JOSHUA TIME 455

Beth Moore]
This is just too good not to pass on!!!For those of you who don't know Beth Moore, she is anoutstanding Bible teacher, writer of Bible Studies, and amarried mother of 2 daughters. She is a member of FirstBaptist, Houston.Beth MooreApr 20, 2005Knoxville Airport - Waiting to board the plane: I had the Bible on my lap and wasvery intent upon what I was doing. I'd had a marvelousmorning with the Lord. I say that because I want to tell youit is a scary thing to have the Spirit of God really workingin you. You could end up doing some things you never wouldhave done otherwise. Life in the Spirit can be dangerous fora thousand reasons not the least of which is your ego... Itried to keep from staring but he was such a strange sight.Humped over in a wheelchair, he was skin and bones, dressedin clothes that obviously fit when he was at least twentypounds heavier. His knees protruded from his trousers, andhis shoulders looked like the coat hanger was still in hisshirt.His hands looked like tangled masses of veins and bones. Thestrangest part of him was his hair and nails. Stringy gray hairhung well over his shoulders and down part of his back. Hisfingernails were long. Clean, but strangely out of place on anold man. I looked down at my Bible as fast as I could, discomfortburning my face. As I tried to imagine what his story mighthave been, I found myself wondering if I'd just had a HowardHughes sighting. Then, I remembered that he was dead. Sothis man in the airport... animpersonator maybe? Was a camera on us somewhere?.... There I sat trying to concentrate on the Word to keep frombeing concerned about a thin slice of humanity served on awheelchair only a few seats from me. All the while my heartwas growingmore and more overwhelmed with a feeling for him. Let's admitit. Curiosity is a heap more comfortable than true concern, andsuddenly I was awash with aching emotion for thisbizarre-looking old man. I had walked with God long enough to see the handwriting onthe wall. I've learned that whenI begin to feel what God feels, something so contrary to mynatural feelings, something dramatic is bound to happen. And itmay be embarrassing. I immediately began to resist because Icould feel God working on my spirit and I started arguing withGod in my mind. "Oh no, God please no." I looked up at the ceiling as if Icould stare straight through it into heaven and said, "Don'tmake me witness to this man. Not right here and now. Please.' I'll do anything. Put me on the same plane, but don't makeme get up here and witness to this man in front of thisgawking audience. Please, Lord!"... There I sat in the bluevinyl chair begging His Highness, "Please don't make mewitness to this man. Not now. I'll do it on the plane." ThenI heard it..."I don't want you to witness to him. I want youto brush his hair." The words were so clear, my heart leaptinto my throat, and my thoughts spun like a top. Do I witnessto the man or brush his hair? No brainer. I looked straightback 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 onthisLord. I'm you're girl! You've never seen a woman witness to aman faster in your life. What difference does it make if hishair is a mess if he is not redeemed? I am on him. I am goingto witness to this man." Again as clearly as I've ever heard an audible word, Godseemed to write his statement across the wall of my mind."That is not what I said, Beth. I don't want you to witnessto him. I want you to go brush his hair." I looked up at Godand quipped, "I don't have a hairbrush. It's in my suitcaseon the plane, How am I supposed to brush his hair without ahairbrush?"... God was so insistent that I almostinvoluntarily began to walk toward him as these thoughts cameto me from God's word: "I will thoroughly furnish you untoall good works." (2 Tim 3:17) I stumbled over to thewheelchair thinking I could use one myself. Even as I retellthis story my pulsequickens and I feel those same butterflies. I knelt down in front of the man, and asked as demurely aspossible, "Sir, may I have the pleasure of brushing yourhair?" He looked back at me and said, "What did you say?" "May I have the pleasure of brushing your hair? To which heresponded in volume ten, "Little lady, if you expect me tohear you, you're going to have to talk louder than that. Atthis 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. Iwas the only thing in the room looking more peculiar than oldMr. Longlocks. Face crimson and forehead breaking out in asweat, I watched him look up at me with absolute shock on hisface, and say, "If you really want to." Are you kidding? OFcourse I didn't want to. But God didn't seem interested in mypersonal preference right about then. He pressed on my heartuntil I could utter the words, "Yes, sir, I would be pleased.But I have one little problem. I don't have a hairbrush." "Ihave one in my bag," he responded. I went around to the backof that wheelchair, and I got on my hands and knees andunzipped the stranger's old carry-on hardly believing what Iwas doing. I stood up and started brushing the old man'shair. It was perfectly clean, but it was tangled and matted.I don't do many things well, but I must admit I've hadnotable experience untangling knotted hair mothering twolittle girls. Like I'd done with either Amanda or Melissa insuch a condition, I began brushing at the very bottom of thestrands, remembering to take my time not to pull. Amiraculous thing happened to me as I started brushing thatold man's hair. Everybody else in the room disappeared. Therewas no one alive for those moments except that old man andme. I brushed and I brushed and I brushed until every tanglewas out of that hair. I know this sounds so strange but I'venever felt that kind of love for another soul in my entirelife. I believe with all my heart, for that few minutes -felt a portion of the very love of God. That He had overtakenmy heart for a little while like someone renting a room andmaking Himself at home for a short while. The emotions wereso strong and so pure that I knew they had to be God's. Hishair was finally as soft and smooth as an infant's. I slippedthe 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, andsaid, "Sir, do you know my Jesus?" He said, "Yes, I do."Well, that figures, I thought. He explained , "I've known Himsince I married my bride." "She wouldn't marry me until I gotto 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 herethinking to myself. What a mess I must be for my bride." Only God knows how often He allows us to be part of a divinemoment when we're completely unaware of the significance.This, on the other hand, was one of those rare encounterswhen I knew God had intervened in details only He could haveknown. It was a God moment, and I'll never forget it. Ourtime came to board, and we were not on the same plane. I wasdeeply ashamed ofhow I'd acted earlier and would have been so proud to haveaccompanied him on that aircraft. I still had a few minutes, and as I gathered my things toboard, the airline hostess returned fromthe corridor, tears streaming down her cheeks.She said, "That old man's sitting on the plane, sobbing. Whydid 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'reserving in the wrong place or it is time to move on but youfeel too responsible to budge. He knows if you're hurting orfeeling rejected. He knows if you're sick or drowning under awave of temptation.Or He knows if you just need your hair brushed. He sees you asan individual. Tell Him your need! I got on my own flight, sobs choking my throat, wondering howmany opportunities just like that one had I missed along theway... all because I didn't want people to think I wasstrange. God didn't send me to that old man. He sent that oldman to me. John 1:14 "The Word became flesh and made his dwelling amongus. We have seen his glory,the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, fullof grace and truth."