[Ohio-Communities-of-Faith] FW: God works in myserious ways
mmoore11 at kent.edu
mmoore11 at kent.edu
Fri Nov 19 17:51:03 UTC 2021
From: Larry Perry <larryperry at performancepress.ccsend.com> On Behalf Of Larry Perry
Sent: Friday, November 19, 2021 08:11
To: mmoore11 at kent.edu
Subject: EXT: God works in myserious ways
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Letter from Larry
Friday
November 19, 2021
Good Friday Morning Everyone:
Unfortunate things happen to people all through life. Generally
it makes on stronger as a result. along those lines here is your
for today.
It is a little long, but worth the read.
GOD WORKS IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS
It was an unusually cold day for the month of May. Spring had
arrived and everything was alive with color. But a cold front from
the North had brought winter's chill back to Indiana.
I sat, with two friends, in the picture window of a quaint
restaurant just off the corner of the towns square. The food and
the company were both especially good that day.
As we talked, my attention was drawn outside, across the street.
There, walking into town, was a man who appeared to be carrying
all his worldly goods on his back. He was carrying, a well worn
sign that read, "I will work for food." My heart sank. I brought
him to the attention of my friends and noticed that others around
us had stopped eating to focus on him.
Heads moved in a mixture of sadness and disbelief. We continued
with our meal, but his image lingered in my mind. We finished our
meal and went our separate ways.
I had errands to do and quickly set out to accomplish them.
I glanced toward the town square, looking somewhat halfheartedly
for the strange visitor.
I was fearful, knowing that seeing him again would call for some
response. I drove through town and saw nothing of him. I made some
purchases at a store and got back in my car.
Deep within me, the Spirit of God kept speaking to me: "Don't
go back to the office until you've at least driven once more
around the square."
And so, with some hesitancy, I headed back into town. As I turned
the square's third corner. I saw him. He was standing on the steps of
the storefront church, going through his sack. I stopped and looked,
feeling both compelled to speak to him, yet wanting to drive on.
The empty parking space on the corner seemed to be a sign from
God: an invitation to park. I pulled in, got out and approached the
town's newest visitor.
"Looking for the pastor?" I asked.
"Not really," he replied, "just resting."
"Have you eaten today?"
"Oh, I ate something early this morning."
"Would you like to have lunch with me?"
"Do you have some work I could do for you?"
"No work," I replied. "I commute here to work from the city,
but I would like to take you to lunch."
"Sure," he replied with a smile.
As he began to gather his things. I asked some surface questions.
"Where you headed?"
"St. Louis."
"Where you from?"
"Oh, all over; mostly Florida."
"How long you been walking?"
"Fourteen years," came the reply.
I knew I had met someone unusual. We sat across from each other
in the same restaurant I had left earlier. His face was weathered
slightly beyond his 38 years.
His eyes were dark yet clear, and he spoke with an eloquence
and articulation that was startling. He removed his jacket to reveal a
bright red T-shirt that said, "Jesus is The Never Ending Story."
Then Daniel's story began to unfold. He had seen rough times
early in life. He'd made some wrong choices and reaped the
consequences.
Fourteen years earlier, while backpacking across the country,
he had stopped on the beach in Daytona.
He tried to hire on with some men who were putting up a large
tent and some equipment. A concert, he thought. He was hired, but
the tent would not house a concert but revival services, and in those
services he saw life more clearly.
He gave his life over to God. "Nothing's been the same since,"
he said,
"I felt the Lord telling me to keep walking, and so I did, some 14
yrs now."
"Ever think of stopping?" I asked.
"Oh, once in a while, when it seems to get the best of me. But
God has given me this calling. I give out Bibles. That's what's in
my sack. I work to buy food and Bibles, and I give them out when
His Spirit leads."
I sat amazed. My homeless friend was not homeless. He was
on a mission and lived this way by choice. The question burned inside
for a moment and then I asked: "What's it like?"
"What?"
"To walk into a town carrying all your things on your back
and to show your sign?"
"Oh, it was humiliating at first. People would stare and make
comments. Once someone tossed a piece of half-eaten bread and
made a gesture that certainly didn't make me feel welcome. But
then it became humbling to realize that God was using me to
touch lives and change people's concepts of other folks like me."
My concept was changing, too. We finished our dessert and
gathered his things. Just outside the door, he paused. He turned to
me and said, "Come Ye blessed of my Father and inherit the kingdom
I've prepared for you. For when I was hungry you gave me food,
when I was thirsty you gave me drink, a stranger and you took me
in."
I felt as if we were on holy ground.
"Could you use another Bible?" I asked.
He said he preferred a certain translation. It traveled well and was
not too heavy. It was also his personal favorite. "I've read through
it 14 times," he said.
"I'm not sure we've got one of those, but let's stop by our church
and see."
I was able to find my new friend a Bible that would do well,
and he seemed very grateful.
"Where you headed from here?"
"Well, I found this little map on the back of this amusement
park coupon."
"Are you hoping to hire on there for awhile?"
"No, I just figure I should go there. I figure someone under
that star right there needs a Bible, so that's where I'm going next."
He smiled, and the warmth of his spirit radiated the sincerity
of his his mission. I drove him back to the town-square where we'd
met two hours earlier, and as we drove, it started raining. We
parked and began to unload his things.
"Would you sign my autograph book?" he asked.
"I like to keep messages from folks I meet."
I wrote in his little book that his commitment to his calling
had touched my life. I encouraged him to stay strong. And I left him
with a verse of scripture from Jeremiah, "I know the plans I have
for you," declared the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to
harm you. Plans to give you a future and a hope."
"Thanks, man," he said. "I know we just met and we're really just
strangers, but I love you."
"I know," I said, "I love you, too."
"The Lord is good."
"Yes, He is. How long has it been since someone hugged you?"
I asked.
"A long time," he replied.
And so on the busy street corner in the drizzling rain, my new
friend and I embraced, and I felt deep inside that I had been changed.
He put his things on his back, smiled his winning smile and said,
"See you in the New Jerusalem."
"I'll be there!" was my reply.
He began his journey again. He headed away with his sign dangling
from his bed roll and pack of Bibles. He stopped, turned and said,
"When you see something that makes you think of me, will you
pray for me?"
"You bet," I shouted back, "God bless."
"God bless." And that was the last I saw of him. Late that evening
as I left my office, the wind blew strong. The cold front had settled
hard upon the town. I bundled up and hurried to my car. As I sat back
and reached for the emergency brake, I saw them... a pair of well
worn brown work gloves neatly laid over the length of the handle.
I picked them up and thought of my friend and wondered if his
hands would stay warm that night without them.
I remembered his words: "If you see something that makes you
think of me, will you pray for me?"
Today his gloves lie on my desk in my office. They help me to
see the world and its people in a new way, and they help me remember
those two hours with my unique friend and to pray for his ministry.
"See you in the New Jerusalem," he said. "Yes, Daniel, I know
I will!"
"I shall pass this way but once. Therefore, any good that I can
do or any kindness that I can show, let me do it now, for I shall
not pass this way again."
****
Much love from the beautiful Fall Smokey Mountains.
Larry
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