A Treasury of Miracles for Teens (7 page)

But what if they didn’t play to large crowds? What if the tour stayed in small towns for an entire year? Ashley shuddered
at the thought. She had lived in Southern California since junior high and knew how much she would miss her friends. It was
a big risk. But Ashley also loved to sing. She had dazzled local audiences since she was four years old and had occasionally
been approached by talent agents.

She’d even developed a fanlike following among the large congregation where her father was minister. And though she was not
quite ready to cut an album, the idea of singing nearly every night for a year was enticing. Finally, the possibility of getting
her dream off the ground loomed larger than her concerns about the small towns.

“Okay,” she told her mother a few days later. “I’ll do it.”

Her mother’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Yes.” Ashley swung her hair over her shoulder. “Maybe this is the break I’ve been waiting for.”

“The break you’ve been looking for?” Her mother wrinkled her nose. “This trip isn’t about getting discovered, Ashley. It’s
about serving God with your gift of music.”

Ashley gave a short laugh. “That’s what I mean.”

“I hope so.” Her mother hesitated for a moment and leveled a serious look at her. “Without the right mind-set, you’ll be nothing
but disappointed by a trip like this.”

Ashley knew her mother was right, but privately she was certain this trip would break her music career open. Yes, she would
be using the gift God gave her. But couldn’t she get discovered at the same time? Ashley was certain she could.

A month later, Ashley flew to Wyoming and met up with the rest of the Alive singing group. Fred and Rita were the couple in
charge, and they treated Ashley like a daughter. Despite the lack of city luxuries, Ashley sang as lead vocalist at a different
church every night that week. She was hooked. And besides, once the group set out on its national tour they would spend time
in bigger cities. Certainly the audiences would be bigger, too.

At the end of the trial period, Ashley flew home, spent a week packing, and after bidding her family and friends farewell
she flew to meet the group in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. The group traveled from one city to the next in Fred and Rita’s motor
home.
Each night they would sing at a different church, hoping to soften the hearts of those in attendance. Typically, when the
performance was over, they would collect small donations that would pay their food and gasoline costs until they reached their
next destination.

For the first few weeks, Ashley could hardly contain her excitement. Not only was she singing with a professional group, touring
the country, but night after night she was watching people come to know God. The experience gave her an indescribable joy.
God had a purpose for her life, and she could hardly wait for each night’s concert.

But as time passed, the joy of singing began to wear thin. Not only that, but the group’s meager accommodations began to irritate
Ashley. More often than not she found herself thinking about the inconvenience of sharing a motor home with seven other people
rather than the joy of singing.

There were occasional tire blowouts and breakdowns and times when the group’s funds ran so low there was no telling where
their next meal would come from. In addition, Fred was being far too generous with their cash. If a needy person crossed their
path, he would use a portion of the group’s dinner money to buy the guy a sandwich.

“God knows what we need.” Fred would smile at the others. “He’ll take care of us.”

Even though they had never gone without, Ashley was still bothered by Fred’s generosity. One
afternoon, three months into the tour, the group stopped at a small southern seaside town for an Italian dinner. Weeks had
passed since they’d eaten anything other than fast food, but the previous night’s offering had brought in enough that Fred
decided they could afford a sit-down dinner.

As the group approached the restaurant, they noticed a man dressed in tattered rags. His weathered face and matted hair were
covered with a layer of silt and dirt. He was sitting just outside the restaurant door, his hat in his hands.

“Bum!” Ashley whispered to herself. People like that were so disgusting. Then she had another thought.
Watch Fred invite him to dinner.

As the group drew closer to the man, Fred stopped and started a conversation with the man. Ashley was horrified. She drew
closer so she could hear what they were saying, and she was suddenly assaulted by a pungent smell. It was a mix of the man’s
body odor and the smell of musty alcohol on his breath. Stepping away, Ashley studied the man from a distance. It must have
been months since his last shower.
Disgusting,
she thought to herself.
The man has no pride in himself whatsoever!

In the course of three minutes, while the rest of the group stood in a cluster behind him, Fred managed to get the man’s story.
He’d been living on the streets for the past year and needed money for food. Fred smiled and Ashley knew what was coming.
Fred didn’t believe in giving people money for food. He believed in giving them food.

“I can’t give you any money,” he said, a smile playing across his face. “But you could be our guest at dinner tonight. Our
treat.”

The homeless man looked skeptical. “You wanna bring me the food out here?” he asked. It was obvious he couldn’t believe that
Fred might actually want a person like himself to eat with his group.

“No, of course not!” Fred waved toward the restaurant door, where the manager was watching them. “Come in! Eat with us.”

Ashley wanted to cover her face with a bag. What was Fred thinking? Letting them be seen at a sit-down restaurant with a shabby
old homeless man? The grizzly old guy stared at the members of the group and his eyes fell on Ashley. “Okay.” He looked back
at Fred. “Thanks.”

“What’s your name?” Fred asked as they moved inside.

“Gus.”

Ashley dropped to the back of the group and rolled her eyes in frustration. Now they’d have to smell this filthy man for the
next hour and no one would enjoy the meal. She shook her head and followed the others into the restaurant. Maybe she should
call home and find a way to pull out of the group. Nothing about the tour was working out like she’d hoped.

Once inside, the manager showed them to a
table near the back of a large private room. Ashley sat down first and waited for others to fill in around her. When everyone
had found a seat she was horrified to see that the place beside her was still empty. The homeless man still stood off to the
side, unsure of whether he should really join the group at a formal dinner table. He looked embarrassed as he scanned his
ragged and torn clothing.

“I’ll just go outside and wait,” he said suddenly. “You can bring me something out there if you want.”

Fred stood up and shook his head. “Absolutely not.” He pointed to the seat beside Ashley. “Sit there … we have plenty of room.”

Ashley’s eyes grew wide.
Great. Sit him by me.
She slid her chair a few inches from the place where Gus was sitting down. Anger and frustration swirled across her heart
and she bit her lip.
Some life-changing music tour this turned out to be, huh, God? I should’ve just stayed home.

As the homeless man beside her settled into his chair, a putrid aroma moved like a cloud over the place where Ashley sat.
The man smelled so bad, it’d be a miracle if she didn’t lose her appetite. Gritting her teeth, she determined to ignore him
and enjoy her meal. After all, it could be weeks before they might afford a nice dinner out.

When the waitress had taken their order, Gus looked at Fred and cleared his throat. “Where are you people from?” He barely
made eye contact before letting his gaze fall to his lap.

In spite of everything, Ashley found herself feeling almost sorry for him. The guy looked like he didn’t have an ounce of
self-esteem. She stared at him from the corner of her eye. Where did he spend his nights anyway? In an alley somewhere? How
awful would that be?

Ashley blinked back a wave of remorse. Oh, well. It was probably his own fault. Too much drinking or drugs. He
must’ve done something wrong. People don’t just wind up on the streets.

Fred smiled. “We’re a traveling Christian singing group. We call ourselves Alive.”

The homeless man’s eyes lit up. “A professional singing group? Really?”

“Yes.” Fred grinned at his wife. “We’re professional.”

Ashley pretended to study her silverware. Professional? How could he call them a professional singing group when they could
barely afford to eat? And what about their sleeping arrangements? The motor home they were staying in was a far cry from the
luxurious hotel suites Ashley had pictured before the trip.

“So you say you’re Christians, huh?” Gus asked. He lowered his eyebrows doubtfully. “Well, Christians, I have a few questions
for you.” The man waited until everyone, even Ashley, was watching him. “You people talk about how much God loves me. How
am I supposed to believe that? Look at me,
living on the streets. If God loves me why doesn’t he get me off the streets?”

Fred looked around at the group. When no one spoke up, he turned toward Gus.

“Well, Gus, God’s love doesn’t really show up in fine clothes and comfortable lifestyles.” He folded his arms, his words slow
and easy. “But I can prove God loves you.”

“Okay.” The man grunted. “Prove it.”

“Have you heard about Jesus?”

The man nodded.

“Jesus died for you, Gus, did you know that?” Fred cocked his head, his eyes shining with sincerity.

Ashley studied Fred, amazed at the man’s faith

“Jesus, huh?” Gus let loose a shaky sigh. “I’ve heard about that, but I guess it never really made much difference to me.”

At that moment, Rita began to speak. “If you were the only person in the whole world, Jesus still would have died for you.
He loves you that much.” She reached out and took Fred’s hand, her voice soft. “Of course it’s up to you, whether you want
to believe or not.”

Two of the other group members nodded in unison. “You know why He died on the cross, right?” one of them asked.

Gus shook his head. “Not really.”

As the conversation continued, Ashley forgot
Gus’s dirty condition and became deeply interested. She had never known anyone who understood so little about God. She was
a pastor’s daughter, after all. She took for granted that everyone had been exposed to the same type of upbringing she’d been
given. She turned in her chair so she could get a better look at Gus.

“Jesus died to pay the price for our sins,” Fred said simply. “Basically, because of Him you’re a free man, Gus.”

“A free man? I’ve always been free.”

“Not really,” Ashley cut in. The others looked at her in surprise as she turned to Gus again. “When we’re free in Christ,
our circumstances don’t really matter anymore. All that matters is that he’s with us, he loves us, and he’ll see us safely
home in the end.”

The moment Ashley finished speaking she realized what she’d just said.
Our circumstances don’t really matter anymore?
Was that the way she’d been feeling on this singing tour? The conversation around her grew dim as she stared at her lap.
She’d been silently complaining for weeks now, grumbling about the cramped quarters in the motor home and the other inconveniences
of living on the road.

The truth was she’d forgotten her mother’s words about going on the tour for all the right reasons—as a way of using her gift
of song to touch hearts for God. Instead it had been all about her. How comfortable
she was … how many people wanted to see her sing … how much money they raised in the process. Now this man sat beside her,
hungry for a kind of truth she had taken for granted since she was a kid. Tears stung her eyes and she closed them, ashamed
at herself.
Forgive me, God. What have I done? Judging people like this … this poor homeless man. Thinking I’m better than everyone else.
I’m so sorry, God. Really.

For the next thirty minutes the group members took turns sharing their personal stories with Gus, the reasons why they had
come to believe, and the certainty that God still heard their prayers and worked miracles among them.

“Miracles, huh?” There was a sudden twinkle in Gus’s eyes. “I believe in miracles, too.”

By the time dinner arrived, the weary old man seemed to understand. For the first time since they’d met him that evening,
hope played across his weathered face. Hope where only an hour before there had been none.

“Come with us,” Fred said as the group prepared to leave. “We’ll take you to the next town. There’s a big church there and
we’ll set you up with someone who can help you.”

“You’d do that? For me?” The corners of Gus’s mouth worked their way into a smile.

“Definitely.” Fred patted Gus on the back. “Come with us,”

Gus nodded but this time he glanced at a clock on the wall. “I need to use the facilities first.” He stood and took slow steps
toward a restroom nestled in the back of the room. The group waited a few minutes, and then some more. Finally Fred stood
up. “I’m going to make sure he’s all right. He might need help.”

The others got up at the same time and agreed to meet Fred and Gus out front of the restaurant. Outside, they chatted about
the dinner and the way God’s truth had touched Gus’s heart. After several minutes, they began checking their watches and staring
back inside the restaurant.

“What’s taking so long?” Ashley peered through the glass looking for a sign of Fred and Gus.

Rita was about to go back in after the two men when suddenly Fred darted out the front door, his face a mask of confusion.

“Did he come out this way?” Fred found Rita, his eyes searching hers. “I can’t find him anywhere.”

Rita shook her head. “We haven’t seen him. Did you check the other exits?”

“The manager said there’s an emergency exit in the back near the cook’s station. But not in the room where we were eating.
The only way out was the way we came in.”