"I'm Just Fine, Brother Bob, Just Absolutely Fine!"

A couple of days ago I was in Wal-mart picking up milk, bread, sugar, and a DVD player. The fact I can pick up such disparate items in the same store sometimes amazes me, but that's another story. For today, what caught my interest was a voice I heard while on the baking needs isle. From a couple of isles over I heard a loud voice proclaim "Hallelujah, HALLELUJAH, HALLELUJAH" in a voice that rose in volume from the first hallelujah to the last. I immediately assumed there was a sale on asparagus, rib-eye steaks, or some other overpriced food--but the voice continued to assail God's ear, and it turned out the entreaty was for healing.

Being somewhat curious as to how a revival meeting broke out in Wal-mart, I quickly selected which sugar package combined the best price-per-ounce and ability to easily carry (ruled out the fifty pound'er), and carted away to find the source. At the end of one of the food isles, taking up a portion of the main isle, was a gentleman who appeared to be about thirty-five, along with a lady I'd peg as north of sixty. With one hand on the shoulder of the lady and the other hand raised to God, the gentleman continued, in a voice familiar to anyone such as myself who was raised in a charismatic church, to pray for and praise for healing.

No, I didn't stop and stare, though I took a good look as I pushed my pulls-to-the-left shopping cart on past to the milk department. The gentleman was obviously lost in the spirit and oblivious (or, at least, unconcerned) as to his surroundings, but the lady had this look on her face . . . sort of like she might make a run for it at any second. I continued on to the milk cooler, picked up 2% white, 2% chocolate, and some French-Vanilla creamer, taking my time on the creamer and checking out a couple of brands. The prayer meeting continued while I was making my dairy selections, and as this was my last stop I headed back toward the front to check out. You could pretty much hear the prayer over that entire side of the Super Center, but nobody assumed terrorism and ran for the doors. The only comment I heard was one mom, hearing but not seeing the source, answer her son with "I guess he was struck by the spirit."

As to how this little healing service broke out, I pictured Brother Bob (as I named him) running into Sister Myrtle (as I named her) at "the Wal-mart" and saying "Well, hello Sister Myrtle, how are you today?" And Sister Myrtle responds with "Oh, Brother Bob, not so good, not so good. My rheumatis' is actin' up, got some arthritis so bad you wouldn't wish it on a mean dog, and I think I may have a touch of the bird flu." And Brother Bob responds, as any charismatic preacher would, by offering to pray for her. At this point, Sister Myrtle is in a tight spot. On the one hand, she may not want to be prayed for in Wal-mart, but she has to be thinking "Well, if I say no 'cause I'm embarrassed, God might let me get worser--so I gotta say yes."

Now, what I think of what was happening isn't really why I wrote this post, but I've got no problem with what was going on. I'd have suggested Brother Bob use an inside Wal-mart voice as opposed to his inside a tent revival healing service voice, but other than that, why not? The God of the tent revival is the same as the God of the Wal-mart impromptu prayer meeting. But, as I said, that isn't why I wrote this post. What struck me as I walked by the pair -- and saw the look on Sister Myrtle's face -- was that the next time she bumps into Brother Bob at the Wal-mart, and he asks how she's doing, she'll reply with "I'm just fine, Brother Bob, just absolutely fine!"