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Very Moving Story
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Old 09-09-2005, 01:17 PM
motor (deceased) motor (deceased) is offline
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Default Very Moving Story

> [6] Does Jesus Care?
>
> by Beth Moore
>
> (A little long but well, well worth the read.)
>
> Knoxville airport all waiting to board planes: 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 hands
> looked like tangled masses of veins and bones. The
> strangest part of him was his hair and nails. Stringy
> grey 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 reading somewhere that he 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 your 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 finish you unto all
> good works" (2 Tim 3:7). 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, 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.
>
> 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 is a well-known women's Bible teacher based
> in Houston, Texas. She has written several books and
> does videos of Bible teaching from around the world.
>
> -- Submitted by Joy Innes who has heard Beth
> tell her story in person
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