What Autograph Tables Are Missing

The autograph table. Artists seated in a row with Sharpies in hand. Fans in a line with CDs in hand. A road manager moves the line along making sure no one has time for more than an introduction and a handshake.

Efficient.

I don’t have enough fans to merit an autograph table. There’s no massive crowd in need of greeting me in that very short amount of time between end of concert and departure of the bus.

So I mill around the Compassion International table after shows, answering questions about sponsorship and sometimes getting to go beyond first names and handshakes.

Last night Annie came to the Compassion International table. “I believe God wants me to sponsor this child,” she said, “but I have stage four cancer and the doctors say I won’t be here in a year.”

Lat night I met Adrian’s mom. “Will you sign this for my son?” she asked. “He’s struggled with addiction for years and now he’s homeless,” she said. “But I believe he’s coming back to God.”

Inefficient. Time consuming. Tear jerking. Heart breaking. Mind stumping. Jesus.

This is what autograph lines are missing. Annie. Adrian. Beyond the handshake and exchange of first names is inspiration, pain, purpose and the opportunity to pray.

Will you please pray with me for Adrian and Annie?

Thank you.