An Ordinary Life Touched by an Extraordinary God – Part 9

Something weird happened in my early thirties that probably had nothing to do with the cancer but everything to do with my health. I say weird because it came out of the blue—the doctor even had no explanation for it. I mention it here because I am a survivor of more than cancer but also to point out and emphasize that God’s hand has kept me all these years.

One evening several of us from the church went as a group to a revival service at a neighboring church. I left the kids home with their dad.  While standing during a song I felt weak and had to sit then realized I needed to lie down. My pastor had someone put a makeshift bed on the floor in the nursery and helped me there so I could be comfortable. I was grateful that the message was piped into the nursery. It was about heaven and I felt like I might be going there that very evening. My heart raced and I could only lie there and wonder what was happening to me.

Then an equally amazing thing occurred. My pulse slowed to a normal beat and I was able to get up and walk out to the car on my own. I felt tired but okay.

Thus began a pattern that happened many times over the following weeks. I saw my doctor, a general practitioner, and since he didn’t observe an episode he declared it was all in my imagination. I got the distinct feeling he thought me a hypochondriac at that point.

So I went about my life as usual, praying an episode wouldn’t occur while I was driving or teaching school. Now what I’m going to describe next may seem unusual—and it is—but I’m merely telling you what happened to me. And this isn’t easy, believe me.

We were in bed asleep when I awoke, my heart racing. I lay on my back waiting for it to cycle through and subside as usual but this night was different. I felt my spirit moving up my body starting with my toes. I sensed it was preparing to leave my body. Weird, huh? It seemed like the way someone would roll up a blanket. The word “irrevocable” played over and over in my mind AND I sensed Jesus standing at the head of the bed, arms outstretched. I couldn’t see Him except with my spiritual eyes and that image remains with me to this day. As clear as I saw it then.

But—when I sensed my spirit reaching my face, the thought assailed me: I can’t leave now. My husband is unsaved; my kids are too young. I need to be here. Instinctively I turned toward my husband, who slept soundly through it all, I might add. When I made that choice my spirit returned (for lack of a better word) to my body and my pulse went back to normal.  And Jesus left, although I knew His presence remains with me always.

If all this isn’t strange enough, though, my life took an even stranger turn a day or so later.

 Have you ever experienced something like this? I'd like to hear from you.