The Singer

The day's temperature was just beginning its upward climb toward the nineties.  The parking lot was full but we found a spot reasonably close to our destination that offered a stingy piece of appreciated shade.  As I stepped out of the car the Florida temperature greeted me like a warm hug.  Immediately my ears picked up the sound of someone singing.  I recall having heard this before from a previous visit to this shopping area.   I also recalled the thoughts I had the first time I heard him here.  My heart becomes hard like a sharp-edged rock.

The man singing is standing against the wall of a department store.  He isn't near the entrance to the store so we can avoid him rather easily as we head in that direction.   He appears to be blind as he has a cane next to him and a jar before him.  As my sister and I are walking we exchange some comments about him.   I may have said something to the effect of having seen him here before,  keeping veiled the nature of my inner thoughts.  We continued toward the entrance chalking him up to be one of the many homeless copping a coin. 

As we navigate toward the door his singing ceases and he begins to speak about new life in Jesus.   I pause for a moment listening to him as he speaks truth into the wide-open space of this busy parking lot. He has become a font of spiritual water running like a stream in a desert wilderness. My heart seizes.  I know what it's like to thirst for something and attempt to quench it with what doesn't satisfy.  

As we enter the store the grip on my heart does not relent.  I am unenthused with all the merchandise before me.  What happens instead is all the negative thoughts I've had about this blind solo singer in the past begin to bubble up in my memory.  As I am convicted of this my heart continues to ache and I'm unable to think, let alone shop.  

 I look in my wallet for some bills and find I have none.  I ask my sister if she has cash and she gives me a questioning look but responds with a  yes.  I mumble to her I'll be right back quickly explaining to her that the singing man was speaking the truth and I felt compelled to respond in some way.  

As I exit the store the sound of his song touches my ears once again.  The hardness in my heart eases, the ache lessens.  I walk toward him with purposeful intention.   As I draw up closer to him, I put the bills into his jar and thank him for speaking the truth.  Just as I finish my sentence he stops, turns his blind countenance toward me and asks my name.  I answer and ask him for his.  He is a young man.  It's then that he asks if he can pray for me.  I am caught a little off guard but I respond with a yes.  

I ask him for prayer on loving God in a greater way than I already do.   I know deep in my soul that to love God more would enable me to love others more genuinely.   We bow our heads together and this young blind man whom I've criticized and disregarded in the past is praying confidently for me to Jesus.  He knows Him well. 

As he prays it seems as if there isn't another soul around.   It's as if all the people that were bustling about were swallowed up in a vacuum and all that was left behind were this young man and I standing in prayer before the very one who has quenched our thirst, Jesus. He is there with us.

"For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.”

Matthew 18:20

For days the memory of this parking lot prayer remained as a tangible presence in my life.   Words fall short of the spiritual blessing God graced me with through this young man.  It was supernatural.   Some of the scales that were blinding my eyes dropped away and my heart discovered a greater tenderness.   I chuckle to think I went to give him a few dollars and he gave me a memory that was as precious as pearls.  

I haven't seen him in the area for many months now.  He truly was a lesson placed there to be learned.  And you may wonder if the prayer was answered.  I would have to say the prayer was being answered before it was ever spoken.