Cross necklace made of flattened nails

My husband was tethered to our car by the gas pump when I noticed a strange man walking toward us. I was glad chrome and glass distanced us but I felt for my husband, a polite hostage to an uninvited sales pitch.

I watched while they talked. The man looked to be wearing clothes that had never seen the inside of a washer. He was holding a box of something, and as I looked closer, I realized the box was actually a small drawer. I was curious what it contained but not curious enough to open my car door, still thankful to have a barrier between this sketchy character and me.

I eavesdropped as best I could, piecing together enough of their conversation to realize the man was selling Jesus.  He spoke fast. It was obvious he understood he had about 30 seconds to make his elevator pitch before his “customers” were able to brush him off.

My husband bought his good riddance with a five–“I’ll make a donation to your ministry, but I don’t care for one,” assuming surely with a new bill the man would move on.  Instead, the man rounded the front of our car and said, “But your wife might want one….

There was nothing I could do but roll down my window.




Please continue reading The Gas Station Evangelist, published on Deeper Story earlier this week. Sometimes the gospel is preached louder by a seeming vagrant than preacher.

cross made of nails

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