Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Raised from the Dead

Today I have two stories. One I wrote and the other is a true story I was told by the person involved.


We had been hiking for days. It was a celebration of our childhood. We had all been scouts and done this many times. Planning the route, the overnight stops, the meals. We had all become springbok scouts. We knew exactly what we were doing even though it had been a few years since that ceremony. We knew what to watch for in weather patterns and how to survive if things went wrong. The problem with a lot of training these days is that's its done in a closed environment where everything can be controlled. Out here in the mountains we were on our own with very little control. The weather was one of those uncontrollables. The clouds had moved in rapidly. They were dark and nasty and we were no where close to shelter. Just as we picked up the pace the rain started. At first it was a drizzle, then it began to bucket down. The path began to get slippery and we knew we were in trouble. Despite our training pride pushed us forward. We wanted to get to shelter.

Suddenly there was a might crack. I could feel myself lift off my feet from a mighty jolt and then nothing.

I slowly came round. I had a throbbing headache. My face was covered with water. I wiped my eyes so I could see better and saw blood on my hand. I must have hit a rock with my head. I looked around and saw the others stirring. We must have been near a lightning strike. I could smell the sulfur, I could also smell something else. It was burnt flesh. I jumped to my feet and then I saw Jack. He was lying a distance away and was not moving. I raced towards him with the others close behind. What we all saw confirmed our worst fears. Jack had taken the force of the lightning. His feet were burn to a crisp and almost unrecognizable. I bent to check his pulse. Nothing. Tears started to mix with the rainwater and blood. We all stood immobile. Just standing.

I saw movement to my left. It was another group of hikers. They came directly to us and then I recognized the leader. It was Jesus. He did not say a word. He knelt next to Jack and took his hand and bowed his head as if in prayer while water streamed down his face. At first I could not believe my eyes. Jacks feet began to transform. At first slowly and then at a rapid rate. The burn crisps changed to normal feet with skin and toes. As I  watching I heard a cough as Jack spluttered to life. Jesus had risen the dead it what was impossible circumstances. Jesus stood and began to leave with his group. I then noticed the rain had stopped and the clouds had gone.

Cliff, a man I admired who has passed away once told me the below story.

Cliff was preaching in a tent in Harare Zimbabwe to a large crowd. He was worked up and giving what he felt was a really brilliant sermon. He was in the middle of his sermon when down the isle came a mother and father carrying their motionless son. It was the norm for Cliff to pray for healing. He did it all the time. I had witnessed a leg grow when he prayed for one young man. The couple with their son however was disturbing a really good sermon. He quickly prayed for what he thought was a sick boy and then carried on preaching. That night he had a really good response from the crowd.

The next morning the interpreter explain to a shocked Cliff that the boy had been dead for a number of hours. After Cliff had prayed and the family had gone outside the boy had revived. The entire community heard the story and were very moved. Cliff said quite frankly that if he had known the boy was dead he would not have prayed for him.

God works in mysterious ways.


Greg hay