God in the Grocery Store
You know the Holy Spirit is up to something when He follows you into the grocery store.
I didn’t go there to be holy. I went because we were out of milk. And bread. And at least three other things I was definitely going to forget the moment I walked through the automatic doors. It was a Tuesday—the kind of day that feels aggressively ordinary. No feast day, no retreat, no big spiritual moment on the calendar.
Just me, a cart with a wobbly wheel, and a mental list I was already losing.
Finding God in the grocery aisle
I turned into the cereal aisle with purpose. This was a mission: get in, get out, get home. That’s when I saw her.
She was standing in front of the wall of cereal boxes, holding one in each hand like she was weighing more than just sugar content. She looked tired—not “I stayed up too late” tired, but “life has been heavy for a long time” tired. The kind that settles into your shoulders and doesn’t let go.
She noticed me behind her and jumped a little, apologizing as she tried to move out of the way.
“I’m sorry, I’m in your way.”
And right there, I had a choice.
I could do what’s easy: polite smile, quick “No worries,” slide past, and get on with my day.
Or I could do what the Holy Spirit was whispering:
“Slow down. Listen.”
When the Holy Spirit interrupts your schedule
Here’s the thing we don’t like to admit: The Holy Spirit almost never shows up when it’s convenient.
He doesn’t wait until we’re sitting in a quiet chapel with a Bible open and a candle lit. He shows up in traffic. In waiting rooms. In grocery aisles. In the exact moments when we feel like we don’t have time for anyone else’s story.
I felt that nudge—the one that says, This is one of those moments. Don’t miss it.
So instead of squeezing past, I stopped.
“You’re not in my way,” I said. “Take your time. I’m not in a rush.”
(Which, to be clear, was only half true. I did have things to do. But sometimes discipleship means letting your to‑do list lose for a minute.)
She looked at me, really looked, like she was checking to see if I meant it. Then something in her face softened.
And she started talking.
The ministry of just standing there
She didn’t pour out her whole life story. There were no tears in the cereal aisle. No dramatic conversion moment. But in about thirty seconds, I learned more than I expected.
Her husband had died not long ago. She was still getting used to shopping for one. She wasn’t sure what to buy anymore. Everything felt different. Even cereal.
I didn’t have a speech ready. I didn’t have a Bible verse locked and loaded. I just listened.
I nodded. I smiled. I let her finish her sentences without rushing them.
And in that tiny, awkward, holy space between the Cheerios and the granola, something happened:
She didn’t look so alone anymore.
When she finally said, “Thank you,” it wasn’t for advice. It was for presence.
And that’s when the Gospel hit me right between the eyes.
“Whatever you did for the least of these…”
Jesus says in Matthew 25:
“Whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.”
We usually hear that and think of big things: feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick. And yes, those matter deeply.
But what if it also includes this?
Whatever you did for the woman in aisle seven who just needed someone to see her…
Whatever you did for the man at the checkout who looks like he hasn’t heard his own name spoken kindly in weeks…
Whatever you did for the tired mom juggling three kids and a cart full of groceries…
What if Jesus is saying:
“When you stopped and listened to them, you were stopping and listening to Me.”
That’s evangelization too.
Not just preaching. Not just teaching. Not just content and microphones and platforms.
Evangelization is presence. Evangelization is attention. Evangelization is saying with your time, your eyes, your posture:
“You matter. Right now. Right here.”
The elephant in the aisle
Let’s talk about the elephant in the room—or in this case, the elephant in the grocery aisle:
It is easier to walk away.
It is easier to pretend we don’t see. It is easier to stay in our heads, in our phones, in our hurry.
We’ve all done it.
We’ve all seen someone struggling and thought, Someone should help them, while quietly hoping that “someone” is not us.
But if we’re going to call ourselves disciples… If I’m going to dare to teach, write, speak, and invite others to follow Jesus… Then I can’t skip the hard, awkward, inconvenient moments where love actually costs me something.
Because that’s where the Gospel stops being theory and becomes flesh.
Listening as an act of evangelization
Sometimes the Holy Spirit doesn’t ask us to say more. He asks us to shut up and listen.
To let someone else’s story breathe. To let their pain exist without trying to fix it in under a minute. To let our presence be the sermon.
Listening is not passive. Listening is not weak. Listening is not “doing nothing.”
Listening is saying:
“You are worth my time.”
“Your story matters.”
“You are not invisible.”
And in a world where people feel more unseen than ever, that might be the loudest proclamation of the Gospel we can make.
Holiness in aisle seven
The grocery store didn’t turn into a cathedral that day. No choir started singing. No spotlight from heaven hit the cereal.
But something sacred happened.
A woman who felt alone was reminded—if only for a moment—that she wasn’t. A man with a wobbly cart remembered that discipleship doesn’t wait for perfect conditions. And somewhere in the middle of that ordinary Tuesday, Jesus kept His promise:
“I am with you always.”
Even here. Even now. Even in aisle seven.
I actually wrote another reflection about a moment in a grocery store that surprised me with grace — you can read that one here.
So the next time you’re out running errands and you feel that little nudge—that inconvenient, holy whisper that says, “Slow down. Listen.”—don’t brush it off.
That might not just be a person in front of you.
That might be Christ, standing there in disguise, waiting to see if you recognize Him.
And what you do next… Well, that’s where the Gospel gets real.