A few years ago, a group of salesmen went to a regional sales convention in Chicago. They had assured their wives that they would be home in plenty of time for Friday night dinner. In their rush through the crowded concourse, with boarding passes and briefcases, one of the men inadvertently kicked over a table which held a display of apples. Apples flew everywhere. Without stopping or looking back, they all managed to reach the plane in time for their almost-missed boarding. All but one.
He paused, took a deep breath, got in touch with his feelings and experienced a twinge of compassion for the girl whose apple stand had been overturned. He told his buddies to go on without him, waved goodbye, told one of them to call his wife when they arrived at their destination and explain to her that he would be taking a later flight. Then he returned to the terminal where the apples were all over the terminal floor.
He was glad he did.
The 16-year-old girl was totally blind! She was softly crying, tears running down her cheeks in frustration, and at the same time helplessly groping for her spilled produce as the crowd swirled about her, no one stopping to help her and no one caring about her plight. The salesman knelt on the floor with her, gathered the apples, put them back on the table and helped her organize her display. As he did this, he noticed that many of them had become battered and bruised; he set these aside in another basket.
When he had finished, he pulled out his wallet and said to the girl, “Here, please take this $40 for the damage we did. Are you okay?” She nodded through her tears. He continued, “I hope we didn’t spoil your day too badly.”
As the salesman started to walk away, the bewildered blind girl called out to him,
“Mister...”
He paused and turned to look back into those blind eyes.
She continued, “Are you Jesus?”
He stopped mid-stride and wondered. He gently went back and said, “No, I am nothing like Jesus--He is good, kind, caring, loving and never would have bumped into your display in the first place.”
The girl gently nodded and said, “I only asked because I prayed for Jesus to help me gather the apples. He sent you to help me, so you are like Him--only He knows who will do His will. Thank you for hearing His call, Mister.”
Slowly, he made his way to catch his flight with the girl's question burning and bouncing about in his soul: “Are you Jesus?”
