The Holy Spirit - and U-Haul
by Joel Bates
I’ve never thought of U-Haul as a spiritual place, but I met God there the other day. I was picking up a small trailer for an upcoming road-trip, expecting normal things like moving vans, packing boxes and burly sales associates who double as rock-band roadies. But who I met was Kathy, and who I heard was the Holy Spirit. Kathy was the attractive looking, middle-aged lady behind the counter. She was professional and courteous, but the most notable feature about her were her eyes. I could tell from first glance that she took careful consideration about her appearance, what with the eye shadow, the tight-fitting blouse, and her highlighted hair, but her eyes were sad. I noticed it right away. Eyes tend to tell the deeper story. Jesus said that the eyes are the lamp of the body. Maybe that’s why so many of us wear shaded glasses even when the sun’s not shining. What if people knew the truth about us?
Her eyes were just sad and a little drooping with bags underneath, like they had seen too many long nights and not enough sunrises. I took note, but what could I do? Besides, I didn’t even know this woman. How awkward would it be for a perfect stranger to walk into your U-Haul store and say, “You look sad and weary and worn out from a hard life, and by the way I need the 8-foot trailer with the three-prong taillight adapter.” Maybe it’s just me, but that seems like one of those things you don’t say to people.
Then I heard a still, small voice in my head say, “Tell her.” I shook my head. “No, not here, Holy Spirit.” I thought. “Please don’t embarrass me.” Then the voice got a little less still and small, “Tell her.” I tried to pretend I wasn’t hearing Him, but since He’s all knowing it wasn’t working. “TELL HER!” He said more adamantly. “She’ll think I’m a creep.” I thought back angrily, but trying to force a smile at the lady who obliviously asked if I wanted insurance on that, “No!” I said it a little too strongly mostly in response to the Holy Spirit, but the lady paused, gave me a hard glance, and began typing again.
Just then a guy came into the room and sat down behind the counter. (He was the burly one who doubled as a rock-band roadie). I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing the Holy Spirit would never ask me to “Tell her” in front of that burly guy. I felt a twinge of uncertainty mixed with a little disappointment in myself. Had I really denied the Holy Spirit? Was it really His voice? And if it were, I’d blown the opportunity by arguing with Him in my head. Just then the lady said, “Follow me. I’ll show you to your trailer.”
The lady walked the maze of trailers as I awkwardly followed a few feet behind inching along in my Chevy Suburban, distracted at how creepy I appeared, when I heard the Spirit again whisper, “Tell her.” I looked at the woman and immediately felt compassion for her. She seemed like the type of woman who had been in too many wounding relationships, like she just wasn’t lovable anymore. “Okay,” I said aloud, “I’ll tell her.”
A minute later I was securing the trailer onto the hitch, while the lady entered some data into her phone to complete the transaction. My heart was pounding out of my chest as I looked up and asked, “Have you been asking God for a sign?” I expected her to either look at me like I was a circus clown or break down and start crying right there in the middle of the parking lot, but she did neither. She just froze for a minute, looked at me and said, “Why?” I began to mumble something or another about being a Christian and getting a sense that she needed answers and stuff, when the Holy Spirit said, “Tell her.” Her eyes remained transfixed on my face, and she again asked, “Why?” So, I told her why. I told her how God is crazy about her, why his son came to die for us all, and that even though the men in her life had wounded her and the enemy had lied to her that Jesus loved her and was the man who wanted her now and would always want her. I simply told her the truth.
The lady looked stunned, then for a moment her eyes, deep and dark, softened, glistening in response to that good news. She didn’t deny anything I’d said, nor her need of Jesus, but she did quickly compose herself and began to fuss about re-checking the hitch and final transaction details, things that we both knew didn’t matter. I knelt there feeling elated about my bravery and personal obedience to the Lord’s promptings. I began to breathe a sigh of relief that I had done my part and now the rest was up to Jesus, until I heard the still small voice again say, “Pray with her.” Here we go again! This time I was quicker to obey.
As I drove home, my U-Haul trailer in tow, I thanked the Lord for compassion to everyday people and his invitation for me to tell of this simple gospel to Kathy. With just one Spirit-filled follower in one place, listening to the one voice that matters most and telling the greatest message to one person, our incredible God is changing the world one powerful, compassionate moment at a time. All it takes is to listen and obey.
