And because of his words many more became believers.
How I Met Jesus
by Jack Newton
I was living in Belize, Central America with my wife and two small children. I had investigated many religions, looked at the scriptures and eventually decided that if there is a God, he would like me. I would not make a decision. I did not believe the scriptures from any religion had come to us intact, even if God had originally spoken them. It seemed there were just lots and lots of ways to be with God. I was a good person!
My son was nearly two, and one predawn morning while “helping” dad make breakfast, Ty pulled a very large pot of boiling water over onto himself from the stove. I grabbed him, threw him in the sink and immediately poured cool boiled water over him we always had on hand for drinking and cooking. He was wearing only a T shirt. When I pulled it over his head, the skin came with it from his right side. I could see his ribs in three places. His loud wailing brought the neighbors running.
Jan had been nursing the baby Elisa, neighbor Wilma took her from Jan’s arms and Jan, wrapping Ty in a baby blanket, jumped into our car and we tore off for town and a doctor 6 miles away.
A mile down the road, God opened my mind or the heavens and spoke to me. He did not promise healing or bargain with me, he only said, “Do You Believe?” I could see into the spirit world, I was numb from the awesome power of God and his presence. I alone saw and heard. At that moment I believed. Somehow I knew the bible was true, that Jesus was who he said he was, and God was real and in our lives.
When I could speak, I told Jan, “Everything will be ok.” My son wailed on, and she continued to weep.
We awakened the doctor as the sun came up on the Caribbean. He had dire news. Ty would not easily survive. His burns would become infected in this damp, fungal/bacterial ridden tropics, and even if he did, the scarring would be deep and he would not be able to grow on that side of his body. We must go to the States.
We stopped at the hospital, and opted for home where the house had screens for insects, but a small girl the same age had been burned the same way at the same hour. Both were painted for fungal infections.
We moved on and Jan cried out, “Lets stop and see the missionaries!”, a Pentecostal couple who felt our bananas, coconut, breadfruit and citrus were free. They began to cry and falling to their knees, laid hands on Ty and prayed. As they prayed his color returned, and he stopped crying
I suddenly remembered that I had been praying before God spoke, I had been praying that Ty’s pain would be taken away. I had also been praying that he would not be scarred, but I did not remember that then.
Ty looked terrible, big bags of skin filled with fluid hung off of his body, His little ribs still shined thru ruined windows of meat.
A nurse from Chicago came to our door, lost. She had just finished burn college, and as a Bahia with her husband had come on a mission to Belize. She graded Ty’s burns, and taught us how to care for them. Again the prognosis was dire, and weeks were expected for healing enough to go to the States for skin grafts to begin.
Each day I would boil gallons of water, add salts to match the blood levels, and soak Ty in the bath. He woke up each day encased in hard scab like coating that must be removed. I would rip off the softened faux scabs and he would scream. Jan would take the baby and walk far from the house avoiding his cries.
On the fifth day, the scabs fell away with ease, and below was fresh new pink skin, complete with tiny hairs and perfect pores. I then remembered my second prayer. No scars!
I thought this news must be spread, I took pictures, doctor’s reports prepared my speech carefully to rake hundreds into Christ’s Kingdom. To this day not one unbeliever has been convinced. It was just for me.
PS: When we left Belize two years later the little girl, burned like Ty, was still in hospital, curled up, the tight deep scars, her mind affected by the pain and crippling.