[Faith-talk] Good Night Message for Tuesday, January 8, 2013

[Paul]

Hello and good evening to my fellow saints of the Most High God residing in North America, and a good Wednesday to the rest of you.  I hope and pray that, by God's matchless grace and His providential care, that your evening, morning or afternoon are going well.

I'll admit that last night's good night message article was a little long, and today we have a story for you written by a lady who identifies herself as Lisa P.  Her contribution is entitled "My Visitor" and is rendered as follows:

New Year's Eve, 1999.  Not a time of celebration for me.  I was in a hospital bed, crying as if there were no end to my tears.  All I wanted to do was sleep, to try to forget what had happened.  I curled up under the blankets, feeling cold in the air-conditioned room.  I throbbed with pain from 36 stitches in my neck and 45 in my arm.  I'd been attacked by a man I once loved and trusted.  He'd used a large utility knife from the factory where we both worked.  He wanted to kill me and almost succeeded.  The doctor said the knife missed my jugular vein by a centimeter.  Somehow I got to the phone and called 911.

A day had passed since the attack.  A long, lonely day.  The new year begins tomorrow, I thought.  What could it possibly have in store for me? I was afraid of what lay ahead.  The police told me the man had been arrested after fleeing my house.  But what would he do when he got out of jail? Would he come after me to finish what he'd started? I had no one to talk to.  Not even a stranger in the next bed.  No one visited.  People didn't phone me.  I guess our friends at work felt awkward.  Maybe they were scared or just didn't want to get involved.  My family was too far away.  This wasn't something I could explain over the phone.  The nurse checked up on me every now and then, but I couldn't burden her with the ugliness of my personal life.  Lying in the darkened room I could still hear my attacker's words:  "No one will miss you when you're dead!" Dear God, dear Jesus, angels in heaven! If you can hear me, please show me he wasn't right.  Did anyone care about me?

Sleep came in fits and starts.  I woke up crying and dozed off crying.  I opened my eyes and looked at the clock.  It was the middle of the night.  A golden glow floated in through the window.  The light was warm somehow, a comfort in the chilly room.  The holiday decorations outside the hospital, I thought.  I laid my head against my hands on the pillow.

The bed shifted slightly.  Someone had sat down beside me.  I glanced up.  My nurse? No.  The door was closed.  No one had come into my room.  What was happening? All around me was the golden glow I'd seen through the window.  The glow I thought had come from holiday lights outside.  A hand touched my shoulder, but I wasn't startled.  The touch was warm, like the glow in the room.

Someone spoke:  "Don't be afraid.  I care about you." They weren't words exactly, nor was it a voice, but I understood.  The message played sweetly in my head, like strings on a violin.  "You are loved.  You will never be alone for I am with you."

I turned.  Sitting beside me was a man like no other I'd ever seen, and more beautiful than anyone on earth.  In my heart and soul I knew who he was.  I had known him all my life.  Jesus.  He opened his arms and I fell against him.

The warmth of his embrace felt as if it also came from somewhere deep inside myself.  I felt safe.  I cried with relief.  Seconds? Minutes? I don't know how long he was there at my side, holding me.  It seemed like forever.  Then he kissed my forehead and was gone.

That night I slept like a baby wrapped in her mother's arms.  When I awoke the next morning I remembered my visitor.  I remembered his embrace.  He sat beside me when no one else did.  He comforted me when I wept.  He took away my fear.  Best of all, I knew he would always be with me.  The new year, and my new life, began that very day.

You know, folks, I was deliberating on whether I should share this story with you because of the somewhat graphic nature of its beginning, but the Lord told me to share it because some of you ladies perhaps have undergone same experiences.  I won't ask you to relate them, as they may be too painful.  However, I pray that this story ministered to your spirits.

And now may the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob just keep us safe, individually and collectively, throughout this night or day and especially in these last days in which we live.  Your Christian friend and brother, Paul