It’s a miracle!
“Ministry Musings,” a series about some humorous and serious stories in my life as a pastor.
I believe in miracles. After all, I’m a pastor. I’m supposed to believe in miracles, right? With a lot of experience, study and discernment, I have learned that not every claim about miracles is true.
Sadly, some people claim miraculous powers to gain influence or income. I’m not talking about that today. That’s a whole other conversation.
I want to tell you a story in my own experience. In 1972, I’m a new pastor at a small church in a small desert town west of Bakersfield, California.
The congregation of 100 has several really traditional members and several really Pentecostal members. The traditional members were not much for divine healing, speaking in tongues, predictive prophecy, etc. The Pentecostal members were convinced that all of that was relevant in modern times.
It’s a congregational work day. You know, repair the building, trim the bushes and trees, deep clean the sanctuary. There are about 15 people participating, a mix of both groups.
Rudy, a man in his 60s, is trimming a tree while standing on a six-foot aluminum ladder. His foot slips and as he falls, the sharp edge of one of the ladder steps rips open his shin.
Everyone gathers around Rudy. I get a quick glimpse at his severely bleeding leg and quickly turn toward my office to call an ambulance. No cell phones in 1972.
As I move away from the crowd around Rudy, I hear the beginnings of prayer for him. Racing through my mind are the twin ideas that prayer and a call for medical help are a good combination.
Just after I hang up from my call for assistance, I hear the ambulance siren from our nearby hospital heading our way. It’s a small town. Responses are quick.
As I head back to Rudy, both he and several others are joyfully praising the Lord. I do a double take as Rudy is on his feet, practically dancing.
I make my way through the happy cluster to see Rudy’s torn and bloody pants. His leg is completely normal. No sign of any damage or injury, but his pants are ruined. I am trying to sort this out and make sense of it.
I am by nature skeptical of some of the claims about miraculous healing. I have seen too much of the charlatans who fake divine healing. But my eyes were not playing tricks on me. There was no deception here. Rudy’s leg was in perfect condition, although his pants were torn and bloody.
About this time, the ambulance comes screaming up to the church, lights and sirens. Oh boy! Too much, too fast.
I give Rudy’s leg another, closer look to confirm what I saw. I then mumble an apology to the ambulance crew for what they view as a false alarm.
I haven’t seen anything like that in all the rest of my life. Nevertheless, there it was. Something unexplainable by normal standards. It was truly miraculous. I still believe in miracles.