A Holy Moment on the U-Bahn

Today was the first “down” day we’ve had in a long time. While the older girls had a full schedule this fair Saturday, Chris and I took Libby (against her will) out for the day. We decided to explore the Kleider Bauer outlet and find a second-hand store I passed the other day in a new part of town that to us was unfamiliar.

The sun was out (Hallelujah) and you could feel spring in the air! I was giddy (it could be the fact that I have a vitamin D deficiency and any amount of sun sets me all a tingle!). Needless to say, we found some great bargains for Chris ( I can’t believe he won’t let me post pictures of him modeling his new 10 euro shirts we found for him!) and then found a quaint café where I got a cheap and fabulous coffee.

As we made our way to sniff out more bargains at my second-hand store, something unexpected happened. Let me chase a rabbit here. Despite living in a beautiful city, where socialism takes care of the unlovely and dejected ... where they are not cast out of mainstream society as in poorer countries, we have our share of heartbreaking casualties of life. And, when you come face to face with one of them, it makes it impact upon the soul. That’s what happened to us today.

As I was thinking about what bargains I might uncover, a young man entered the U-Bahn (subway). He carried himself with no grace and no distinction. His movements were slow and he held his head low. After a difficult entry into the U-Bahn car, he found a seat closest to the exit where he labored to set his frame down. His face was badly scared apparently from burning. One of his eyelids dropped to the point of sagging to expose the bright red underneath side. He bore the signs of a tracheotomy. He had to physically pick up his right leg to move it into place. His right hand was partially paralyzed as well. He strained to see the map, apparently trying to find the U-Bahn stop that would take him to his destination.

I was stopped in my tracks. Today, as I battle with hormones and feeling ugly and fat … the power of this young man’s presence shattered my self-pity. I could do nothing but indiscreetly keep my eyes fixated on every move this young man made. As I did, I saw Chris dancing this same awkward inner dance as I was. And, to my joy ... or horror, saw Libby wrestling with the same emotions.

As I sat, spellbound, I prayed. I prayed that this young man would know the love of Jesus. I prayed that he would have some encounter with the creator of the universe. I prayed that he would have a dream in which God would give him a personal dose of unconditional love and grace. I just prayed.

As we approached our U-Bahn stop and exited, no one in our trio said a word. As we came above ground, my Chris broke the silence with a remark about how thankful we should be for the simple things. I could hold it no longer. I began to cry.

I told Chris that I no longer felt ugly and fat, but thankful … so very thankful. I told him all I could do was sit there and pray for that young man. He said he was doing the same. Then, as he asked sweet Libby if she noticed the man, she shook her head yes. As she looked up at us with her expressive blue eyes, it was apparent she had been touched as well.

Then, perhaps the most profound moment of the day came when my Chris said how apparent it was that God was working in that young man’s life today. I was puzzled. My Chris went on to explain that for whatever reason, God allowed us to cross paths with that young man today … to see his struggle … to see his pain … and stir our hearts toward him. Our prayers meant something. Our experience with this man had meaning.

It was so brief. This young man shared a few stops on the U-Bahn. Yet somehow this was a holy moment.

After processing this with my Chris, I am encouraged ... and somehow enlightened. In my western mentality of Christianity, I think I have to do things, be things, produce things for God to use it. It's my effort, my ability, my strategy, me ... me ... me. Agh!

Why wouldn't God show us the unlovely to move our hearts toward love? Why wouldn't God use our inability to do a thing ... except pray ... to show us the power He alone holds?

The older I get, the weaker I really see what I am capable of. Who's to say that my prayers on the U-Bahn today will not produce greater fruit than a year of "doing" things for God.

Please hear me ... we must do things. God tells us that our works show our faith. However, when we put our confidence in what we do ... feeling somehow the results of our work is what counts ... we are sorely mistaken.

I have a vivid imagination. As a child, I used to pretend there was a video camera in my room ... capturing my moves as I stared in my own sitcom. Of course, I was the star, my teddy bears and dolls the supporting characters. It was all about ... me!

However, today my imagination cast a much better picture. For whatever reason, God chose my Chris, sweet Libby, and me to involve in this young man's life today. What if the next time we meet this young man ... it's in heaven. What if he comes up to us ... and introduces us to himself as the unlovely on the U-Bahn. I can just imagine me looking over to Jesus ... with him giving a quick blink of an eye ... and me feeling that in my heart it was just about me knowing the power of a big and awesome God ... and how He choose to move on behalf of an unlovely young man ... to produce a whole lot of fruit ... and it wasn't about me!