I'm sorry, pastor. She slipped...
Illustration
"I'm sorry, pastor. She slipped past us and into the sanctuary before I had a chance to catch her and get her back on the street."
A quick glance into the near full church showed the source of the usher's concern. A disheveled bag lady had wandered off the street on a Sunday morning and parked herself, complete with two or three shopping bags in the middle of the back pew. The usher found hem presence embarrassing. Even though the woman was causing no disturbance and stayed for the entire worship service, it was obvious that she was mentally disturbed.
The bag lady was the last to leave the church. As she came out the door, the minister reached out his hand to shake her extended hand. He brought his other hand to rest on her shoulder. Fully expecting the usual "pitch" for lunch and/or wine money, he looked her in the eyes and asked, "What can I do to help you?"
The woman began to cry. "Oh, thank you, thank you," she said. "I'm so glad you touched me! Thank you for touching me."
The pastor never understood whether it was the worship service or his hand on her shoulder that meant so much to her. I suspect it really didn't matter. That bag lady taught the minister an important lesson. All too often we don't listen to blind beggars and bag ladies. At least we don't listen past their loud cries or don't look past their physical appearances to hear and see their real needs.
-- Cueni
A quick glance into the near full church showed the source of the usher's concern. A disheveled bag lady had wandered off the street on a Sunday morning and parked herself, complete with two or three shopping bags in the middle of the back pew. The usher found hem presence embarrassing. Even though the woman was causing no disturbance and stayed for the entire worship service, it was obvious that she was mentally disturbed.
The bag lady was the last to leave the church. As she came out the door, the minister reached out his hand to shake her extended hand. He brought his other hand to rest on her shoulder. Fully expecting the usual "pitch" for lunch and/or wine money, he looked her in the eyes and asked, "What can I do to help you?"
The woman began to cry. "Oh, thank you, thank you," she said. "I'm so glad you touched me! Thank you for touching me."
The pastor never understood whether it was the worship service or his hand on her shoulder that meant so much to her. I suspect it really didn't matter. That bag lady taught the minister an important lesson. All too often we don't listen to blind beggars and bag ladies. At least we don't listen past their loud cries or don't look past their physical appearances to hear and see their real needs.
-- Cueni
