Archive for the ‘Angel’ Tag

A Marine’s Encounter with Michael the Archangel   1 comment

This is from Fellowship of the Minds:

In the Korean War (1950-53), a U.S. Marine named Michael had an encounter with his namesake and patron saint, to whom he had prayed every day since his youth for protection. Below is a revised (for literary effect) version of soldier Michael’s letter to his mother, which was verified by the Navy chaplain Walter Muldy. (Sources: Opus Sanctorum Angelorum: Angel StoriesTFP Student Action)

My company and I went out on patrol on a foggy wintry day.

A new soldier had joined our group and was marching alongside me.

I turned to him and said, “I have never seen you before. I thought I knew every man in the outfit.”

The new soldier replied, “I just joined at the last minute. My name is Michael.”

“Is that so?” I said, surprised. “That’s my name, too!”

“I know,” he said. “Michael, Michael, of the morning….”

Those are the beginning words of my daily prayer to St. Michael, my patron saint  as well as the patron saint of soldiers and police officers. How could this new soldier know my name, much less recite this same prayer? Still, I thought to myself, I had taught the prayer to the other soldiers. Perhaps, this was how the soldier knows it.

We walked in silence for a time. Suddenly, the new soldier Michael warned: “We are going to have some trouble up ahead.”

In the fog, Michael and I got separated from our company. Then, it began to snow. Later the fog lifted, the snow stopped and the sun came out. We walked over a little hill, and there were seven North Korean soldiers waiting for us with raised rifles 30-40 yards away.

I shouted, “Get down!” and threw myself on the ground just as the enemy soldiers began firing. But Michael just stood there, although he should have been killed instantly.

I got up to push Michael to the ground, but received a bullet to the chest.

I felt Michael’s strong arms around me. As he was laying me on the ground, I looked up and saw, not the new soldier, but St. Michael standing there in a blaze of glory, his face shining like the sun. He had a sword in his hand that flashed with a million lights!

That was the last thing I saw before I passed out.

When I awoke, I was surrounded by my company, who were attending to my wound.

I asked them, “Where is Michael?”

But nobody had seen this new soldier, Michael. Moreover, my sergeant said he had seen me walking alone. They wanted to know how I’d done it — how I had managed to kill all seven of the enemy troops without firing a shot.

You see, the seven North Korean troops had all been dispatched with the stroke of a sword.

Hand on the Helm

Alvin C. York

Pastor Kent Christmas – Powerful Prophetic Release

A Week in the Life of a Hitchhiker   2 comments

7182

Northwestern United States

[April 2010]

In the past week, I hitchhiked from Helena, Montana to Dayton, Washington. The ride from Helena took me to Missoula. This guy’s name was Harry and he came from the Fort Peck Indian Reservation in northeast Montana. Harry was from the Assiniboine Tribe; we had a good talk. I told him that I was a Christian. He knew very little about Christianity. I told him about my faith in Jesus and that he should read the Gospel of John in the New Testament. I think he said that someone gave him a copy of the New Testament some years ago.

It had been snowing that morning when I left Helena and there was some slush on I-90. Harry was going 85 miles per hour when he hit a patch of slush. All of a sudden, we were going sideways down the interstate. Then we went sideways down into the median (I thought we were going to roll his van over) and continued going sideways into the next lane into oncoming traffic. This big tractor-trailer was bearing down on us and I thought we were going to get T-boned by the tractor-trailer when, all of a sudden, the van straightened itself out. Harry took control and we drove on the shoulder to the next exit. That happened near Clinton, Montana.

It was quite a rush for at least several seconds. It all happened so quickly. Harry and I looked at each other and heaved a sigh of relief. Harry said that my God saved us. I said, Praise the Lord!

Harry was in a hurry to get to this hospital in Missoula; he had injured his back getting bucked off of a horse during his rodeo days. We went to this hospital where they gave him some shots in his back. I sat and talked with Harry as he lay in the bed. The nurses thought it was pretty funny that he had picked up a hitchhiker.

After the hospital, Harry took me to his relations’ place in Missoula and I slept on the floor that night. The next morning, his nephew drove me to Lolo where I started walking west on U.S. 12.

I walked a couple of miles or so and this married couple in a vehicle pulled over. They were Michael and Sandy and we had some excellent fellowship–they were really in tune with the Holy Ghost. We drove to a cabin that they had rented and had a powerful prayer meeting. The demons were manifesting in Michael as I commanded them to come out. We later had breakfast at a local bar/restaurant and then headed back to Clinton where I stayed at their place for the night. The next day Michael drove me over Lolo Pass to Lochsa Lodge and dropped me off. Then I walked a few miles and got a ride to Kooskia, Idaho.

From Kooskia I got a ride to Kim and Pat Hosking’s place between Stites and Harpster. I met Kim and Pat while I was hitchhiking on U.S. 12 near Lolo, Montana in 2004. Kim builds wood furniture and has a portable band saw, so he can cut up logs into boards.

I hadn’t seen Kim and Pat in a year. They let me stay for five nights. I helped Kim cut some white pine, yellow pine and red fir logs on his band saw. Pat was doing some editing on her book The Lion’s Roar (her pen name is Margaret Hosking).

It rained last night; the skies are overcast now. I got a real good sunburn on my neck and arms after working with Kim on the band saw. It is a real blessing to be out of the sun for a few days.

Rose Hill Woodworks

Hitchhiking in Nebraska   12 comments

Prairie Sunset

Sand Hills, Nebraska

High Plains Drifter: A Hitchhiking Journey Across America
By Tim Shey

Excerpt from Chapter Five:

Psalm 18: 19: “He brought me forth also into a large place; he delivered me, because he delighted in me.”

In May of 1997, I hitchhiked west towards Nebraska. I have always loved going through Nebraska. In all my travels, I believe that the people of Nebraska and Texas were by far the best people I have ever met. Nebraska was in my comfort zone. Whenever I had been wandering out west and came out of Wyoming and into Nebraska, I felt that I was back on my home turf. The people of Nebraska are gold, silver and precious stones.

I got some good rides all the way to Osmond, Nebraska. It was getting close to sundown when this guy driving a tractor picked me up.

“You can sit on the fender if you want,” he said.

“Sounds good to me,” I said.

He drove me to Plainview and we talked about the things of God and the Bible. He asked me what I was doing. I told him that I just quit my job and thought I would hitchhike by faith and see where God would take me. He offered me a job right there. He had his own construction company and lived on a farm with his wife and kids. I told him I would love to work for him, but that God was calling me out west for some reason. We stopped in Plainview and we shook hands. I hopped off the tractor and I got a motel room.

The next morning this tractor-trailer picked me up.

“I’m going all the way to western South Dakota,” he said. “I got five drops: three in Nebraska and two in South Dakota.”

We stopped at three places in Nebraska and I helped unload his van–he was hauling some small trees and shrubs. We got to a truck stop near Kadoka, South Dakota and he told me he would buy me some supper.

We were eating supper when he looked at me and said, “You know, right before I picked you up I saw this man pointing at you. It was like he was telling me to pick you up.”

“What?” I exclaimed. “I didn’t see anybody out there. I was alone.”

“I saw him plain as day. When I picked you up I didn’t see him anymore.”

I was flabbergasted. So I sat there and wondered and looked out the window and asked him, “Do you think he was an angel?”

“He must’ve. It was the strangest thing I ever saw.”

On our trip we talked a lot about the Word of God and certain preachers on TV. He lived in Sioux City and was very well self-educated. I enjoyed talking with him. After supper he said he was going back to the sleeper and get some sleep. I took a long walk—for two or three miles—out in the country. Lots of grassland; it was beautiful.

I walked back to the truck and the trucker was sound asleep. He had a double-decker sleeper, so I got in the top bunk and turned on the VCR. From midnight till four in the morning I watched two films. The first film was The Professional—it was about the life of a mafia hit man and a twelve-year-old girl named Matilda. It was very good. I forget the other film.

The next day we stopped in Rapid City and Spearfish and we unloaded his truck. He bought me breakfast and I hit the road.

A Book Review for High Plains Drifter
Are You An Angel?
A State of Existing, North Dakota
Tim Shey Hitchhiking in Western Wyoming
It’s a Small World
The life of a hobo
Hitchhiking Stories from Digihitch
A Thumb and a Prayer
An American Pilgrim:  Some Reflections on High Plains Drifter