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<DIV>A friend often sends me notes like these. I thought you all needed a
chance to read this one.</DIV>
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<P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 13.5pt"><FONT face=Arial><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">Knoxville</SPAN></FONT><FONT face=Arial><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"> </SPAN></FONT><FONT face=Arial><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">Airport</SPAN></FONT><FONT face=Arial><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"> - 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. <BR><BR>I say that because I want to tell you it is a scary
thing to have the Spirit of God really working in you. <BR><BR>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...
<BR><BR>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. <BR><BR>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. <BR><BR>Then, I remembered reading somewhere that he was
dead. So this man in the airport... an impersonator maybe? Was a camera on us
somewhere?.... <BR><BR>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 conce! rn, and suddenly I was awash with aching emotion
for this bizarre-looking old man. <BR><BR>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. <BR><BR>"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. '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!"... <BR><BR>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." <BR><BR>Then I heard it..."I don't want you to
witness to him. I ! want you to brush his hair." <BR><BR>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." <BR><BR>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." <BR><BR>I looked up at God and quipped, "I don't have a
hairbrush. It's in my suitcase on the plane, How am I suppose to brush his
hair without a hairbrush?"... <BR><BR>God was so insistent that I almost
involuntarily began to walk to! ward 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.
<BR><BR>I knelt down in front of the man, and asked as demurely as possible,
"Sir, may I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?" <BR><BR>He looked back
at me and said, "What did you say?" <BR><BR>"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?" <BR><BR>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. <BR><BR>Face crimson and forehead breaking out in a sweat, I
watched him look up at me with absolute sho! ck on his face, and say, "If you
really want to." <BR><BR>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." <BR><BR>"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. <BR><BR>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. E! verybody 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. <BR><BR>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. <BR><BR>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?" <BR><BR>He said, "Yes, I do." Well, that
figures. He explained, "I've known Him since I married my bride." <BR><BR>"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." <BR><BR>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. <BR><BR>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?" <BR><BR>I said, "Do you know Jesus? He can be the b! ossiest 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! <BR><BR>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.
<BR><BR><BR>John </SPAN></FONT><FONT face=Arial><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">1:14</SPAN></FONT><FONT face=Arial><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"> "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." <BR><BR><BR>By Beth Moore In "Further
Still" </SPAN></FONT><A
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