Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

Miracles Are for Real: What Happens When Heaven Touches Earth
Miracles Are for Real: What Happens When Heaven Touches Earth
Miracles Are for Real: What Happens When Heaven Touches Earth
Ebook259 pages5 hours

Miracles Are for Real: What Happens When Heaven Touches Earth

Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars

4.5/5

()

Read preview

About this ebook

Biblical Teaching on Miracles Reveals God's Power at Work in the World Today

Readers are fascinated with miraculous and unexplained events. In their signature style, trusted pastor Jim Garlow and writer Keith Wall tap into that fascination with biblical insights on miracles and accounts of God's work throughout history. The book clearly separates truth from fiction, fortifying readers' faith in God's power in their lives. The encouraging and inspiring stories make this a great impulse buy and gift.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateNov 1, 2011
ISBN9781441233905
Miracles Are for Real: What Happens When Heaven Touches Earth
Author

James L. Garlow

Jim Garlow, PhD is the Senior Pastor at Skyline Wesleyan Church in San Diego and is heard daily on The Garlow Perspective, which is broadcast on over 800 radio outlets nationwide. The author of numerous books, including the bestseller Cracking Da Vinci’s Code, he has served as the national chairman of Pulpit Initiative, which spearheads the yearly Pulpit Freedom Sunday – a national movement involving pastors and attorneys who are focused on religious freedom – in conjunction with the Alliance Defending Freedom.

Read more from James L. Garlow

Related to Miracles Are for Real

Related ebooks

Christianity For You

View More

Related articles

Reviews for Miracles Are for Real

Rating: 4.333333333333333 out of 5 stars
4.5/5

3 ratings0 reviews

What did you think?

Tap to rate

Review must be at least 10 words

    Book preview

    Miracles Are for Real - James L. Garlow

    Cover

    When was the last time you hoped for and prayed for a miracle?

    A better question: When was the last time you witnessed or even received a miracle in your life?

    Frequently we hear the words What we need is a miracle! They come from:

    friends and family at the bedside of a sick loved one

    couples huddled over the stack of monthly bills at the kitchen table

    farmers in the grip of a crippling drought

    parents heartsick over their wayward child

    people unemployed and desperate for a paycheck

    spouses clinging to a hope they can keep their marriage together

    In fact, we hear pleas for a miracle any time we hope for something marvelous, wondrous, extraordinary, and amazing to happen—something that will meet our deepest needs and desires in an instant of supernatural intervention.

    Many are infatuated with the notion that miracles happen, but do most people really believe they do? Or is the idea primarily a relic of a primitive, superstitious past? Do apparent miracles point to a deeper spiritual reality, or are they merely evidence of the human capacity for wishful thinking and self-delusion?

    After all, we pride ourselves on being rational people, swayed only by hard evidence and measurable results. By definition, miracles boggle the mind, astound the senses, stagger the imagination, and, yes, defy reason. What place can they possibly have in a society populated by seasoned skeptics and doubters of all things paranormal?

    In short, are miracles real? If the answer is yes, then what do we make of them in today’s world?

    These are among the questions we’ll address as we explore God’s powerful and miraculous presence, even in spiritually malnourished times. Along the way, we’ll present true-life stories—told accurately and authentically—about people who have experienced miracles.

    In Jesus’ day, people turned out by the thousands to see and receive miracles of every kind. He healed their diseases, turned water to wine, walked on stormy seas, fed a multitude with little more than a sack lunch—even gave life back to dead people. Who wouldn’t drop everything and rush to the countryside to see such things? Who wouldn’t believe in miracles afterward? If only we’d been there too!

    Well, for anyone yearning to know the truth about miracles, there’s good news: Time travel isn’t necessary. After examining hundreds of real-life stories told by ordinary people, we’ve confirmed what we all secretly hope—that life-changing miracles do still occur, and with surprising frequency. Inexplicable events that confound logic, and often the very laws of science as we currently understand them, still offer unmistakable evidence of God’s daily involvement in our lives.

    We have come to believe, and hope you will, too, that miracles are not the few and far between phenomena we’ve taken them to be, reserved for supposed saints and on extraordinary occasions. Miracles just might be more tightly woven into the fabric of our reality than we recognize. C. S. Lewis once said: Miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see.[1]

    As you read on, we think you’ll come to agree with his assessment. Each of the following chapters features a true story of someone who experienced a miracle. In many cases, one of us personally knows the individual being profiled. In other instances, the people were referred to us by someone whose credibility and integrity we trust.

    Also included in each chapter is a closer look at some aspect of miracles that sparks interest within nearly everyone’s heart, dealing with issues such as whether or not we can persuade God to act, how angels carry out heavenly missions, and why some people experience one miracle or many miracles and others none at all.

    Our purposes are simple and straightforward. We want to show that:

    God is alive, well, and intensely interested in your life. Some people, especially in times of hardship and heartache, feel that God is a distant observer, nonchalant about the details of our personal daily existence. A close examination of modern-day miracles will prove resoundingly otherwise. Whether you’re in need of minor or major intervention, God cares deeply about your needs and circumstances. To put it more directly, God cares deeply about you.

    Not only do miracles happen, but they still happen today. Throughout recorded history, miracles have taken a place among the most revered accounts and narratives. Some people call these myths, folklore, or legends. To others, miracle stories represent God’s mighty handiwork among his creation. We believe the Bible is our true guide for every aspect of life; it’s God’s message to humankind, and it’s our reliable source for wisdom and guidance regarding miracles.

    Regarding the supernatural, the best way to live—the only way to live—is to believe that a miracle could happen at any moment. The cliché says, Hope springs eternal. But this isn’t always true. In our most trying times, it’s easy to lose hope and give in to despair. The stories and subject matter of this book are intended to show that God is fully capable of doing a great work in your life or the life of someone you love. Every word in the pages to follow affirms and validates what the apostle Paul said: God is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us.[2] To anyone who has a dreamed-for desire, a desperate plea, or a dire need, these are words to live by.

    If it’s a miracle you need, and you wonder whether God could do something phenomenal in your life, keep reading, and hold on to those words: immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine.

    On a cold and snowy Sunday evening in March 1990, Curt Jensen’s nerves were frayed before the youth choir road trip he was in charge of even left the parking lot.

    Eighty-plus junior high teens from Denver’s Rocky Mountain Community Church were finally corralled and loaded into a tour bus and passenger van. It seemed enough luggage to last a year had been stowed. Curt, the youth pastor, made one last head count and one last check to ensure he had everything needed to play ringmaster to this traveling circus over the coming eight days. After months of planning, their concert tour of Idaho at last was set for takeoff.

    Curt was accompanied by his pregnant wife, Lori, and a handful of adult chaperones. Among them was Karen Wilson, owner and operator of the sound equipment packed into the caravan’s third vehicle, a Chevy Blazer on loan from a congregation member. Her husband, Gil, stayed behind to work, but their two kids—Jackie (eight) and Johnny (six)—had come along for the excursion. Karen volunteered to drive the Blazer so the children could sleep in the backseat through the long night ahead.

    The group originally had planned to get underway the following morning but decided to leave early, hoping to cover ground ahead of a winter storm that was forecast to arrive over the next few hours. As the bus driver closed the door and released the air brakes, the first snowflakes were starting to swirl in the headlights. Curt took his seat in the van and sincerely hoped for a little shut-eye sometime before the sun reappeared.

    It was a wish that would not come true.

    As the convoy headed north on I-25, the van and the Blazer struggled to keep up. Intermittent flurries and gusting winds made driving trickier than usual and put them at a disadvantage compared to the heavy bus and its professional driver. At a fuel stop in Cheyenne, Wyoming, they decided to give up trying to stay together. They’d rendezvous again in a few hours at a landmark truck stop in Evanston, near the Utah border.

    Also, Karen reluctantly admitted she was too sleepy to continue driving through the night; Curt agreed to take over while she slept in the bus. One of the chaperones, Dennis, would ride shotgun to keep him company. Jackie and Johnny stayed put in the Blazer, already asleep under blankets.

    From Cheyenne, they turned west on I-80 through the rolling short-grass prairie and sagebrush of southern Wyoming. It was windswept country at the best of times, but past midnight, with the storm gaining strength, it seemed a desolate and empty wilderness. Snowfall increased steadily, and patches of black ice—invisible and treacherous—began to make themselves known without warning on the highway. Driving in the lead, Curt slowed to around forty.

    We’d passed through Laramie and Rawlins with no problems, he said. Then, about twenty-five miles east of Rock Springs, we came up to a spot where the interstate curved to the right. I turned the wheel and touched the brakes, but the Blazer just kept going straight. We were on black ice, and there was nothing I could do.

    As the front driver’s-side tire left the pavement, it hit soft snow and dug in, coming to a sudden stop. The Blazer instantly started to roll, carried forward by its momentum. Curt braced against the steering wheel, helpless to do anything but ride it out.

    The vehicle flipped three times in a sickening thunder of buckling metal, breaking glass, and the whump of equipment crashing around. The Blazer came to rest on its roof. Curt was rattled yet not injured, hanging head-down in his seat belt.

    Dennis, momentarily knocked unconscious, quickly came to when Curt called his name. He’d bumped his head and suffered just a bruised shoulder. They could hear Johnny crying in the backseat.

    After seeing we were both okay, I told Dennis we had to get the kids out, Curt recalled. We opened the doors and got ourselves free. It was pitch black, except for the headlights and the dome light, which struck me as a strange sight, shining up from the ground like that.

    They freed Johnny from his seat belt and rapidly checked him over for injuries. Aside from a small forehead cut, he appeared to be unharmed. By this time, the van had come to a safe stop ahead of the scene. Curt passed Johnny to its driver to get him out of the freezing cold.

    But it took no time to determine that Jackie was not in her seat. They searched in the back where the speakers and amplifiers lay in a jumble. She wasn’t there either. The glass was gone from the window where she’d been resting her head.

    I knew then she must have been thrown from the vehicle, and we started hunting all around in the snow, Curt said. "We couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t even tell which direction we’d come from. We searched and called her name but found nothing. I was close to losing it, thinking over and over, What have I done?"

    By then, several passing truck drivers had stopped to help. They brought flashlights and pitched in to comb the ground in every direction. Still, they found no trace of the girl.

    Finally, someone suggested the unthinkable—that Jackie might be under the Blazer. Curt, Dennis, and six or eight truckers managed to turn it onto its side. Flashlights converged on the sight they dreaded above any other: Jackie lay in the snow, horribly injured. Cuts covered her face and arms, and blood ran from her nose. Her skin was blue, and her head appeared to be crushed. Her disfigured arm obviously was broken.

    She looked dead, Curt remembered. She wasn’t moving or breathing. I’d had CPR training, so without even thinking I dropped beside her to see if I could find a heartbeat. I put my ear to her face and couldn’t hear a breath, but I did detect a very faint pulse. I thanked God that at least there was still a chance.

    He immediately began administering cardiopulmonary resuscitation, enlisting others to compress Jackie’s chest at the appropriate times while he concentrated on breathing for her. After two or three minutes, she coughed, and Curt heard a gurgling sound in her chest when he blew air into her lungs. A trucker produced a piece of heavy cardboard, and they slid her onto it. Another brought blankets to wrap her broken body.

    Back at the van, three adults and fourteen teenagers cared for Johnny—and prayed with all their might.

    The clock itself seemed to freeze for the next eighty minutes, the time it took for an ambulance to come from Rock Springs. Icy conditions made speed impossible. Curt never left Jackie’s side, giving her continuous CPR. Her pulse remained faint, yet she was never able to breathe independently.

    When the ambulance finally arrived, there was a tense moment because it nearly slid off the road itself, Curt recalled. The crew took over and confirmed she had a slight pulse, but they said it was likely her lungs were collapsed. They checked the rest of us as well; we were fine. They moved her to the ambulance, and I rode with them to the hospital in Rock Springs.

    State police gave them an escort; they also issued an alert for officers to locate the bus on the road ahead and inform Lori and Karen about what had happened.

    Emergency room doctors confirmed what Curt intuitively had known: Jackie was bleeding internally, her lungs had collapsed, her skull was badly fractured, and her brain was hemorrhaging. She had a broken left arm and multiple cuts and contusions, several of which had required stitches. She still could not breathe on her own.

    It seemed like every fifteen minutes or so they came out and told me more bad news, Curt recalled. In essence they said she probably wouldn’t live. I felt lost, but by this time the van had gotten there, and I remember the waiting room was full of teenagers, all on their knees praying.

    Three hours later, the decision was made to airlift Jackie to a children’s hospital in Salt Lake City—but the winter storm had grounded all flights for the time being. It took another three hours before they had clearance to go. In the meantime, the authorities had caught up with the tour bus. Officers drove Karen and Lori all the way from Evanston, arriving before the helicopter touched down on the hospital roof.

    After the flight left for Salt Lake, I literally almost gave up, Curt said. I could barely even pray anymore. I was physically and emotionally exhausted, but there was a totaled vehicle to deal with, and I had to think about what to do with the sound equipment, how to care for the kids from the van, whether to continue on with the trip. To be honest, I wasn’t doing well.

    He went through the motions; he took the group to breakfast and did his best to comfort and reassure them. Inside, though, he was a tangle of guilt and doubt. How could he have missed the ice on the road? What could he have done differently to keep Jackie safe? Now she’d likely die or, if she survived, she’d be severely challenged for the rest of her life. Please, God, have mercy was the only prayer he could utter.

    Around one p.m., Curt called Lori from a pay phone, his hands shaking as he dialed the hospital. He was terrified of the news he might hear when his wife finally came to the phone. She answered at last.

    Yes, she said, the helicopter had arrived. Yes, she and Karen met the gurney as nurses wheeled it in. No, Jackie actually looked pretty good—she’d opened her eyes and said Mommy when Karen came to her side. Right, the doctors were shocked, since that’s not what they were told to expect, but after re-running all the tests, they couldn’t find anything wrong with her.

    "What? That can’t be," Curt stammered. He’d seen Jackie’s crushed body with his own eyes, had lifted her from the snow, had kept her alive for more than an hour when she couldn’t breathe by herself. He’d seen the looks on the doctors’ faces in Rock Springs when they’d told him not to hold out hope. What do you mean, she’s fine?

    I literally argued with my wife on the phone, he said. "It was very difficult for me to accept. I couldn’t be overjoyed at the news. I’d fallen so low I couldn’t get back to that place quickly. I just kept thinking, How? Of course, I knew there could only be one answer: God had healed her. But I’d seen too much that night to believe it right away."

    Five hours later, the crowded van arrived in Salt Lake City. When Curt walked into Jackie’s room, she sat up in bed, smiled, and said, Hi. The disfiguring injuries that had haunted his imagination were gone. Even her cuts and bruises looked minor and well on the way to healing.

    I didn’t know what to say, he remembered. Everyone was acting like it was no big deal, but I said, ‘You don’t understand!’ I just cried. I touched her head and her arm. I asked about her lungs and the bleeding. Absolutely no problems, they said. I got the feeling they thought I’d been exaggerating and that she’d never been as bad off as I said.

    What about the X-rays taken in the ER? In fact, doctors in Salt Lake initially were upset with doctors in Rock Springs—for sending the wrong results. Or perhaps they’d sent the wrong girl? All were eventually compelled to admit that somewhere, in the air over southwestern Wyoming, something miraculous had happened.

    Jackie was released after two days of observation. Karen took her kids home. The concerts proceeded as planned, and the choir performed for packed auditoriums all along the way. Word had spread of Jackie’s healing, and everyone wanted to hear the story.

    Many people came to the Lord for the first time that week, Curt said. But hearing what God had done for Jackie was just as meaningful for those who had been Christians for years. They’d never seen God’s power at work so up close and personal.

    As the tour caravan passed through Rock Springs

    Enjoying the preview?
    Page 1 of 1