You can find a Goodwill, a nonprofit charity-based secondhand shop, in almost every town, but there are only about 160 Goodwill Outlets (or “bins” as they’re often called) in the country. What’s the difference? The outlets take their own donated items along with Goodwill’s surplus or unsold inventory and sell them by weight. So, a $20 name-brand purse at Goodwill could be under a dollar at the bins. Each store is a little different, but my store brings out new shelves of housewares or bins of clothing every thirty minutes. With so many thrifters and resellers vying for the best items, it can be dangerous. Some confuse shopping with a contact sport, and many wear gloves to protect their hands from broken glass. But, there are some diamonds in the rough for sure, which is what makes the bins so addictive.
I’m an English teacher, so reselling is a side hustle and a hobby. I’m a kid again when I’m digging and finally find something to flip for a $15-$100 profit. To date, my favorite finds include a pair of Chinese foo dogs, a box full of 1960s Christmas pixies, and a gorgeous, old, hand-stitched Lone Star quilt. Considering the personal time and money I invest in reselling, my profit margin is laughable. For me, it’s more about the search and rescue–the wonder of finding a beautiful, useful, or nostalgic surprise, saving it from the compactor, and rehoming it.
During my last visit, as I waited for fresh shelves of housewares to roll out and watched others searching through piles of mostly trash, I remembered my most important and desperate search. As a depressed twentyone- year-old, I needed to find a reason to keep living. But, I wanted it to be a genuine reason. Nothing mattered more to me than the truth. Who was correct about human existence? Atheists? Christians? Islamists? Buddhists? Hinduists? Learning the basics of the most popular religions and philosophies and studying Scripture and apologetics tipped the scale in favor of Christianity. But it was the palpable, loving presence I felt during my intense prayers that eventually confirmed the reality of Christ. He lifted me from death’s trash heap, healed me, and gave me a new life with Him.
Those of us who know and love the Lord carry a burden of sadness for those who haven’t embraced Him. Sometimes I exhaust myself crying for my many lost loved ones. But, when I escape my sadness by thrifting, eating, or napping in excess, I’m also shutting out the Holy Spirit’s comfort. God wants us to feel compassion for the lost and share Him with them, yet He doesn’t intend for such outreach to eclipse our own peace and joy in Him.
Sadness transforms into hope when I pray for those who’ve yet to know Him. It used to anger me when I’d hear people take God’s name in vain or mock him. But these, too, are opportunities to share and pray. When one of my high school students takes God’s name in vain, I’ll sometimes say, “I’m sorry you feel that way about God. He’s my hero and my greatest friend.” Often, though, I simply pray quietly for them to hunger for the truth that will lead them into His arms.
My picker friends and I often find Jesus in the bins. Many of them believe he is merely a picture, a statue, or a cross to toss aside. But, those of us who love Him know that He is ultimately the only treasure worth seeking.