BETH MOORE AT THE AIRPORT
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 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 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!"

Be Blessed!
Beth Moore
Come on over to our page!
www.eddieday.org

I got teary-eyed reading that...I believe that is so true. It is like
those times in our lives that we wonder why we are going through some of
the things that we are...it may be that God is needing to use us in a
certain way to help others.

god is good, thank you greeneyedlady i need that

that is not only inspiring but beautiful too. thanks for sharing

Thank you for sharing this. I don't know where I would be without
guidance. One thing is for sure I wouldn't be as happy as I am right
now.

C