"Now Ask Me!"

He wasn't the "miracle boy" when I first saw him and said one word to him. He was a rather scruffy-appearing motorcycle boyfriend of the daughter of a lady who was conducting a spiritual class in her home. The daughter and boyfriend had showed up in mid-class and were waiting by the door until the class finished to ask her mother for some money.

I didn't know the boy, the daughter, or the mother. I had attended the class because the mother had passed a message through a mutual friend that she would love to have me at her class for moral support, it being her first attempt at spiritual teaching. It was 1977 and I was minister of the Unity Church in Daytona Beach, Florida.

My plan was to stay silent and not insert myself during her class. But at a certain point during one of the class-ending discussions I felt compelled to speak up and say, "There are no accidents!"

After the class ended and I was heading out, the motorcycle boyfriend stopped me on the threshold and asked, "There are no accidents?" My one word reply to him as I passed was, "No."

A couple weeks later, my next door neighbor knocked and informed me someone was on her phone for me. I didn't have my own home phone because when I wasn't running on the beach or swimming in the surf early in the morning I was spending the entire remainder of my day at the church.

On my neighbor's phone was the voice of the lady who had conducted the class. "When you were at my house.... Do you remember my daughter and the boy she was with?" I told her I remembered them. "He was in a terrible crash with his motorcycle! He is in the hospital and the doctors say his leg is ruined beyond hope and needs to be amputated. He is extremely depressed and asked you to come."

Walking back to my house my mind was in turmoil. I desperately wanted to respond ... but I had no way to get there. That hospital, I knew, was many miles away. I didn't own a car. My bicycle served my daily needs, which were much shorter distances.

The voice of our holy spirit suddenly said, "Go get high!"

Huh?

I answered, "Go swimming in the surf?" That was my idea of getting high. The inner voice said, "No. Go meditate."

I went into my house, into the kitchen, and stood there for a while chanting and meditating. At a certain point I guess I was "high" enough because the voice said, "Now, go lay down."

I went and laid on the living room floor on the rug, still in a somewhat meditative state. The voice said, "Now ask me?"

Huh? Ask what? How was I to ask? What words to use? Finally I just said, "Father, do your thing!"

As I spoke those words, a bolt of lightening went through my body, lifted me off the floor, went right to the boy in the hospital, and set me back down again.

I jumped up totally startled. But as I was jumping up three certainties flashed in quick succession in my mind. I was certain I didn't have to physically go to the hospital after all, my part was done. I was certain he was healed. And I was certain he had created the accident for his spiritual growth.

In the ensuing few weeks, I literally forgot about the incident. But then the same lady called me and asked if she and a couple other ladies could come to my house for a visit. They wanted to talk about their desire to "graduate" from Alcoholics Anonymous.

They visited me, and after about an hour of discussion and our visit was about to be over, she turned to me and said, "I have a message for you from my daughter's boyfriend."

She painted a mental picture. "None of the doctors could explain it. They considered it medically impossible. But his leg began rapidly healing. He became known to all the doctors and nurses as 'the miracle boy.' And he asked me to bring to the hospital some spiritual books, which he's been devouring. He was very insistent that I tell you that he knows there are no accidents, that he created the crash for his spiritual growth."