Smoothies and God

I was a pretty obnoxious kid when I was young (now I guess I'm just an obnoxious adult!). But last night took the cake. My son is in a musical at his high school and my wife and I are doing the obligatory work in concessions. We're in charge of the smoothie machine. This little kid comes up and helps himself to a straw(s). Then he asks for a napkin. By this time, my wife is curious and asks what he needs it for. Of course, he doesn't answer. But I find out the reason. He and his buddy are shooting spit wads at each other. The stuff is all over the place where they have adequately moistened it in their mouths and then shot it at each other through the straw. I admit, I'm getting old and cranky. Not necessarily in that order. I saw what they were doing and had pity on the poor maintenance guys who work there. "Who's going to clean that up?" I asked. They looked at me and said, "Oh, we'll clean it up." Now I didn't fall off the turnip truck yesterday. But boy, did I scare them.
Next the boy comes to the machine and asks for a free smoothie. We're selling these things for $2 each, we're paying for the mix personally and we're trying to make money for the drama department. "C'mon! Why can't I have one." He was a persistent little buggar. He left and came back with a $5 bill. Now we're talking. I sold him one and his friend wanted one, so out of his generosity he bought two. He offered to keep his $5 for my generosity of making him two smoothies. But once again, I'm too perceptive and grabbed the $5 and gave him his $1 of change.
The same little boy goes to the table where all the brownies, cookies, etc. are. These treats are only 50 cents. He demands a free treat. Now I know he has at least a dollar. The workers politely decline. He then says, "I know you have a play going on and I'll yell." Our workers were much more nice than I would have been.
Then he comes back to my table a little while later and asks for a free refill. By this time this kid is really getting on my nerves. "Please?" "No." "Please?" "No." "Please?" "Where's your mother?" "I don't know." He finally walks away. Then he comes back and asks again. "I want to get one for my mother. So I'll get it and take it to her." Once again, I didn't fall off the turnip truck yesterday. This time I said, "Until I have my grubby hands on two dollars, you're not gettin' anything." My wife said, "You need to go now." And he did need to go. He was bothering us and he was hurting business. And he wasn't going to get anything. In fact, I told him the more he pleaded, the harder my heart got.
"While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." Yes, you heard it right. While I was an obnoxious, persistent, rude, boring jerk, Christ died for me. When I kept pleading for more, just like this little boy, Christ gave.
I still wouldn't give the boy a smoothie for free. But he helped me to learn a lesson about God. He didn't wait until I got it right. He overlooked my boorish ways. And he loved me and gave and gave and gave. Wow! That makes my day. I hope it does yours, too. JW