“Hi, I noticed you have some limitations. What’s your name?”
It’s been at least 10 years since someone has said that about me based on my limp or clenched right hand. Although that wasn’t exactly what the stranger said, it might as well have been. He saw me using ASL and asked me if I was “Hearing Impaired”.
I can’t lie, no.. I’m not. Instead of letting the silence say what I wanted it to ( Is “Go away” too strong a silent message?) He asked more questions. The second he understood the very vague answer meant I had a disability, he plopped his overly-nice butt down in the vacant chair and said the following (literally, this time… unfortunately):
“I’m the pastor at (Town and Denomination shall stay nameless) and I was just thinking I needed to spend more time around your kind. Have you ever had a charismatic experience in which you could be healed?”
Miracle #1: I did not choke on my coffee.
Miracle #2: I somehow kept the cynicism out of my voice.
Miracle #3: I did not turn to sarcasm in order to ask him what kind he was.
Today, I spent almost 90 minutes with this man trying desperately to show him that withholding healing from me was not God’s way of showing me He hated me. It was His way of living up to His promise that through Weakness, his Strength is revealed.
I’m not sure if he understood, but I left the coffee shop amused and blessed because I was reminded of one thing.
I’m an imperfect individual society thinks should fall between the cracks, yet my God gives me purpose… despite those imperfections.
That makes me laugh… but oh, I wouldn’t have it any other way.