By Pat Russell
We finished teaching at a women’s leadership training in
China, and we were up for a break before we headed on to our next event in
another city. My friend and I decided that we would take a walk down the
pedestrian zone in the heart of this beautiful mega-city for our Sabbath day.
We were feeling like the Kingdom of Heaven was all around us and His Reign was
alive and well.
There, right on the edge of a lovely park was a coffee shop
of world renown, so we purchased our too-expensive coffee and pastries and
headed up an outdoor flight of stairs to the patio above. As we climbed the
stairs, there she was – a little lady about four and a half feet tall. Her face
was round and red from sunburn, wrapped in a scarf. She wore peasant clothes
that were mismatched and dirty. Her teeth were yellow and only partially
present.
She carried a shoeshine kit in one hand – a small box with a
place to put your foot so that she could work on your shoes. And so it was that
she offered to clean our shoes. She greeted us at the top of the steps and
followed us over to the patio constantly making the offer even though we put
our hands up to say no. We sat down and she was right beside our table waiting
for us to give in.
Finally my friend and I gave her a small portion of our
pastry hoping that this would suffice and she would leave us alone to enjoy our
Sabbath day. We were, after all, “holy women” who had served the Lord with all
our hearts the day before.
The little lady took our offerings, pulled up her shoeshine
box and sat down below us. Picture a people-triangle by an umbrella café table
– my friend sitting on a chair, a little Chinese peasant lady sitting on a
shoeshine kit, not quite coming up as high as the table, and then me sitting on
another café chair. My friend and I looked at each other in wonderment at this
woman’s persistence. We did not look at her. We ate bites of our pastry and
drank our warm coffee.
The little shoeshine lady stood up when she was finished and
simply, quietly remained between us. We reluctantly gave her more of our
pastries. She ate while standing. Soon after she wandered away.
It was in that moment when the little shoeshine lady was
gone that my friend and I looked at one another and realized our great
omission. We had missed the very presence of Christ among us. I believe that
the little shoeshine lady wanted to join our fellowship, wanted to sit at our
table with us, but we did not want her.
I did not have eyes to see. I could have engaged the
shoeshine lady with my eyes even though we could not talk, and l could have had
the love and kindness of Christ in my heart while I sat beside this little
lady. Instead, I thought that if I acted kindly that would be the same thing as
being kind from the inside out. I could have let go of my agenda for the agenda
of the Kingdom of Heaven. Instead, I saw her as an interruption that, if
ignored, would go away. I missed a chance to interact with Christ for the price
of a coffee and pastry.
I was sad, sad that I missed Christ that day, sad that I
rejected the little shoeshine lady as a sister. I am still sad when I think of
that experience. I have asked forgiveness. Since that time, I have heard his
voice, “Pat, next time. Next time you will see me. I believe you will, my dear
child.” Oh how I pray that will be so.
No comments:
Post a Comment