Pray for the Lady

By |Published On: August 30, 2018|Categories: 4-Minute Radio Program|

Hi, I’m Joni Eareckson Tada, and it was our first vacation in ten years: a Caribbean cruise through the islands a few years ago. It was a chance for Ken and me to carve out a week for ourselves away from ministry, no phones or emails, and no ‘Wheels for the World’ trips for Ken and me to go on. We were taking a break from traveling to developing nations to help give Bibles and wheelchairs. We were far away from the madding crowd, the pressures and demands. No work. Or so I thought. Ken and I leaned over the railing of the enormous ship and watched the passengers wind their way off the gangplank, through a checkpoint, and down the narrow streets of the Jamaican village to the marketplace five blocks away. Ken looked at me and said: “Are you ready?” and I said, “Let’s go!”

Decked out in tourist garb, we made our way through the lines of hawkers and taxi cab drivers. Ken waved them off, and we proceeded to head down the street on the right-hand side where most of the cruise ship tourists were walking. But then I looked to the other side of the road and noticed a few beggars. ‘Hmmm’… I thought. Maybe the cruise line doesn’t allow them on this side of the street. Then I spotted a young Jamaican woman in a wheelchair beside a table of seashell necklaces. Ken and I looked at each other and said: “We don’t belong here, we belong over there.” So we left the tourists and crossed the road.

We were late getting to the marketplace for chatting with so many disabled people who lined the left side of the street. By the time we reached the village center, I found a place in the shade of the colonnade and sitting there I noticed a happy-looking Jamaican man wearing a straw hat. He was seated at the corner of the colonnade. He was a one-man band, he was, strumming a banjo while pumping drums and a horn with his good foot. I noticed his other leg was amputated. His music was upbeat, and so I wheeled through the tourists to get closer. When he saw me bob my head to his rhythm, this man picked up a pair of maracas and offered them to me, “Here, lady, come and join me, play these!”

I smiled and shook my head, ‘Oh no.’ But when he saw my smile, he stood up, hobbled over and tried to place the maracas in my hand. That’s when he drew back, stunned. He realized that not only were my legs paralyzed, but I did not have use of my hands. His smile turned to dismay, and he cried to everyone gathered there, “Oh, pray for this lady! Pray for her!” The group didn’t know how to react. Ken arrived on the scene, and together we tried to alleviate everyone’s concerns, especially the Jamaican with the banjo. I tried to reassure him, “It’s okay, really, I’m happy because of Jesus!” at which point he pressed his hands together and lowered his head as if to show me he would pray.

That night back in the ship’s dining room, surrounded by elegant china and linen, I stared into the candle at our table and whispered, “What an honor.” And it was. A poor man considered me poorer than himself. A disabled man considered my disability a thing to be pitied; to have compassion on. “I was the recipient of charity from a toothless old Jamaican with one leg. I couldn’t have had a greater tribute.” Oh, what a privilege to be less than the least, to be lower than the lowliest that we desire to serve. Oh, to be like Christ. What an experience; and I’ll never forget it. So today, go to joniradio.org and you got to see this photo I’ve posted of my banjo plucking friend and me from Jamaica. So contact us at joniradio.org; that’s a different link to my radio page than you usually hear me say, but it’s a lot easier, joniradio.org. God bless you today and thanks for listening to Joni and Friends.

© Joni and Friends

Recent Posts