There is a young man in our church who I think about alot. He is extremely physically handicapped. And although his body is crippled up, shrunken and twisted, he is said to be 'sharp as a tack' mentally. (that saying should be the subject of another post) I'm not sure why, but he always sits on the very front row of seats. His walk up (or down) that long aisle becomes a grueling progression as he struggles against the force of gravity - as he tries to control his completely uncontrollable limbs. I want to hold his gaze and smile encouragement to him as he passes, but for me, it's been impossible to NOT avert my eyes in awkward embarrassment. Not that he would notice, really, since all his concentration is focused on remaining upright and in forward motion. So I've prayed for him as he passes, knowing that our God's arm is not too short to heal him as even as he struggles along the aisle on a Sunday morning! Right before our eyes- in the presence of all, that astonishing miracle would be so welcome!
But it hasn't happened yet.
Now this is the scandalous part that keeps tapping me on the shoulder:
This man who can scarcely feed himself, who can hardly walk or speak intelligibly, who can barely control his movements at all - he worships the Lord with his whole heart! I hear his voice - the whole congregation hears his voice as he calls out "Holy!" in the midst of corporate worship. It causes me to bow my head in shame! I, who enjoy health and wellness, do not worship with this depth of spirit or truth. How ironic is that? Just think - just meditate on that with me! That one so afflicted worships with enough zeal to disgrace the many, many healthy.