I saw Jesus today

By Sherry Larson

People’s Defender

(Revised from a former blogpost)

I saw Jesus today. It was a most unexpected experience and humbled me to the core. My daughter Blake and I did some shopping and stopped for a quick lunch. And then we made a somewhat traumatic stop at the tattoo/piercing parlor in Asheville, North Carolina. For a person who fears needles, a shop full of them gave me palpitations.

We started the walk back to the parking lot. A few feet away, I saw a man, seemingly homeless and tattered looking. He lit up as he saw my daughter approaching him. She said his name and embraced him warmly. He said, “I love you, ” and she loved him back. He said he had missed seeing her and wanted to know where she’d been. He assured her that he was doing great and was convincing with his big yellow grin. Blake made introductions. And I saw him coming. He was moving towards me, and my body tightened. Oh, my word – here it comes – he’s going to hug me. And he looked at me and said, “And I love you too.” And I said it back to him, but I wasn’t sure I convinced him.

I saw love pouring out of my daughter to this man. I stood sizing him up – observing the marks up and down his arms and legs, the shabby, mismatched clothing, his unbrushed teeth, and a goofy hat that made him look animated and adorable. His kind blue eyes sparkled as Blake spoke with him (and Jesus knew what the Pharisees were thinking). At that moment, I was jealous of Blake’s ability (“love is an ability” – credit Dan In Real Life) and effortlessness to engage, and I was ashamed of my fear. She opened her wallet and dropped a couple of dollars into his torn, white paper bag that held his belongings. He pulled out a tiny Victoria’s Secret bag and shared a story about a “once upon a time” girlfriend. We couldn’t help but smile. He looked at me and said, “Well, Momma, I love her.” And then – get ready – he was coming in for a hug again. He loved me too, and I relaxed (a little), still envying my daughter’s ability to give that full-on hug. We said goodbye, and Blake shared her relief that he was still alive. I walked and tried to reconcile what I had just witnessed, but a street away, we met another.

I could see Blake smile as we approached an older man sitting in a wheelchair on the sidewalk. He was legless and wore a veteran’s cape – I guessed Vietnam. He hadn’t been at his usual spot at the “wall” lately, and he explained the amputation of his second leg to diabetes – a different kind of war. He told us that he spoke with the Lord and the Lord wasn’t ready to take him home yet. So, he vowed to return to the spot he’d held for the past 12 years sitting at the “Before I Die” wall – where people chalked their hopes and dreams. This place was his ministry. He spoke of Job and his family lineage. He smiled, shook his head, and said, “I’m tired.” I stood in awe. I could feel myself smiling and heard myself say “amen” as he told us that the Lord had told him he didn’t need legs to get into heaven and that God had a brand-new pair waiting for him there. “My ears had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you,” Job 42:5.

And I departed again with a “God Bless you,” but it was clear that the partaker of the blessings today was me. Because today, I saw Jesus, and it was not in a pastor, a priest, a Sunday school teacher, or even in a church greeter. I saw Jesus in my kind daughter and two drifters who loved her. And the Lord reminded me again that I have no dictation in His design. Neither has His kingdom come despite me nor because of me, but His love for me has engaged my participation. I saw Jesus not because I was looking but because He chose to be seen.