In 1987, when I was 20 years old, 175 lbs of tight muscle with a full head of hair and a lot less sense, I was sent to a phone counseling center in New York City to work off an evening of my summer ministry internship. As I remember it, calls came in from all over the state of New York and New Jersey during an evening’s running of the 700 Club. The trainer for the night was an ironic combination of Rocky Balboa, Florence Nightingale, and Mother Theresa. He talked of love and kindness and self-sacrificing service to those seeking help, but gave the distinct impression that you that he would and could hurt you if the need arose. He talked like he was punch drunk and irritated by our very presence, but with the sweetest affections and assurances that God would use us that night.
“Look, tonight, ya each gonna to be uuused (draw out the u long and nasally) by God in ways ya never (pronounced ne-va) imagined. If ya neva moved with the gifts of the Holy Spirit, ya will tonight. If ya moved with the gifts, you’ll move with new gifts. Now, don’t ya all go gettin’ big heads about it. When the chips were down, God spoke through (pronounced true) Balaam’s donkey. Tonight God will reach out to desperate people reachin out to Him. Ya just the donkeys answering the phone.” (sic, et al)
Somewhere in there he also mentioned the donkey carrying Jesus into Jerusalem… so… we were naturally encouraged. He should have been brought in to give locker-room speeches before Super Bowls and NBA Championships.
The room appeared to be some kind of college lecture theater where everything is painted a low budget flat black and the seating steps up as you move away from the stage. The only illumination came from dim spotlights far above the phones, which were lined up on rows of tables stretching from end to end and front to back. There were several dozens of phones, each numbered. If I remember correctly, I sat almost center in each direction. The phones began ringing in order almost as soon as we sat down.
Though I took many calls that night, I remember only three.
The first came early on. I picked up the phone, gave my canned opening, and heard someone about my own age say something to the effect of, “The space ship’s almost here, we’ll be ready to go soon.” Me: I rebuke you in the name of Jesus. Him: “Thaaaaank U.” Don’t ask me why I said it… I it was the way my church leaders had of talking to what we now call trolls. The fact that saying I rebuke you, wasn’t an actual rebuke, at least not an articulate one had not yet dawned on me, but there was something in the way he said, “Thaaaaank U,” drawn out and then clipped short that told me he wasn’t trolling me, but, rather, had something wrong with him.
I began to speak prayers over him like, In the name of Jesus, may you speak sense, may you be clear minded,” etc. At each declaration he simply said, “Thaaaaank U,” in that same weird way. After some thirty seconds of this, he seemed to come to himself. In a perfectly normal voice, he apologized for saying crazy things, told me his name, where he was, and what happened to him.
He’d been a gas station attendant in New Jersey and had been robbed and beaten almost to death by a motorcycle gang with baseball bats. It damaged his brain so that he was in and out of delusions and unable to think clearly much of the time. I prayed with him for a while and hung up.
Later I got a call from a woman who wanted me to pray that her daughter would go back to her husband and mend the relationship. I opened my mouth to pray some basic prayer for familial restoration, but what came out of my mouth unbidden was, You LIE!!!! I literally slapped my hand to my mouth and tried to gather my wits.
Oh, sorry, I mean… YOU’RE A LIAR!!! He is not your daughter’s husband. He is her drug dealer and her pimp. He is also abusing her. She left him to try to get her life straight, and the only reason you want your daughter to go back to him is because he gives you drugs and money.
I was horrified as the words tumbled out, but suddenly understood that it was all true. She began to stammer in obvious shock and finally said, “How did you know!” I said, God sees all, and GOD told ME! She began to weep with shame. I don’t even remember the rest of the call. I know I prayed with her for repentance and salvation, but the rest has gotten foggy over the decades.
Sometime later, in a room full of phones taking calls at random from two whole states, I answered the phone to hear a bawling woman who could barely speak a coherent word through her sobs and hitching. I asked her to try to calm down so I could understand her and prayed for her while she tried. I eventually began piecing it together. Her son had been in a motorcycle accident. He was in intensive care. He might not live. Then she said it. It blew me out of my boots. Yes, I wore work boots constantly then. She said, “I just can’t go through this again.”
I seized on that. Again? I asked with a weird knowing. She sniffed, “My oldest son was a gas station attendant and was beaten almost to death by men with baseball bats…”
I knew without doubt. That was just how that evening was going for me. I said, Ma’am, You’re oldest son’s name is blah, he was working at blah in blah, blah years ago, and is presently under care at blabbididee.” She gasped, “How did you know?” I said, I spoke with your son a little over an hour ago. I prayed with him. And Ma’am, I don’t know what’s going to happen to your injured son tonight, whether he will live or die, but I think we both know now that God sees you, God knows, and He is telling you that He is with you and you can trust Him with your boy.
I don’t know what came of that motor cycle accident, whether he lived or died, whether he was left maimed or restored. But what I do know, and what that mother confessed that night through tears of joy, was that there was a God in heaven. He sees all. He knows all. He knew her; He knew her sons, and their lives were in His hand.
~Andrew D. Sargent, PhD
