Ned,
As I read this I had chills all over.  What a wonderful story and testimony
for our Lord Jesus.
Thanks for sharing it.
Virgie and Hoshi
----- Original Message -----
From: "Ned Benton" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Monday, December 12, 2005 9:22 PM
Subject: Touching story about Beth Moore


>    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."