I have seen Jesus.  I truly have.  I’m neither crazy, nor a religious fanatic, who sees God under every rock, and hears Him in every passing cloud.  But I have seen Jesus.  It was a couple of months ago. 

I was sitting on an airplane.  People were boarding as we were getting ready to leave.  The last two people to board were an older man, perhaps fifty five, and a teenage boy.  The man was behind the boy, and had his arms around the boy’s chest.  He was struggling, face red, teeth gritting, sweat popping out on his forehead, trying to carry the boy into the plane.  The young man was obviously paralyzed from the waist down, and had very little control from the waist up.  Sweating profusely now, the man hoisted the boy onto the plane and just passing me, he put the boy in the seat behind me.  He didn’t just dump him into the seat, mind you.  He set him there, gently.  There was value in the man’s attitude toward the boy.  Something . . . deep.

The plane was one of those little commuter jobs, one seat on my side of the plane and two seats on the other, perhaps six rows like that.  Holding the boy in place, the man put the seat belt around the boy’s waist, then put a second belt, which he carried with him, around the boy’s chest and the seat so he wouldn’t fall over.  The last thing the man did, after taking his seat just across the aisle from the boy, was to reach out and take his son’s hand and hold it as we raced down the runway.  I was moved.  What was this great event I was witnessing? 

During the flight, we hit some rough weather a couple of times.  The plane was tossed back and forth, up and down.  Those little commuters tend to be shaken much easier than the big planes.  It was during some of the roughest moments, the boy behind me lost his stomach and threw up.  Calmly, and with a tenderness born of a father’s love, the man gently spoke to his son, as he wiped the mess from his face and clothes. 

            “Are you alright, son?”

            A garbled, “Ahh . . .” escaped the lips of the boy.

            “Don’t worry.  It’s O.K.”

The stewardess brought some wet towels back and attempted to clean up the mess, but, with a smile of thanks, the man took them from her.  He proceeded to wipe his boy’s face and clothes, then the chair and floor.  With something bordering on spiritual humility, he handed the cloths back to the stewardess, and returned to his seat.  There was no sigh, no shaking of the head.  There was just a man who had done for his son what needed to be done.

The turbulence continued and in a short time the episode was repeated.  It was like watching an instant replay on some sports show.  The man was just as loving and tender the second time as he was the first.  His attitude of love never wavered.  I’m not a particularly emotional man, but my eyes filled with tears.

I have no idea who that man was.  I only know he was a great man, and he taught me something about love and faith that day, about family and sacrifice.  He changed my life, if only just a little bit.  I may never see him again, but I’ll remember him always.  In fact, I must never forget. 

I say I don’t know who he was, and that’s true.  I do know who was in him though . . . It was Jesus.  I saw Him.  He was on the Memphis flight from Chattanooga.

As you spend time on the mission field, can people see Jesus in you?  What you say about Jesus means something only if they see Him in your life!

"He who receives you receives me, and he who receives me receives the one who sent me.”

Matthew 10:40

"Whoever welcomes one of these little children in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me does not welcome me but the one who sent me."

Mark 9:37

             “I tell you the truth, whoever accepts anyone I send accepts me; and whoever accepts me accepts the one who sent me."

John 13:20

Josiah  Tilton