Christian Living

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I wasn’t really sure why I had logged-on to my Facebook page that morning. I had grown weary of the nonsensical humor, the mindless chatter, the disgruntled Monday morning blues and the other wastes of time and energy. I had made every effort to limit myself to only those who I thought would be interesting to read—those who would actually have something worthwhile to share. I whispered in my mind, ‘God why doesn’t anyone feel the need to share YOU anymore’? Feeling exasperated and totally uninspired, I was just about to log-out, when I saw it. The words were worthy of being read; the message was inspiring.

One of my Facebook friends was recounting her experience in the Dollar Store of all places. She told of waiting in the check-out line and overhearing the conversation of the cashier and the elderly couple finalizing their purchase. She could tell that they must have been frequent customers as the other employees knew them by name. Once they took possession of their bags they said their good-byes and proceeded to the door. The cashier then called out to the man, “please pray for my daddy.” He could have responded the way most of us would, by agreeing to do just that, but some other time—at a more convenient occasion in his schedule. Perhaps he would remember her daddy in his bedtime prayers or next Sunday in church. But that was not to be this man’s response. He stopped in his tracks and turned to walk back to the cashier. He took her by the hand and as my friend explained it, ‘he brought the glory down in that store’. He considered not the growing line of people hurrying back to their jobs. At that moment, time stood still to lift the name of a brother in need. She recalled that the power of his words and his heartfelt supplications brought her to tears. After he had sufficiently addressed the needs of the man and his daughter, he and his wife once again retreated from the store. My friend hurried to make her purchase and dashed out the door to catch up to the elderly couple. She told him how touched she was by his faithful gesture.

I began to contemplate how often we treat prayer requests and our harried responses as merely hospitable niceties. They become to us as words hastily spoken in passing. Once we finally settle down at the end of the day, we can hardly remember any of the brief encounters. The prayers are left un-prayed; we have failed to carry our brother’s or sister’s cross.
For some, it is hard to admit that they are in need. It demands of them great courage to ask another for prayer. Why should we disregard the importance of lifting our neighbors’ names and burdens to the Almighty God who is just waiting to hear from us? We are not promised the next day, the next hour or the next minute for that matter—so why wait?

As this revelation was unfolding in my heart and mind, I thanked God for giving me the patience to muddle through the mundane in order to find His Glory in a most unexpected place.

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