Where´d You Get Those Legs?
Personal Experience Changes Perspective
We were a small group of strangers all gathered for the same purpose. None of us knew one another by name though we had seen each other at events like this in the past. We had formed a loose semi-circle as we waited for the gates to open. Far enough away from one another to maintain anonymity yet close enough to hear one another’s conversations. It was a safe environment but that was about to change in a good way.
A fairly large black gentleman made his way over from his area of solitude to a couple of young gents that he had recognized from previous events. He was dressed like a beggar, in an old sweat shirt, some faded jeans with wholes that were not fashionably placed, and dress shoes that were black with faux leopard skin on the tops, white socks. Needless to say nothing in his clothing spoke of the riches he held. He spoke to the two young gents in a manner that suggested he was uneducated and flamboyant. His voice raised loud enough that everyone in the group heard him speak.
“Where did you get those legs” he asked, as he placed an arm over the shoulder of one of the young men. Sheepishly the young man replied with a boyish grin “what, from my momma”. He was obviously a little stricken by the question and was overtaken by the public display of his new found friend who seemed to single him out from all the other members of the group. No doubt he was confused by the manner of the investigation and curious as to where it would lead, even as I was. “So, yo momma don’t got no legs”, he quickly continued his inquisition. “Yes, she has legs” the young man retorted. “Then you didn’t get your legs from your momma did you” he quipped. “So where did you get your legs” he once again probed. “I guess God gave them to me” the young man mumbled in a embarrassed whisper. “That’s right, God gave them to you” the black man almost shouting now. “Then tell me who is Lord of all” he continued his assault on the sheepish young man. “Jesus” he answered as if he himself was still wondering. “That’s right, Jesus is Lord of all” the black man seemed elated with the answer. Satisfied, he motioned the two young men to walk over to where I was. It was apparent that now he was going to confront me with his new found disciples. “Where did you get your legs” he asked me with same exuberance that he had displayed with the young man previous. “I know what you want to hear now” I said. “The creator God who gives life to all gave me these legs” I boldly stated, thinking he would move on to his next victim. “That’s right, you know God gave them legs to you, don’t you” he retorted. “I see you’re talking about Jesus, how did you come to know Jesus?” I asked. He said “I’m sixty years old and I didn’t hear anything about Jesus until I was forty. You see, nobody loved me enough to tell me about Jesus. I knew people who went to church but they didn’t love me enough to tell me about Jesus. They didn’t even love me enough to invite me to church.” “How did you finally hear about Jesus” I asked curiously. “I was living with this woman, she was using me and I was using her,” he continued “she was using me for money, and I was using her for sex; but there was no relationship there. One night I come home and found my stuff on the porch she had replaced me with some other brother. I needed to go somewhere and didn’t have enough money to stay in a motel. It was Saturday night and it was raining and I called someone to take me to the town where my sister lived. I was left on the outskirts of town with no money, and no place to stay; so I called my baby sister and she came and got me. She fed me and I told her I don’t have any place to go. It hurt because she was my baby sister and I was needing her to take care of me when I should have been taking care of her. You see, I had lived a bad life. I drank, did drugs, slept with women, and a many other things I’m not proud of and I didn’t deserve anything good to happen to me. So my sister said you’ll stay here with me. She made a bed for me on the sofa. I told her I would find somewhere else tomorrow if she would just keep me for the night. She asked only one thing I want from you, will you go to church with me in the morning? So I did. I sat on the back row, by myself; I told my sister I felt more comfortable at the back. When I saw the joy of all the people at the close of the service, up there dancing, shouting and crying out to God, I said to myself I wish I had that joy. I thought I was saying it to myself but really it was the first time I prayed and I asked Jesus into my heart. Such a burden was lifted off of me you can’t believe. I decided to stay till the next week and go to church again. When I went in I ran down to the front, an usher grabbed me and said you’re not supposed to go down there until the Pastor gives invitation but it didn’t stop me, I just wanted to shout about what Jesus had done. I told Jesus then I would never stop sharing him with everybody I met and now twenty years later I’m still shouting about Jesus.”
It was a remarkable testimony, and one I could see was being lived out as promised. It wasn’t long until we had a group gathered around us, still nameless but now connected by the love of Jesus. It stuck in my mind “nobody loved me enough to tell me about Jesus.”
I wonder how many people a day we pass assuming they don’t want to hear, they don’t want to be bothered, or they have already heard about Jesus. People like this man, who needs Jesus in order to live life aright? Will you tell someone about Jesus today?