I used to work as a pizza delivery driver. It wasn’t safe, it wasn’t easy, but it left me with a lot of crazy stories.

Like the time I delivered pizza to a cult gathering place.

My boss pulled me aside to complain about the phone call. “They were very particular,” she said. “She kept telling me over and over again how we couldn’t deliver it to the front door. You have to go around the back to the alley and go in through that door. I told her I understood, but she went over it again.”

So…at this point, I didn’t know it was a cult gathering place. 

I nodded and told my boss not to worry about it. I’d get them their pizza.

I drove to the address on the printed ticket, using Google maps to bring me to the front entrance. It was a “temple” of some sort. The name rang some bells in my head and I felt antsy as I drove around to the back alley.

Luckily it was still daylight, but I felt exposed as I parked my car and emerged carrying two insulated pizza bags, each with multiple pizza boxes inside. I ran up metal steps leading to the metal door on the backside of the building. I started praying. Please, let this be quick and easy and protect me, God.

No one else was in the alley and the metal stairway led to two doors. I looked at both. One had a sign, but it wasn’t very helpful, because it just showed that the building was a complex with multiple things inside without listing the business names.

I knocked on the closest door and waited. 

No one came. So I tried knocking on the other door, even though when I drove by the front of the building, it seemed that another business inhabited that part of the building.

I knocked harder on the first door. For no obvious reason, I was getting the creeps. God, should I just go inside?

I felt the go-ahead, so I pressed the metal bar to open the door and took a step inside. 

I was in a vestibule with another door in a glass wall to my left. I pushed through the second door into a hallway with cheap linoleum and bare white walls. 

“Hello? Pizza delivery!” I called out, hoping to keep my voice steady.

A man came down the hallway, wearing khakis and a button-up shirt. I was ushered into a room with folding tables and chairs in rows, just like for a monthly dinner at my church (which is not a cult, thank Jesus).

Three women bustled around the tables, all wearing the same outfit. Each wore a flowing flowery blue and purple skirt and a black long-sleeve shirt. Two were around my grandma’s age and one was younger.

“You ordered a pizza, right?” I asked, feeling small. Stay calm.

They affirmed it, I read off their order, and they helped me unload the pizzas onto a table.

I restrapped the velcro on the pizza bags while they debated how much to tip me. “Is ten good?” One woman asked the woman in charge, holding the cash in her hand.

The woman in charge looked me over. I wore jeans, a white Polaroid jacket, and the Crenos uniform hat over my frizzy bun. She made eye contact. “She’s cute, but not that cute. Give her seven.”

They pressed the cash in my hands with big smiles.

I held a polite smile frozen on my face. “Thank you.” I booked it to my car, feeling exposed.

In every job where I’ve been paid tips, I’ve felt judged by my appearance. In high school, I wore pigtail braids to work a cashier shift with the hope that customers would remember I was young and offer some grace instead of their usual demanding impatience.

This woman from a cult hit me in a vulnerable spot (which is why I really don’t recommend visiting cult gathering places, in case you’re wondering). Her words haunted me for weeks.

But God worked in my life through it. Because it’s a lie that your looks determine what you deserve and it’s a burden to feel burning self-consciousness every time you’re at work.

That exchange brought these ideas to the surface in my life. And God started rewiring my brain.

Even an active cult member saying something hurtful turned into something beautiful for my good under his hands. God gets the greater glory. 

Romans 8:28 is true, my friend.

This week, share a story of how God’s worked all things together for good in your life. Tell a friend in real life or put it in the comments or use my contact form. It’s too easy to forget how great he is–encourage yourself and the people around you by talking about it!