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A
serious car accident in the winter of 1989 changed my attitude
completely regarding whether or not there is a God.
On that day, my knees felt as if they were about to buckle
when I observed my body lying below me.
Then, a spiritual escort said six short words to me.
I was taken on a journey that I will never forget.
Much
later during this passage, a path took all of us to a bridge
spanning clear, running water.
As we moved along this path, we all were moving much closer
to a white light. While on this bridge, I was confronted by another angel in
a white robe. I
simply would not allow myself to concede that this Angel could
possibly be greater than any other angel.
A question remained with me… Did this Angel touch me?
This
Angel, alone, had the power to give me life, or leave me to face
judgment. I knew that
at this impending judgment I would not have a prayer.
None.
I
was also fully aware that this Angel had the ability to impact the
outcome of my healing, if I were only allowed to get that far.
I
wanted to live. I was
willing to mend my selfish, self-centered ways, if only…
I
felt guilt beyond words. It was only then I realized because of my resistance for
the first 29 years of my life, I had effectively asked Him not
to touch me.
He
clearly held control of this situation in His hands.
The
question still remained with me… Did He touch me?
I
knew that soon, so much more than I had ever imagined possible to
lose was soon to face peril.
Peril of a magnitude, that only the day before, I had never
given serious consideration.
Despite
my lack of seeking His face for all those years, He reached out to
me by coming to me on that bridge.
At that time, I did not want Him to leave me.
Now, I know He never will.
Looking
back, I was clearly given much more patience and time through each
step of this journey than I deserved.
He
changed my life, starting from there.
He did this, not by touching me with His hand, but by
touching me with His Holy Spirit.
Afterward,
I was hospitalized for months.
My medical records documented that I “often cried,”
during physical therapy. What
was not captured on paper was that I had no other way to express,
or communicate the pain.
And
still, my body healed long before my soul.
I
realize years later that I had to suffer, or I would have
dismissed this entire event and simply gone back to my former way
of thinking. He knew
me better than I knew myself.
Now, my attitude is that I cannot… or rather, I will not
disappoint Him again.
Thank
you, Lord Jesus, for answering my repeated prayers.
I realize now that I did not ever pray before this
accident. Recently,
my prayers have ended with, “Take me, shape me, mold me into the
man you wish me to be.”
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