A number of years ago, after being born again for only a
year or so, I was living on my 55’ Clipper Bow Ketch
Sailboat, and working at a steel shop in the day, and
stopping by “The Union Gospel Mission” each night, hoping
to minister to some street person as My Father in Heaven
would direct.

This became a routine for a couple of years,
and in the middle of it, I had a fire aboard my vessel. So
the pastor at the UGM, having another ministry called “The
House of the Good Sheppard” a home for street people
wishing to get away from the street after becoming born
again, Put me up for a while. It was great because now I
just lived with the “Thirsty”.

Then one day at work, I was walking behind the great and
massive metal shear, on top of a pile of sheared steel
pieces, and strips, only to twist my ankle. Immediately I
felt the pain of a knife stab into one of my ligaments as
it was torn. I knew that I was in trouble, and prayed to my
Father in heaven that it would be OK.

I hobbled over to my bench and paused for about 5
minutes praying, and hoping. I then felt that I could
proceed with my work as the rest of the day was to be spent
at my bench sitting on my stool, and welding product. That
whole time till the end of the workday, about an hour, my
ankle had a medium pain. But as I drove home the 37 Km
through rush hour traffic, with my right foot somewhat
elevated and operating the gas and break peddles with my
left foot, the pain started to escalate to near unbearable.

Arriving at “The House of The Good Sheppard”, all that I
could do was to crawl out of my car and drag my self up the
steps top the door, all the while moaning and groaning,
with great grunts of effort and struggle. A couple of the
fellows in the house had noticed and came to drag me in and
sitting me down at the kitchen table proceeded to pepper me
with questions about “what happened to you”. With great
effort I tried to explain, and then asked if they could
help me to the bath tube where I could spend some time
soaking, as I felt that this would be best.

In the tub, and feeling alone, started to cry out to my God,
“Oh Father please help me . . . take this pain away . . . I
love you . . . I can’t stand the pain . . .” On and on,
louder and louder, until the scorching hot water of the
bathtub was suddenly chilly. I needed to get to my bed, and
exiting the bath room into the quietness of the hall way
and seeing the fellows sitting around the kitchen table,
heads bowed, I realized that I had, as it were, and
unaware, demanded their prayers as well.

As I lay in bed, and just as I was about to be blessed with an exhausted
entry to sleep, my last prayers move from crying in agony,
to, “Lord, all I have done was twist my ankle, and listen
to me. You my Lord suffered much greater pain.
Jesus you were whipped.
They spat on you.
Oh, Christ how they beat you.
Your beard was ripped from your face.
Oh, Jesus you suffering was greater than that of any man.”
As I was drifting off, I asked
“Lord, please forgive my of my petty crying,
for my, insignificant injury”. . .

. . .
I slowly came to. Very slowly awoke. Thinking that I was
thirsty, and needing to go to the fridge for a drink. It
was about, the middle of the morning, and maybe 3 ish, as I
sleepily and steadily walked out of my room and as I
entered the living room, saw a fellow we called Pops,
sitting in the easy boy chair. His eyes opening from a deep
sleep. And coming down the stairs was another fellow, not
knowing why he was up, and from the back of the house came
the last resident, asking what all the noise was about,
when we were actually quite quiet.

As I spoke next saying hi guys, Pops pipes up “Hey, your
walking, and your not crying.” At which point we all
clambered, with “ Thanks to Jesus” and made such a ruckus,
I’m not sure if we woke the neighbors or not.

I believe our God, had allowed all to happen,

and even had us all in the same room,

at that hour in the morning,

to see the power of his love for us,

and his healing power.

Maybe he even wanted to show Me,

it is also about,

how we pray.

Thank-you Jesus, for every moment with you, and even the
ones we get to share with others

Yank those from the flame, instruct the young in the way they should go.

And Pray . . . unceasingly . . .

. . . Thank-you Jesus

To which I replied, "Well, I think that I would like to be like Jesus, but I don't think I would like to be a Christian".

This is some kind of statement, yes?

Bradley SaintJohn
www.SeedsOfHopeMinistries.com