Joni Eareckson Tada: Sharing Hope

Guest (Male): Welcome to Joni Eareckson Tada: Sharing Hope. Joni’s story today will touch your heart deeply. It’s about a Caribbean cruise vacation she and Ken went on.

Joni Eareckson Tada: It was a Caribbean cruise to 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, no emails, no Wheels for the World trips for Ken and me to go on. We were taking a break from traveling to developing nations to give Bibles and wheelchairs. We were far away from the madding crowd, the pressures, the demands, no work—or so I thought.

Ken and I leaned over the railing of the enormous ship, and we watched the passengers wind their way off the gangplank, through a checkpoint and down the narrow streets of a Jamaican village to the marketplace five blocks away. Ken looked at me and said, “Are you ready?” and I said, “Let’s go.”

So, decked out in our 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 at the other side of the road and I noticed a few beggars. Hmm, I thought, maybe the cruise line doesn’t allow them on this side of the street. But 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 on this side of the street. 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 under 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. And when he saw me kind of bob my head to his rhythm, this man picked up a pair of maracas and offered them to me. “Hey lady, come and join me, please!”

I smiled as I 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, “All 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, linen, I stared into the candle at our table and I whispered, “What an honor.” And it was, because 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, and I could not 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.

Guest (Male): Listening friend, what’s our Lord Jesus saying to you today? Are you struggling and feeling like you’re less than the least, lower than the lowliest? If so, you can be like Joni and thank God for the honor of sharing in the suffering of Christ. Joni and I would love to pray for you. So go to joniradio.org and thanks for listening!