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Be His Hands and Feet
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“…How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news...” (Romans 10:15).

Curses and screams penetrated the closed door, echoed through the corridor and caused me to doubt my intentions. Should I visit Estelle or not? “Go,” an inner voice urged, “just knock and see what happens.”

I did. A man opened the door and I introduced myself as an acquaintance of the son. Seeing three other persons gathered in the far corner of the room, I explained that I merely wished to say “Hello” to my friend’s mother, but that I’d gladly come at a more convenient time. “Oh, no!” they exclaimed almost in unison, “Please stay!” They appeared relieved that someone else might become the recipient of the patient’s rage.

I approached the bed cautiously. Estelle had seen me once, just briefly, when her son had wheeled her past the room where we were holding chapel services. He introduced me to her and took her back to her room. The seriousness of her illness convinced me that she would not remember me. Nevertheless, it seemed important on this day that I should go and pray with her.

She looked like a wild woman, eyes aflame with anger, hair disheveled from tossing about. A curse caught in mid-utterance as she turned to look at me. I wanted to flee, to not be present in this nightmare. But I stood my ground and prayed silently that the Lord would stand beside me and glorify His name in this room where profanities still hung on the air.

Who Did You Think I Was?

An amazing thing happened. Exclaiming, “I’ve been waiting for you! I’m so glad you’ve come,” Estelle raised her arms to welcome me, her expression suddenly soft and tender. I wondered who she thought I was but decided it didn’t matter. God was providing an opportunity to minister. We talked a few moments and she asked me to pray with her. I held her hand as we prayed and I felt the peace of God coming over her.

It was not the end of battles for this lady. We became close friends in the months that followed, praying often together, singing, sharing laughter, sharing tears. I saw Christ become her closest Friend, learned lessons from her about faith and trust, and witnessed the gentle refining of her speech and character.

One day I asked, “Do you remember the first time I came to your room and you said you had been waiting for me? Who did you think I was?”

“It didn’t matter who you were. I had been praying to God to send someone to help me,” she responded. “I didn’t know you. But I knew immediately you were the person He had sent.”

What if I hadn’t visited? What if I hadn’t kept coming back?

We have been given, in the name of Christ, a sacred opportunity and privilege to minister to those in his large family who are crying for help--to be His hands, His feet, His lips.

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By Lois Pecce. Copyright © 2013 by GraceNotes. All rights reserved. Use of this material is subject to usage guidelines. Scripture taken from the NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION ®.

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