“Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High, will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. l will say to the Lord, “He is my rescue and my fortress, my God in whom I trust. He will save you from the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence”
As I was wheeled into the emergency room, my dear wife Gloria held my hand tightly as she whispered these beautiful words contained in Psalm 91 over and over, hoping somehow that I too, will take them to heart. But alas, despite all her effort, my mind was once again trying to take control and all I thought of, was the symptoms I was experiencing, and the extent of heart failure I had developed. And even when my son continued to encourage me, as he has so often done recently, to hand over to others, the physician in me held firm, forcing me to stay on symptoms and prognosis. I was indeed, in the midst of a severe, overwhelming storm and afraid that I could neither control, or even cope, with its fury.
I was admitted promptly and started on IV therapy to contain the rapidly developing symptoms and induce some degree of stability. –The doctors were concerned, and so was I!
The night was something I shall always remember, not only for enormous quantity of fluid that I was able to produce, but even more so, by what went on in my mind as the night progressed. Although I have for years come to terms with the inevitability of death, and had made peace with the fact that death was not the end, but merely a part of our journey to eternity, yet, throughout that entire night, despite being given a sedative, and against my better judgment, I was a helpless victim of the storm raging within me. I wondered whether this was the storm that will finally take me; it certainly felt like it might. And much to my disappointment, I did not react as I planned to do, and accept it gracefully and expectantly. Instead, I worried about my wife and my children and how they will cope with this sudden loss. Once again, I failed that venerable test, and refused to follow that simple, but all-powerful advice which has served so many for as long as there has been recorded history: “To let go and let God.”
But something happened during the night that had a profound effect on me. I had dosed off when I suddenly became aware of a strange presence. It repeated the same words from Psalm 91 that my wife had done earlier, but in such a beautiful melody that continues to ring in my ears, and is indelibly imprinted in my psyche:
“He is my rescue and my fortress, my God in whom I trust. He will save you from the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence”
To this day, I am not sure whether this experience was a natural event and I had just remembered my wife’s words, or as many will describe it as a transformative experience from some external, spiritual source. Although I at this point am not able to be absolutely sure what happened, but whatever the source, I awoke far more calm, and willing to accept whatever the outcome that occurs.
As I mulled this over, I clearly remembered the experience of my late brother, who more than 30 years ago, while he was seriously ill and an impatient of the Ottawa General hospital, behaved so badly that his recovery was seriously compromised. In extreme desperation, my sister, who resided in Ottawa, called me for help. I travelled to Ottawa, the next day, arriving at about 6pm. I was met by my brother-in-law who took me directly to the hospital. To my absolute surprise, as I entered the room, I found him calm, cheerful and very positive. He then related his experience of the night before when he insisted, he was visited by Jesus Christ, dressed in white robes and they had a long discussion. Since that day, and for the succeeding 3 years of his life, he remained a model in patience and happiness despite his progressive deterioration. To him, and to everyone else, this was indeed a transformative experience.
And then, there was also the experience of my son who as a child suffered a serious heart problem for which there was no treatment at the time. He was referred to an electrophysiologist who had planned to try ablation. Unfortunately, the attempt failed and he was sent to the ICU. He was by then in a state of uncontrolled fear. That night he is convinced he was visited by Jesus, who reassured him that all will be well. The next morning, he woke up calm and not afraid anymore, and was then subsequently discharged a few days later. He continues to be sure, very much like his uncle, that he was visited by Jesus.
To this day I am still somewhat skeptical about giving these experiences a truly spiritual etiology. The doctor in me continues to search for a psychological or physiological answer without much success. But this much I know, that these experiences are real and are consistent, and the results they produce are positive and lasting.
The literature overflows with examples and experiences of such incidents, all of which seem to follow the same pattern of somehow dramatically altering conditions of despair to hope, of despondency to confidence, and of fear and inadequacy to strength and optimism. Psychologists, as well as wide range of other specialties generally acknowledge the validity of these incidents, without necessarily accepting them to be spiritual.
For my own self, I find it difficult to reject the explanation that these special experiences all have some degree of spiritual involvement, and that the hand of the Almighty may play a significant role in their occurrences. Suffice it to say that we are as yet a long way from finding the answer. Perhaps the following comment by an Unknown author may offer some help:
“Sacred and scared are spelt with the same letters.
Awful proceeds from the same root derivative as awesome, as do terrifying and terrific.
Every negative experience holds the seed of transformation.”
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