90 Minutes in Heaven_ A True Story of Death & Life - Don Piper [61]
Despite my trying to remain stoic, tears seeped from the corners of my eyes.
“I just thought you’d like to know that.”
“Yes,” I said. “Thank you for telling me. That’s great encouragement for me.”
As she retold some of the story to those with me, I thanked God for bringing me back to earth. “Oh, God, I do see some purpose in my staying here. Thank you for allowing me to hear this story.”
One time I preached at the Chocolate Bayou Baptist Church, south of Houston. They had asked me to share my death-and-heaven experience.
I was getting my final thoughts together. Typically, in Baptist churches, they have a soloist or some kind of special music just before the guest speaker comes to the pulpit. A woman, who had not been in the service and apparently didn’t know what I was going to talk about, came in from a side door to sing.
She had a lovely voice and began to sing a song called “Broken and Spilled Out” about the alabaster jar the woman used when she washed Jesus’ feet.
As soon as she sat down, I stood up and began to tell them about my accident. I didn’t make any connection between her song and my message, but I noticed that several people kept frowning at the woman.
After the service, I heard someone say to the soloist, “That was an interesting song about being broken and spilled out for you to sing before Don talked.” The way he said the word interesting really meant tasteless.
“Oh!” she said. The shock on her face made me aware that she hadn’t known what I was going to speak about. Obviously, she hadn’t made the connection either.
Our eyes met and she started to cry. “I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “Really, it’s all right.” I started to walk on.
“Broken and spilled,” someone said. “That’s what happened to you, wasn’t it?” At least a dozen people made similar comments. A few assumed we had planned for her to sing that particular song.
I stopped and looked back. The soloist stood next to the piano, and she was crying. I excused myself and walked back to her. “That’s a beautiful song about a wonderful experience. You didn’t know what I was going to talk about, but that’s all right, because I can’t think of a better song.”
She smiled in gratefulness and started to apologize again. “It’s fine. Really, it’s fine,” I assured her.
As I walked away, I thought maybe I had been broken and spilled out. But I smiled at another idea: I’m also being put back together again.
16
FINDING PURPOSE
I am convinced of this, so I will continue with you so that you will grow and experience the joy of your faith.
PHILIPPIANS 1:25
Brad Turpin, a motorcycle police officer from the Houston suburb of Pasadena, almost lost a leg. His police motorcycle crashed into the back of a flatbed truck. He would have bled out on the concrete if the EMTs hadn’t applied a tourniquet to his leg.
Sonny Steed, the former minister of education at our church, knew Brad personally and asked me to go see him. “Absolutely,” I said, especially after I heard that he would be wearing a fixator. I called and made sure he’d let me come. I don’t know why, but just before we left, I picked up pictures showing my accident and my recovery.
Sonny drove me to the officer’s house. Once we had walked inside, it was almost like seeing the way my living room had looked for months. Brad was lying in a hospital bed with the trapeze bar above him. His device was similar, but not quite the same as mine, because in the dozen years since my accident, technology had improved.
Other people were there, so I sat down and joined in casual conversation. He was nice enough, but I knew he’d seen so many people he was tired of visitors. As soon as the last visitor left, I said, “You really are tired of talking to people aren’t you?”
Brad nodded.
“I understand. You almost feel like you’re on display here. The phone never stops ringing. Everybody wants to come by to see you.”
He