Praise From A Gurney

One Sunday afternoon, as usual, the ground floor lounge area of the Life Care Center was filled to capacity with residents in wheel chairs, sitting chairs and every couch in the room. On this particular day we began to play music, and people were settling into preparations for worship when there was a considerable commotion at the door. We looked up to discover staff rearranging furniture, the residents and wheelchairs to accommodate a gurney, of all things, and they seemed determined to wedge it right into the room -- which they soon did.

There was an IV drip going from a stand attached to the gurney into someone lying totally still, apparently comatose. The person was covered only with a sheet and, as seen in the movies, both bare feet stuck out from the bottom of the sheet. From where I sat, it was impossible to tell anything about the person on the gurney, but I remember wondering why the determination to bring someone who appeared to be unconscious into the service. It seemed pointless and disruptive.

However, we continued with the worship service and it was an especially joyful afternoon of praise, with singing and clapping, hands lifted and radiant smiles on old faces. Suddenly, a movement caught my eye. I don't know how I saw it. We were singing something lively and the whole room was in motion, but it must have been the Lord pointing something out, as He can so graciously do. As I looked more closely, I realized that the big toe of the person under the sheet was beating to the rhythm of the music!

At that moment, I saw that comatose or not, there was a reason for that inert form to be there that day, and it was to praise the Lord! I then confessed that this was no "inert form," nor "comatose patient," but a precious child of God whom He had brought to us so we could share Him that day.

Let His Praises Ring!!!

Every Sunday afternoon at Life Care Center, from almost our very first Sunday here, a man and woman come together to the services. The woman, obviously the wife or sister, delicately pretty, slender and petite, tenderly guiding a man of about her size to their seats in the room we use as a chapel.

The man always wears a baseball cap. He shuffles along, scooting his slippered feet along the floor -- never lifting them. His head is always down, chin tucked deep into his chest; his eyes closed or squinted so tight they look closed, never looking where he is going. You get the feeling, if she wasn't guiding him, he'd be like a wind-up toy that works its way across the floor until it comes to a wall and just keeps going through the same motions as though it were making progress.

His hands are always folded across his chest, and his lips never stop moving in a soundless monologue. He never acknowledges any comments made to him, and seems to be in a world we cannot join. From what we can see, neither his expression nor his body language ever change, but the little lady with him faithfully brings him to worship services every Sunday afternoon.

Did you, dear reader, ever have a moment when the Lord opened your eyes to something that has been there all along, but somehow you just couldn't see? One Sunday afternoon as we were singing Amazing Grace, it was as though the Lord brought my eyes to the man's lips and said, "Look and See." As I watched, I realized his lips weren't just moving mindlessly, but that they were mouthing the words of the song, and he knew every word of every verse perfectly! That's not all. He knew every word of every hymn perfectly, and he never "sat out" a hymn.

Every Sunday he has been there, singing his soundless praises to the Lord along with the rest of us. And it may even be that his praises ring more loudly through the heavens than do ours.

We don't know the history of these precious old souls, but God does. We can't see into their hearts, but God can, and sometimes He lets us "see" too, and the beauty astounds us!