Seeking out the hidden things in Christ

Feb. 6, 2006

The Whipping

There was a school with a class of students that no teacher had been able to handle. Two or three teachers had been run off from this school in one year by the unruly students.

A young man, just out of college, heard about the class and applied to the school.

The principal asked the young man, "Do you know what you are asking for? No one else has been able to handle these students. You are just asking for a terrible beating."

After a few moments of silent prayer, the young man looked at the
principal and said, "Sir, with your consent I accept the challenge.
Just give me a trial basis."

The next morning the young man stood before the class. He said to the class, "Young people, I came here today to conduct school. But I realize I can't do it by myself. I must have your help."

One big boy, they called Big Tom, in the back of the room whispered to his buddies, "I won't need any help. I can lick that little bird all by myself."

The young teacher told the class that if they were to have school,
there would have to be some rules to go by. But he also added that he would allow the students to make up the rules and that he would list them on the blackboard.

This was certainly different, the students thought!

One young man suggested "NO STEALING."
Another one shouted "BE ON TIME FOR CLASS."

Pretty soon they had 10 rules listed on the board.

The teacher then asked the class what the punishment should be for breaking these rules? "The rules are no good unless they are enforced", he said.

Someone in the class suggested that if the rules were broken, they should receive 10 licks with a rod across their back with their coat off.

The teacher thought that this was pretty harsh, so he asked the class if they would stand by this punishment? The class agreed.

Everything went along pretty good for two or three days.

Then Big Tom came in one day very upset. He declared that someone had
stolen his lunch.

After talking with the students, they came to the conclusion that little Timmy had stolen Big Tom's lunch. Someone had seen little

Timmy with Big Tom's lunch!

The teacher called little Timmy up to the front of the classroom.
Little Timmy admitted he had taken Big Tom's lunch.

So the teacher asked him, "Do you know the punishment?"

Little Timmy nodded that he did.

"You must remove your coat," the teacher instructed. The little
fellow had come with a great big coat on. Little Timmy said to the
teacher,"I am guilty and I am willing to take my punishment, but
please don't make me take off my coat?"

The teacher reminded little Timmy of the rules and punishments and again told him he must remove his coat and take his punishment like a man.

The little fellow started to unbutton that old coat. As he did so, the
teacher saw he did not have a shirt on under the coat. And even worse, he saw a frail and bony frame hidden beneath that coat.

The teacher asked little Timmy why he had come to school without a shirt on?

Little Timmy replied, "My daddy's dead and my mother is very poor. I don't have but one shirt, and my mother is washing it today. I wore my big brother's coat so that I could keep warm."

That young teacher stood and looked at the frail back with the spine protruding against the skin, and his ribs sticking out. He wondered how he could lay a rod on that little back, and without even a shirt on. Still, he knew he must enforce the punishment or the children would not obey the rules. So he drew back to strike little Timmy. Just then Big Tom stood up and came down the aisle.

He asked, "Is there anything that says that I can't take little Timmy's whipping for him?"

The teacher thought about it and agreed. With that, Big Tom ripped his coat off and stooped, and stood over little Timmy at the desk.

Hesitatingly the teacher began to lay the rod on that big back. But
for some strange reason after only five licks that old rod just broke in half.

The young teacher buried his face in his hands and began to sob. He heard a commotion and looked up to find not even one dry eye in the classroom. Little Timmy had turned and grabbed Big Tom around the neck apologizing to him for stealing his lunch. Little Timmy begged Big Tom to forgive him. He told Big Tom that he would love him till the day he died for taking his whipping for him.

Aren't you glad that Jesus took our whipping for us? That He shed His precious blood on Calvary so that you and I can have eternal life in Glory with Him. We are unworthy of the price He paid for us, but aren't you glad He loves us that much?

This is a story everyone needs to know. So if you know anyone else who may be blessed by this story, please pass it on.

God bless you, and keep you safe. Most people's troubles come from too much time on their hands - and not enough on their knees.

For the Christian - Prayer is not an option but an opportunity.

"In prayer; expect setbacks, but refuse retreat."

Don't tell the Lord how big the problem is, tell the problem how Great the Lord is!

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Jan. 30, 2006

Beth Moore at the airport

Posted in LOL and touching stories

BETH MOORE AT THE AIRPORT

For those of you who don't know Beth Moore, she is an outstanding Bible teacher, writer of Bible studies, and is a married mother of two daughters. She is a member of First Baptist in Houston.

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 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!"

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About Me

Join us as we seek wisdom from the Word of God and use Christ as our cornerstone in all that we think, speak and do. I am a homeschooling mom of 3 children using the Weaver Curriculum for our Unit Study approach to learning. It is my humble prayer that you would be blessed by our musings in homeschool, life and family.