90 Minutes in Heaven_ A True Story of Death & Life - Don Piper [44]
“It was what anybody would have done,” he said, and then he started crying.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” I said, feeling bad that I had said something to make him cry like that. “That’s the last thing on earth I’d ever want to do.”
“That’s not what I’m crying about.”
Several minutes lapsed before he finally pulled himself back together again.
“What were you crying about?” I asked.
“I was thinking that I came upon the scene of the accident and I asked the officer if I could pray for you—and I thought of it as just something any Christian would do. Although he said you were dead, I knew—I just knew—I had to pray for you. I could only think that you were hurt, and I wanted to make you feel better. I didn’t do anything unusual.”
“But you did. When the officer told you I was already dead—”
“Listen to me, Don. If you saw a little kid run out in the street, you’d dash out there and try to save the child’s life. Human nature is like that. We try to preserve life, and I will do that any time I get the opportunity. So would you.”
We were sitting in a restaurant, and he paused to look around. “Yet here we are sitting in this place, surrounded by people, many of whom are probably lost and going to hell, and we won’t say a word about how they can have eternal life. Something is wrong with us.”
“You’re absolutely right,” I said. “We’re willing to save someone in a visible crisis, but a lot of folks are in spiritual crisis and we don’t say a word about how they can get out of it.”
“That’s why I was crying. I’ve been convicted about my silence, my fear of speaking to people, my reluctance to speak up.”
Dick said then, and again later, that hearing my experience and his role in my coming back to earth had set him free. After that he felt a boldness to talk about Jesus Christ that he hadn’t had before.
13
THE CLASPING
HAND
He is your God, the one who is worthy of your praise, the one who has done mighty miracles that you yourself have seen.
DEUTERONOMY 10:21
I was privileged to share my story in Dick’s church, Klein First Baptist, a little more than a year after the accident. His wife, Anita, was there, and so was my own family. Because I still wore leg braces, two people had to help me walk up on the platform.
I told everyone about the accident and about Dick’s part in bringing me back. “I believe I’m alive today because Dick prayed me back to earth,” I said. “In my first moments of consciousness, two things stand out. First, I was singing ‘What a Friend We Have in Jesus.’ The second was that Dick’s hand gripped mine and held it tight.”
After the morning worship, many of us went out to lunch together at a Chinese restaurant. Anita sat across from me. I remember sipping my wonton soup and having a delightful time with the church members.
When there was a lull in the conversation, Anita leaned across the table and said in a low voice, “I appreciated everything you said this morning.”
“Thank you—”
“There’s just one thing—one thing I need to correct about what you said in your message.”
“Really?” Her words shocked me. “I tried to be as accurate as possible in everything I said. I certainly didn’t intend to exaggerate anything. What did I say that was incorrect?”
“You were talking about Dick getting into the car with you. Then you said he prayed for you while he was holding your hand.”
“Yes, I remember that part very distinctly. I have a number of memory gaps, and most of the things I don’t remember.” That morning I had readily admitted that some of the information I gave came secondhand. “The one thing that’s totally clear was Dick being in the car and praying with me.”
“That’s true. He did get in the car and pray with you.” She leaned closer. “But, Don, he never held your hand.”
“I distinctly remember holding his hand.”
“That didn’t happen. It was physically impossible.”
“But I remember that so clearly. It’s one of the most vivid—”
“Think about it. Dick leaned over from the rear