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It’s been several years now, yet the experience has not been forgotten. For some reason, the day came flooding back into my thoughts recently.

We sat in the waiting area which was quickly becoming a familiar part of our Wednesdays. She and I. We could probably think of at least a hundred places we would rather be, but there was no choice. Her body seemed to have made the choice for us.

In looking around, I began to see “them”…

  • Two women, one older and one younger. Obviously a mother and daughter. From the neck down, they were dressed in clothes much like our own. From the neck up, each of their heads were covered the way of many Mid-Eastern women. The older woman seemed worn, tired, and obviously unwell. The eyes of the younger woman were filled with concern. Both of them were beautiful. Their skin stunning.
  • A son and his parents. His mom there for treatment, seemed to know the drill, but was fatigued from it all. The son walked away and returned with the familiar egg salad sandwich and a hot cup of tea. They looked European and when they spoke, I realized they were Ukranian.
  • Three Black people ”“ two women and a man. The older woman in a wheelchair beginning to show signs of being weakened by the process occurring in her body. Their Jamaican accents were thick as they conversed and tried to keep their mom occupied and laughing as they waited.
  • Across the room was an older Japanese couple. The husband was keeping himself busy with reading, while his wife was sprawled on a couch, asleep, unable to stay awake.

That was when it hit me …

They are no different than I am.
We are all the same.

In that room, in that moment, our hopes were all exactly the same ”“ we wanted our loved ones to be well and healthy once again.

Not a single one of us were thinking about politics, or world events, or prejudices.

My thoughts were flooding in quickly now ”“ They are no different than I am. We are all the same.

Each one of them, regardless of nationality, color, or gender, had the same need of a Savior as I did. Each needed His forgiveness, His redemption, His restoration and His healing touch. Each one of us.

It’s been years now and I have been unable to stop thinking about “them”. My loved one is fully recovered and well. But what of  their family members?

I have wondered about my observation. Why would this experience have struck so deeply?

We can so get caught up in the events which happen around our country or in other parts of the world. We can jump onto social media to make a statement, or write a blog post, forgetting a most critical truth ”“ each person matters to our God.

Before the Cross, we are all equal. His blood ran for each one of us. He tells us that one day, this is the scene which will unfold before His very throne:

“After this I saw a vast crowd, too great to count, from every nation and tribe and people and language, standing in front of the throne and before the Lamb. They were clothed in white robes and held palm branches in their hands. And they were shouting with a great roar, “Salvation comes from our God who sits on the throne and from the Lamb!” (Revelation 7:9-10, NLT)

This will be the testimony common to us all ”“ no matter our race, our nation, our tribe, our people or our language.

But for now, in these days we are living, we are called to love others,
to speak His truth in love.
To show mercy.

Beth Moore’s Bible Study, “Believing God”, remains a favorite for both Beth Willis Miller, myself, and many others. Read her post, Blue Yarn Bracelets HERE.



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