Yvette, who is a young mother in Washington, D.C., recently told me her remarkable story, she wrote:
"It was the end. I knew it. I could no longer fight. I sat here emotionless. I was totally alone. Others had tried to help -- doctors, nurses, parents, husband, children. But they were gone. Hours earlier I had come into the hospital on an emergency basis. I had back pain so severe that at times, it dropped me to my knees. This was not my first hospital stay. I had been sick for a long time it seemed...
I sat in the bathroom. It was the middle of the night. No people, no "miracle" medicine, no strength left. I was too tired to fight. I sat there -- four walls surrounding me. And a bleak, monotonous "bleep" from my battery-operated IV filled the silence. I couldn't stop the sound of that miserable machine, anymore than I could control my own miserable life. So I sat there -- dull, miserable, in pain, with no hope.
Then I heard something else. I didn't hear it with my ears -- but I did in my spirit. I heard someone crying. And I immediately knew that it was Jesus crying for me. I was shocked -- totally surprised. I didn't think he would do that for me.
This experience did not leave me emotionally elated. Nor did I feel a physical touch. Life was the same, except I now knew I really was not in this battle alone. Jesus cared in a way my wildest imagination would never have hoped for or expected.
Slowly I got up and shuffled back to bed, my IV still "bleeping" in my ears. Life was the same but different entirely... When there was absolutely no one else that would help me, he cried for me...
Then, I remembered what you had told me during your visit, when you were leaving you said, pray always and never lose heart."BACK TO LIST