride.

Somebody, who’s name I may never know, heard the voice of the Holy Spirit and acted on it. They filled some bags with groceries and dropped off exactly what I needed. Not milk and peanut butter, but an opportunity for me to get a glimpse of the mystery of God’s love for me.