How has God spoken to YOU today?

This was on the http://Midlife.com
website today

Don’t know why but I felt the need to post it to
my blog

It may speak to someone out there –

not sure who but I’m not going to argue with God
on this

so this Ponderance is being posted for Whoever’s
benefit it may touch

 

 

 

Waiting to board the plane: I had the Bible on my lap and
was very intent upon what I was doing. I’d had a marvelous morning with the
Lord.

I
say that because I want to tell you it is a scary thing to have the Spirit of
God really working in you.

You
could end up doing some things you never would have done otherwise. Life in the
Spirit can be dangerous for a thousand reasons not the least of which is your
ego…

I
tried to keep from staring but he was such a strange sight. Humped over in a
wheelchair, he was skin and bones, dressed in clothes that obviously fit when
he was at least twenty pounds heavier. His knees protruded from his trousers,
and his shoulders looked like the coat hanger was still in his shirt. His hand
s looked like tangled masses of veins and bones. The strangest part of him was
his hair and nails. Stringy gray hair hung well over his shoulders and down
part of his back. His fingernails were long. Clean, but strangely out of place
on an old man.

I
looked down at my Bible as fast as I could, discomfort burning my face. As I
tried to imagine what his story might have been, I found myself wondering if
I’d just had a Howard Hughes sighting.

Then,
I remembered that Howard Hughes was dead. So this man in the airport… an
impersonator maybe?

Was
a camera on us somewhere?….

There I sat trying to concentrate on the Word to keep from
being concerned about a thin slice of humanity served on a wheelchair only a
few seats from me. All the while my heart was growing more and more overwhelmed
with a feeling for him. Let’s admit it. Curiosity is a heap more comfortable
than true concern, and suddenly I was awash with aching emotion for this
bizarre-looking old man.

I
had walked with God long enough to see the handwriting on the wall. I’ve learned
that when I begin to feel what God feels, something so contrary to my natural
feelings, something dramatic is bound to happen. And it may be embarrassing. I
immediately began to resist because I could feel God working on my spirit and I
started arguing with God in my mind.

"Oh
no, God please no." I looked up at the ceiling as if I could stare
straight through it into heaven and said, "Don’t make me witness to this
man. Not right here and now. Please. I’ll do anything. Put me on the same
plane, but don’t make me get up here and witness to this man in front of this
gawking audience. Please, Lord! "…

There
I sat in the blue vinyl chair begging His Highness, "Please don’t make me
witness to this man. Not now. I’ll do it on the plane."

Then
I heard it…"I don’t want you to witness to him. I want you to brush his
hair. "

The
words were so clear, my heart leapt into my throat, and my thoughts spun like a
top. Do I witness to the man or brush his hair? No brainer. I looked straight
back up at the ceiling and said, "God, as I live and breathe, I want you
to know I am ready to witness to this man. I’m on this Lord. I’m you’re girl!
You’ve never seen a woman witness to a man faster in your life. What difference
does it make if his hair is a mess if he is not redeemed? I am on him. I am
going to witness to this man."

Again
as clearly as I’ve ever heard an audible word, God seemed to write this
statement across the wall of my mind. "That is not what I said, Beth. I
don’t want you to witness to him. I want you to go brush his hair. "

I
looked up at God and quipped, "I don’t have a hairbrush. It’s in my
suitcase on the plane, How am I supposed to brush his hair without a hairbrush?
"…

God
was so insistent that I almost involuntarily began to walk toward him as these
thoughts came to me from God’s word: "I will thoroughly furnish you unto
all good works." (2 Tim 3:17) I stumbled over to the wheelchair thinking I
could use one myself. Even as I retell this story my pulse quickens and I feel
those same butterflies.

I
knelt down in front of the man, and asked as demurely as possible, "Sir, May
I have the pleasure of brushing your hair? "

He
looked back at me and said, "What did you say?"

"May
I have the pleasure of brushing your hair? To which he responded in volume ten,
"Little lady, if you expect me to hear you, you’re going to have to talk
louder than that. At this point, I took a deep breath and blurted out,
"SIR, MAY I HAVE THE PLEASURE OF BRUSHING YOUR HAIR? "

At
which point every eye in the place darted right at me. I was the only thing in
the room looking more peculiar than old Mr. Longlocks. Face crimson and
forehead breaking out in a sweat, I watched him look up at me with absolute
shock on his face, and say, "If you really want to. "

Are
you kidding? OF course I didn’t want to. But God didn’t seem interested in my
personal preference right about then. He pressed on my heart until I could
utter the words, "Yes, sir, I would be pleased. But I have one little
problem. I don’t have a hairbrush. "

"I
have one in my bag," he responded. I went around to the back of that wheelchair
r, and I got on my hands and knees and unzipped the stranger’s old carry-on
hardly believing what I was doing. I stood up and started brushing the old
man’s hair. It was perfectly clean, but it was tangled and matted. I don’t do
many things well, but I must admit I’ve had notable experience untangling
knotted hair mothering two little girls.

Like
I’d done with either Amanda or Melissa in such a condition, I began brushing at
the very bottom of the strands, remembering to take my time not to pull. A
miraculous thing happened to me as I started brushing that old man’s hair.
Everybody else in the room disappeared. There was no one alive for those
moments except that old man and me. I brushed and I brushed and I brushed until
every tangle was out of that hair.

I
know this sounds so strange but I’ve never felt that kind of love for another
soul in my entire life. I believe with all my heart, I – for that few minutes –
felt a portion of the very love of God. That He had overtaken my heart for a
little while like someone renting a room and making Himself at home for a short
while. The emotions were so strong and so pure that I knew they had to be
God’s.

His
hair was finally as soft and smooth as an infant’s. I slipped the brush back in
the bag, went around the chair to face him. I got back down on my knees, put my
hands on his knees, and said, "Sir, do you know my Jesus? "

He
said, "Yes, I do." Well, that figures, I thought. He explained ,
"I’ve known Him since I married my bride."

"She
wouldn’t marry me until I got to know the Savior." He said, "You see,
the problem is, I haven’t seen my bride in months. I’ve had open-heart surgery,
and she’s been too ill to come see me. I was sitting here thinking to myself.
What a mess I must be for my bride. "

Only
God knows how often He allows us to be part of a divine moment when we’re
completely unaware of the significance. This, on the other hand, was one of
those rare encounters when I knew God had intervened in details only He could
have known. It was a God moment, and I’ll never forget it. Our time came to
board, and we were not on the same plane. I was deeply ashamed of how I’d acted
earlier and would have been so proud to have accompanied him on that aircraft.

I
still had a few minutes, and as I gathered my things to board, the airline
hostess returned from the corridor, tears streaming down her cheeks. She said,
"That old man’s sitting on the plane, sobbing. Why did you do that? What
made you do that? "

I
said, "Do you know Jesus? He can be the bossiest thing!" And we got
to share. I learned something about God that day. He knows if you’re exhausted
because you’re hungry, you’re serving in the wrong place or it is time to move
on but you feel too responsible to budge. He knows if you’re hurting or feeling
rejected. He knows if you’re sick or drowning under a wave of temptation. Or He
knows if you just need your hair brushed. He sees you as an individual. Tell
Him your need!

I
got on my own flight, sobs choking my throat, wondering how many opportunities
just like that one had I missed along the way… all because I didn’t want
people to think I was strange. God didn’t send me to that old man. He sent that
old man to me.

John
1:14 "The Word became flesh and
made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and
Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth."

Beth
Moore
Apr 20, 2005
Knoxville Airport

 

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