I was representing a client before the Social Security Administration. We had just emerged from a hearing before an administrative law judge where we had succeeded in obtaining disability benefits. I asked my client to wait for me in the lobby while I finalized some paperwork.

The pressures of the ordeal, coupled with the realization that she was now officially considered “disabled” by the government of the United States, reached a critical mass: my client began to cry.

I didn't notice her crying, consumed as I was with the red tape required to formalize her scarlet letter. One person did notice, though. She was an elderly woman awaiting her turn before the judge, mired in her own stress and fear.

She approached my client, sat down beside her, hugged her, and offered her a shoulder to cry on. Speaking to my client gently, the elderly lady then began to pray with her.

By this time I had noticed the scene. My first thought was, “Why is this lady doing this? She obviously has her own issues at a moment like this.” I then watched as my client’s tears of pain turn into tears of hope and joy. As the elderly woman wiped those tears away, I noticed her smile and say a few final words, eliciting genuine nods of acquiescence from my client, and then walk back to her seat beside her husband.

She sat there emanating true power, not the power envisioned by most everyone in the world today. She was emanating the power of love. And I was drawn to it.

I approached the woman and knelt down beside her. I felt like I was kneeling before Jesus Himself.

“You are a disciple of the Lord,” I said.

“Yes,” she replied, with the same smile with which she had blessed my client moments ago.

I bowed my head and confessed my sins to this stranger, to this powerless old woman. I described to her the struggles I was encountering within my own discipleship. And I asked her to pray for me. She did, resting her frail hand atop my head, a short, powerful, beautiful prayer whose words I could not recall today if my life depended on it.

Maybe one day I'll paint a picture of it.

Just then her husband, who was seated beside her and quietly witnessing this odd scene, intervened. He asked me what church I attended. When I replied, he said I should consider attending their church. He then asked which translation of the Bible I was reading. I was too dumbfounded to respond. He then told me about a wonderful Christian television program that I should watch that would really make difference in my life. Finally, he asked whether I would be willing to make a financial contribution to the program.

With the same force that I was attracted to the old woman, I was repelled by her husband. I glanced over at the woman. Her countenance had changed from one of light to one of shame. I mumbled an unconvincing excuse about why I had to go and bid them farewell. As I stood, I whispered to the old woman that I would pray for her as well.

The smile returned.

Grace and Peace,
Raffi


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