Today we went shopping for back-to-school supplies, a simple errand, or so we thought. We walked into one of those big-name stores, found everything we needed, and headed to checkout. The cashier we got was warm and friendly. Her spirit was kind. You could tell she was doing her best.
But right in front of us, something happened that I haven’t been able to shake off. As she scanned our items, she struggled with removing a security sensor from one of the backpacks we were purchasing. She asked the manager, who just so happened to be standing nearby, for help. Instead of stepping in with grace or patience, he snapped at her with a sharp, dismissive tone: “I’ll do it right now.”
He got the backpack from her and told her to finish checking us out. She could not do that because she hadn’t scanned the backpack. He finally got the sensor out and then, right in front of us, he told her:“Next time, make sure you scan it first.” No gentleness. No professionalism. No compassion. Just a public scolding meant to make her feel small.
I looked at her. She looked back at me. And in that quick moment, I smiled, trying to offer silent reassurance, but honestly, it felt like not enough. My husband was with me, and I knew he felt it, too. You could just feel that tension in the air, that moment where someone needed to speak up, and no one did.
When we got to the car, I brought it up. I said, “That guy was so rude.” My husband responded, “Next time we should say something.” At first, I thought he meant confronting the manager. But he didn’t. He meant saying something to her, to the girl who was publicly belittled and quietly hurting. Something like, “Keep your head up, you’re doing a great job,” or “Don’t let how someone else treats you change your spirit, God sees you.” And instantly, my heart sank. Because I knew God had nudged me. I felt the conviction.
That moment was not random. That girl wasn’t just a cashier. That moment wasn’t just awkward, it was an assignment. But I let it pass. I’ve thought about it all day. How I stayed quiet when God was asking me to speak. How the Holy Spirit had stirred something in both me and my husband, and we ignored it. Not out of rebellion, but out of hesitation. We didn’t want to make it awkward. We weren’t sure what to say. We were afraid to make a scene.
But what if my words would’ve been the one reminder she needed that day that God sees her?What if my small act of encouragement would’ve whispered louder than the manager’s rudeness?What if that moment was meant to plant a seed of hope in her heart, that even when people mistreat you, God’s people show up with love? I don’t want to miss another moment like that.
So I’m writing this not to dwell in guilt, but to share a lesson I’m taking to heart: When the Holy Spirit nudges you, don’t ignore it. Even if your voice shakes, even if you feel unsure, say the thing. Speak life. Be the encourager. Be the one who makes someone feel seen and uplifted. You don’t have to confront the negativity directly, but you do have the power to pour light into the darkness.
If you ever witness someone being mistreated or discouraged, don’t stay quiet. You may be the very vessel God wants to use in that moment to show His love. You may be the answer to someone’s silent prayer: “God, do You even see me?” Let them know He does. Through your words. Through your kindness. Through your obedience. Next time… I’ll speak. And I pray you will too.
Holy mess 