For those of you who do not know Beth Moore, she is an
outstanding Bible teacher, writer of Bible studies, and is a
married mother of two daughters.
This is one of her experiences:
April 20, 2005 , at the Airport in Knoxville, 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
this 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, 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 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 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 w orks."
(2 Timothy 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, 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 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 and 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, 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."
Life shouldn't be a journey to the grave with the intention of
arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather,
to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and
loudly shouting, "Wow! What a ride! Thank You, Lord!"
