At the Airport with Beth Moore

Discussion in 'General Conversation' started by TDawgNOk, May 8, 2006.

  1. TDawgNOk

    TDawgNOk Gathering Monitor (Instigator)

    Messages:
    3,365
    State:
    Tulsa, Oklahoma
    How many times have we been Beth as in the story below. I hope each of us is so touched that we all will listen to the prodding of our Lord.





    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 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 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
    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 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 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."

    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!"
     
  2. NCCatter

    NCCatter Member

    Messages:
    462
    State:
    North Carolina
    Great story Tony!
    I wish I could have that kind of determination to please God whenever I was commanded to do so.
     

  3. Cheryl

    Cheryl Well-Known Member

    Messages:
    5,010
    State:
    TN

    Me too, Tony! I am humbled by the story. Thanks for refreshing it in my mind.:smile2:
     
  4. olefin

    olefin New Member

    Messages:
    3,908
    State:
    Texas
    Tony, that is great. I read it over a couple times, it is touching.