“Coming Off the Death Bed”

by:  Jeffery Moore

This event took place when I was around 16-17 years of age, which coincidentally is about 17 years ago. I was attending a local Church of God church, looking for my spirituality, trying to find my ‘place’ to worship. I have many fond memories of that Church. It was small with very few members and that made for a very close knit bunch. The local pastor was also the Bishop, in fact he was the representing Bishop for the US. Now, understand this is a small ‘sect’ of the Church of God, but his knowledge and his power as the US Bishop was amazing, and at times could be daunting, especially for someone like me about to expose a gift and not fully knowing how it would be accepted. Excommunication, while better known in the Catholic Church, is still practiced by many Christian denominations, and I definitely wasn’t going to be looking for that.

It was a Sunday morning, and worship was well underway, when we all stood to sing. A visiting Bishop was standing next to Bishop Ware just to the left of the pulpit/stage if you were facing the pulpit. I was center of the right aisle, on the other side of the Church.

As I stood to sing, I felt a little different, I wasn’t for sure what was going on, but stood anyway as the singing was starting. Immediately, once I was standing completely, I realised that I needed to speak to the visiting Bishop. I didn’t know his name, or where he was from exactly, it was the first time he was at the Church. A brief introduction happened earlier, but I didn’t really pay attention (sorry).

The longer I stood there, the more I knew I needed to speak to this Bishop. Inside my head, ideas were racing, including calling myself a complete nut. There was absolutely no way I was going to walk across the Church floor to go speak to a visiting Bishop that I didn’t even know! I was convinced I couldn’t do it, and even closed my eyes to stop looking in that direction, but the more I looked, the more I felt drawn to go over there and speak to him. I didn’t even know why I needed to speak to him, or even what I would say. I stood there, slightly swaying, with my eyes closed, and a full argument with myself in motion. A voice calling out to me to go, it wouldn’t relent, it insisted I must go, but I was fighting as hard as I could.

“What is it my son?” I heard asked of me, with my eyes closed. Shocked at hearing this different voice, I opened my eyes and realised that I WAS standing in front of the very Bishop that I had been arguing with myself and the voice of not speaking to! He looked down at me in concern and reached out his hand. I took his hand, scared to death, not knowing of how to explain it all to him, much less Bishop Ware!

As we took each others’ hands, I immediately began to cry, tears streaming from my face. He again asked what was wrong and at that very moment I felt a change in me. It almost felt as if sitting inside myself, as I could see him and hear what I was saying, but it wasn’t me! This is the message that I heard coming from me, but not me:

The Lord, Your God, has heard your pleas, and even now will answer your prayers. Your wife is on her deathbed, but the Lord says she will walk again.
Now, how do you explain yourself after those words come out of your mouth? His wife wasn’t at Church, I had never met her, didn’t know for sure he was married, never even thought to wonder. Yet, these words did come from me, and to my surprise, his hands began to tremble in mine.

As I “regained” myself, I looked up at the Bishop, and realised tears were streaming from his face too! All I could think was, “Ok, you’ve don’t it now, their gonna kick you out, call you a devil worshipper, and possibly more!” Strangely, I felt at peace at the same time my brain was running over one hundred miles an hour. Then, I realised the music had stopped. The visiting Bishop had held up his other hand, and stopped the music, now I was scared.

This visiting Bishop proceeded to tell of how his wife wasn’t there with him, that she had been sick for a long time, on her deathbed. He told that he had only mentioned that she was sick only to Bishop Ware, and yet received a message through me that she would walk again. Ok, a small sigh of relief, before the real worry set in. The entire Church was immediately in a celebration spirit, and I breathed a sigh of relief again, but still had some worries!

“Ok, so let’s say she doesn’t walk again, where am I at then?” I asked this and many, many more questions of myself on my way home and even more as I got home. I decided that going back was not an option, so the next Sunday, when Bishop Ware called to make sure I was coming, I made up some lame excuse. Then, two Sundays after the event had transpired, Bishop Ware called again. Once again, nervous, I made up another lame excuse. Bishop Ware, I believe realised my hesitation of ever returning, informed me that Sunday night, that night, I would be there, and he would personally pick me up–no excuses! I said ok, but I was really thinking “Awwwl Shit!” No joke.

That Sunday night, right as services were about to start, I noticed the visiting Bishop make his way to the front to sit next to Bishop Ware. I couldn’t help it, a feeling of “Awwwl Shit,” ran through my head when I saw him. Fortunately, services ran as normal, so my paranoia of being called before the Church got to run full course! I dreamed up of one million and one ways to escape, in case it got ugly. Then, right towards the end of the service, I hear it. “Jeff, would you come up to the front, please,” Brother Ware said calmly and with a grin. Yep, you guessed it, another ‘Awwwwl Shit,’ ran through my head. Reluctantly, and with encouragement from Bishop Ware, I went up front.

Bishop Ware, I noticed, smiled at the visiting Bishop, I wish I knew his name, and began orating to the Church of what had happened two weeks earlier. The visiting Bishop approached, and I believe it had to be visibly aware, I was scared. He had for some reason, gone to the other end of the Church where the doors are leading into the foyer. He was approaching me, tears streaming down his face, but smiling. He then moved over to the side, and I could see a little frail lady humbly walking behind him, he had blocked me from seeing her until they got closer to the altar.

Immediately I am crying, and so is everyone else. Bishop Ware announces that all things are possible, if we listen to God. All of us at the altar are hugging and smiling and crying all at the same time. Soon, after we all calm down some, the visiting Bishop, hugs me and says thank you. Immediately I responded without thinking, “Don’t thank me, I was only a messenger.” I explained the emotional roller coaster and debates about telling him and how, somehow, I ended up in front of him giving him the message, against my better judgement. He laughed and said that great things can happen if we listen to the Lord, but sometimes, when we protest, He’ll just take over and do what needs to be done how He sees fit, which is itself a message, one for me…

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose. (KJV – Romans 8:28)