The Hairbrush Story

HAIRBRUSH EXPERIENCE OF 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
up 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 leap into my throat, and my thoughts
spun like a top. Do I witness to the man or brush his hair?
No-brainier. 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. Long Locks. 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 and went around the chair to face
him. I got back down on my knees, put my hands on his knee 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,
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!'

Please share this wonderful story.


If your eye is good, your whole body will be full of light......... Mt. 6:22


By God's grace I am what I am...... 1 Corinthians 15:10


'Life isn't about how to survive the storm, but how to dance in the rain!'


This is a wonderful story. God does approach us often, we may not always see it.