My cousin sent this to me and I just read it.  This really touched me. I
want to let Jesus be the boss!

Sent: Fri, 9 Dec 2005 07:51:09 -0600
Subject: Touching Story about Beth Moore
A friend sent this and I thought how true it is of the opportunities we miss
because
of the worries of what other people think. When in all reality we should
only be
concerned of what pleases our Lord.   Max
Beth Moore
Apr 20, 2005
Knoxville Airport -
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 other-wise. 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 Tim 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."