When I arrived at the dialysis center, there was no one in the waiting room, nor any receptionist or anyone to verify if that was where I was to wait for Mr. D. After a few moments, a nurse wheeled an elderly lady out and I asked if I was in the right place to pick up Mr. D. She assured me I was and that he would be done in just a few moments. I told her I had never met him, so wouldn't recognize him.
As she returned to the back room, the spry woman in a wheelchair glanced up at the television, which was showing a pizza commercial.
"Pizza!" she said longingly, "I am not allowed to have pizza. Nor coke! My two favorite things and I can't have them. Can't have bacon, luncheon meat, tomato sauce..."
"That's a shame," I commiserated, "What can you have?"
"That list is a whole lot shorter," she laughed.
"Well at least you kept your sense of humor," I said, "I bet in heaven you can have pizza, and it will be the best pizza ever."
"I hope so," she said waving, as the nurse wheeled her out to her ride home. (Now if you pharisees are about to scream at me about my interpretation of eating in heaven, check out Mark 14:25: As Jesus is enjoying the last supper with His disciples, He says, “Assuredly, I say to you, I will no longer drink of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the Kingdom of God’ ” Clearly, Jesus will be drinking wine in heaven. I assure you, so will I. And what goes better with wine than great pizza, heavenly pizza?)
A few moments later, the nurse wheeled out an elderly man. She nodded to me, indicating this was the man I was waiting for.
"Hello," I said warmly, reaching for his hand, "I'm Vicky and I am here to take you home."
"You are?" he asked, confused. My friend had warned me he might be confused, so I just smiled and told him, "Yes. Though your daughter didn't tell me about the wheelchair. Do I take that too?"
"Yes," said the nurse, "It's his chair."
Now I was confused. I had specifically asked my friend if he was ambulatory and she had said he was. The man looked really confused now, and at that moment, his wife walked in and said, "Hi honey, ready to go?"
I looked at the nurse.
"Are you Mr. D?" I asked the man.
"No," he said, "But you are welcome to come home with me anyway."
I apologized to the wife for attempting to kidnap her husband.
The nurse looked sheepish, and disappeared into the back room, then reappeared with the real Mr. D. He was not in a wheelchair, didn't seem weak, nor very confused. In fact, he gave me exact and perfect directions to his home.
Mistaken identities! Mr. D was in good company. Jesus Himself was not recognized for who He really was. It didn't matter that He fullfilled every prophecy of the promised Messiah, performed miracles, or spoke with unparallelled wisdom and authority. His true identity was questioned and rejected by many. It still is today. But let me give you some sound Biblical advice: if there is pizza in heaven, you will want a slice of it. And if Jesus is who He claims to be, THE way, THE truth, and THE life, and no one comes to the Father except through Him....don't you think it would be a good idea to make His acquaintance?
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