Testimony:[1] When Trouble Came Knocking
I watched in horror as the glass on our front door shattered. The door handle failed to unlatch. My son’s left arm went right through the glass.
Joshua pulled his arm back. His severed artery was spurting blood out through the large wound on the skin.
I could not believe what I was seeing. This scene played before my very eyes in slow motion, like from an old-time movie.
With every heartbeat, bright red blood pumped out of his artery shooting like a fountain five feet in the air. Blood splattered on the ceiling, the walls, and the furniture.
We looked at each other and immediately cried out to God for help. We both knew he would bleed to death within minutes.
This particular Friday (July 2, 1993) had been especially busy. We were all feeling the pressure of getting ready to leave on a well-deserved family vacation. However, two large yards remained to be mowed, a house to be cleaned, and laundry to be done. In addition, we prepared to build a new tool shed.
The new tool shed project involved the breaking up of many concrete blocks to be used for fill in the foundation. This was Joshua’s job. He had spent all morning and part of the afternoon working on the concrete.
The day started bright and sunny. However, around 2:00 p.m., storm clouds threatened the sun-filled sky. I felt the urgent need for Joshua to get started cutting the grass before it rained. That’s when he started to go out the front door. In the seconds that followed, my definition of what was urgent would change forever.
Instantly, we rushed into the bathroom where I tied a towel around the wound. The blood continued to shoot like a fountain, even on the bathroom mirror. I cannot describe the look on his face. I’m sure it was a direct reflection of my look as I watched my son face death’s door. We both knew it would be just a matter of minutes.
No time existed to call an ambulance. Since we lived out in the country, I knew it would take them a few minutes to come. I also knew that we could be in town in ten minutes if I drove fast. We rushed to the car. Our grey leather car seats took on the color of the bright red blood from my son’s arm. The blood continued to pour out of him. The floorboard changed from grey to red. I couldn’t believe this was really happening!
On the car phone, I called 9-1-1 and asked them to notify the state police about this desperate situation. I headed to Tipton Hospital as quickly as I could. As I sped down the highway, I called my doctor’s office and asked them to notify the emergency room that my son was bleeding severely.
My mind raced in many directions. Some impressions of those blurry moments will be etched in my memory forever: the awesomeness of life and death, the frailty of life, the strength of life, the kindness of people, the mercy and grace of a loving Heavenly Father, the miracle working power of the Word of God, and the ministry of the Holy Spirit and His angels. “Lord Jesus, please, save my son!” Joshua’s color in his face turned pale.
Time was of the essence. The seconds ticked away. The blood continued to flow. Josh and I talked. We asked each other’s forgiveness for our anxiety about the day; and we asked God’s forgiveness. We talked about our love for each other and for our family and friends. We prayed for God to help us and to save Joshua’s life.
Saving his life was the only concern I had.
I was reminded of how Leviticus tells us that “the life is in the blood.”[2] I watched the life pour out of my son. I thought about the awesome love of God that He would send His only Son to shed His life’s blood for the lost.[3]
After we had traveled for about five minutes (although it seemed like an eternity!), Joshua went limp and was no longer breathing. “In Jesus’ name,” I cried out to God, “preserve the spirit of life in him. In Jesus’ name, I bind the spirit of death that surrounds us. I loose the ministering angels of God to bring life and healing into Joshua.” He started breathing again!
Joshua began repeating to himself, “I’m not going to die. I’m not going to die,” but even as he was saying those words his head dropped over. His pale face slumped on his chest.
Dear God!
This episode would be repeated three more times before we reached the emergency room. Remembering the Word of God, concerning the laying on of hands for healing, I never took my hand off the back of Josh’s neck until we got to the hospital. I continually prayed in the Spirit. “The Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.”[4]
My son’s life was hanging in the balance. Shortly, it would be either life or death. I chose life. I prayed boldly and with confidence. If he died, God would give me the grace to deal with it, but I was not giving up without a fight to the bitter end.
I actually felt like I saw Joshua’s spirit begin to leave his body. I got a hold of it and shouted, “No! In Jesus’ name, I command you, spirit of life come back into him right now.”
I spoke over Joshua the prophecy that the Lord had given through different ministers over the years about Joshua’s life, how he would live to declare the works of the Lord.[5] I held on to those promises in this all-out spiritual battle.
The blood continued to flow.
Blood pooled in the car seat. My yellow shorts and white tee shirt were literally covered with blood. Since I had called ahead to the hospital, we didn’t have to wait. The emergency room personnel were out in the parking lot with all the tubes, etc. He had lost a lot of blood.
Again, he was not breathing.
They immediately stuck huge IV’s in his arm and groin so they could pour in fluids to give his heart something to pump through his veins.
But at least I knew he was alive. Barely. During the first ten minutes, they feverishly worked on him; I kept praying and waiting.
I called the church to notify my husband Bill to start an intense prayer chain. Within minutes, hundreds of Christians all over the United States were praying for Joshua’s life.
His condition began to stabilize. The emergency room doctor told me he would be flying him by Lifeline helicopter to Methodist Hospital in Indianapolis, where he would receive the best care available.
As the helicopter came, I heard the doctor talking to one of the doctors on the helicopter, “You’ve got to get that tourniquet off his arm, or we’re going to lose his arm,” she was being told. Her shocking reply was, “If we take the tourniquet off, we are going to lose him.” I was sitting there, listening intently to every single word.
What a choice of how a mother should pray!
First of all, I prayed that the Lord would save his life. I was going to be glad to have my son alive, even if he only had one arm. But at least he was alive! I added the prayer that the Lord would save his arm, as well.
As the blades of the helicopter swirled overhead, Joshua was clinging to life. The threatening storm clouds got even darker. That 13-minute helicopter ride helped to save Joshua’s life. He actually remembered that as they took him off the helicopter from the roof at Methodist Hospital, the first drops of rain hit his face.
“He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation.”[6]
I clung to these words as our oldest son, Joshua, was being transported by helicopter.
That same ride on the highway took an hour for us. Bill and I continued to pray. We drove through torrential rains. Clouds, which had merely threatened earlier, were now full-fledged thunderstorms. God had shown mercy that day.
The big storm did not hit until after the helicopter had landed in Indianapolis. Joshua was ahead of the storm.
When Bill and I arrived at the hospital, Joshua had already been taken into surgery. We were directed to the surgery waiting room. After a while, one of the surgical nurses came out and told us that they had examined the wound more closely. They realized that some pieces of his arm were missing.
They really needed a vascular surgeon and a plastic surgeon in addition to the two trauma surgeons, but none were on call at the time.
However, just as they were discussing this urgent need, the nurse told us two off-duty doctors came walking down the hall. Hearing the commotion, they stuck their heads in the door and said, “You guys need some help in there? We can scrub up and help you out.” One of them just happened to be a cardiovascular surgeon. The other was a plastic surgeon. The nurse commented that someone was on our side and that Josh was in the hands of the best surgeons available.
Praise be to God! That someone was Jesus! He is on our side!
Joshua’s life and his arm were saved. His doctor told us that even though he had completely severed the muscle, nerve, and artery, they would all heal. He would have full use of his arm in just a few months. That’s the real power of prayer.
When trouble comes knocking, we can pray!
I thank the Lord every day that I was right there with Josh when it happened and was able to get him to the hospital in time. I also thank Him for all of those believers who loved us, prayed for us, and supported us. We felt the strength of their prayers. We praise God that His Word is everlasting.
“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.’”[7]
[1] From the preface of When Trouble Comes Knocking…YOU Can Take Authority! By Dr. William Salsbery; foreword by Dr. David Shibley; preface above by Connie Salsbery. Copyright 1995 Heartland Publishing, Sharpsville, Indiana. Used by permission.
http://www.HeartlandPeople.com.
[2] Leviticus 17:11
[3] Ephesians 2:13; 1 John 1:7; Revelations 1:5
[4] Romans 8:26b
[5] 1 Timothy 1:18
[6] Psalm 91:15-16
[7] Psalm 91:1-2
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