Some people say when you need something, ask. God will provide and you must be satisfied with whatever He gives. Others would tell you to ask God for what you need, but you must be specific.
Tell God exactly what it is you want. Don’t say: “God, I need a car. Please give me a car.” Rather say: “God, I need a brand new cherry red Carrera 911 with barley coloured interior,” or “God I want a twenty year old four-by-four pickup double cab, sky-blue with a white canopy and tan interior, tinted windows and a tow-bar.”
Perhaps it works that way. I don’t know; haven’t tried it—yet. May be I should. After a friend told me the following story, I was half-convinced.
My friend, let’s call her Emmie, was standing in the order queue at the newly opened branch of KFC franchise in her local shopping centre three weeks before. The queue was long, but everyone was longsuffering because it was the weekly payday for the workers and a KFC meal was a payday treat for many.
Now, as things go, there is always something, or someone to test one’s patience. That day it was a man. From the odour, and rags he wore he was obviously homeless. This guy was hanging around close by the KFC order queue.
Some people were nervous, watching his every movement. He was either fiddling with his cuffs, scratching his scalp while leaning on the bordering railing. Every few seconds he shifted his weight from one leg to the other and glared at the people waiting to place their order. Every so often he left his post, strolled away just to return a few seconds later.
Emmie felt quite a bit uneasy when she caught him openly assessing her appearance. She clutched her bag tightly under her arm praying the queue would move faster. Slowly the queue was getting shorter as orders were placed and the hungry moved over to the queue where they waited next to the dispatch counter.
Not deliberately did she listen to the others but could not help overhearing what the woman behind her was saying: “Not long to wait now, Sweet Pie. Just hold my hand and stay close to me. That uncle is watching.”
Another commented mumbling: “He’s not watching the child. He’s watching our wallets.” Everyone who heard this clutched their bags or purses even tighter. The men checked their pockets to make sure their wallets were still in there.
Emmie’s queue moved up until there was only one person in front of her. Suddenly the homeless man staggered closer swayed and fell down at Emmie’s feet, clasping his stomach, eyes rolling and moaning softly. The atmosphere changed and everybody crowded the fallen in shock and sympathy. Guilt played a roll. They all were about to have a feast and here is this poor guy fainted from hunger. Right in front of their eyes.
One of the shop assistants brought a wet cloth to dab his face. Another tried to help him sit up. He was still groaning when someone produced an apple from a bag and offered it to him. “Here, Sir, have this apple. It is not much, but it might get you past the worst hunger.”
Before she finished her last sentence, the man rose, miraculously revived, jumped to his feet and indignantly replied: “Madam, if I wanted an apple I would have gone fainting in front of Fruit-’n-Veg.”
Emmie told me after a stunned silence the crowd started laughing. They all pitched in and bought the homeless man exactly the KFC meal he wanted. He was very specific when he placed his order and went to the right place to do his fainting. However, I doubt it would produce the same result in front of the Porsche dealer.
