Harry Ormsby of London, Kentucky, was only twenty years old when he returned to the States from Vietnam in June 1972. Transferred to an Army post in Colorado, he kept on drinking, partying, and smoking marijuana with his buddies. But he was miserable. He longed to stop his lifestyle, but he didn't know how. Then he had a supernatural encounter in the middle of the night. He tells his story:

After all the killing I had seen in Vietnam, I wondered if God even existed. If he did, I wasn't sure if I could know him. And yet during the five months after I got back to the States, an overwhelming desire was growing inside me to know God. I think someone somewhere was praying for me. I started praying a lot myself. And yet I kept on going out with the guys, smoking pot.

One night when I had been out late, living it up, I felt empty and dissatisfied. As I walked up the steps to my apartment, tears started falling down my cheeks. I paused on the landing halfway up and looked up at the dark sky. I suddenly found myself talking aloud to God. "If you don't do whatever you do to save people, to help them, I'm not going to make it. Do whatever you do," I stammered.

As I kept gazing at the dark sky, suddenly right before my eyes Jesus appeared on the cross. He had a very bloodied and swollen head; the skin on his cheeks looked as though his beard had been plucked out. His countenance was almost beyond recognition. I was in awe, yet frightened. My sins--every one I had ever done--seemed to be hanging on him.

I ducked my head down and started to cry. "Lord, forgive me. There is nothing I can do to pay you back. I am so sorry." I looked back up, and Jesus was no longer on the cross but directly in front of me, looking at me with great joy. His eyes said everything--love and forgiveness. When I acknowledged his presence, he smiled, reached out, and touched me on the forehead. Then he was gone.

I knew at that moment he forgave and loved me! Perhaps seeing a vision or revelation of Jesus is a miracle, and I don't treat it lightly. But to me the real miracle was the continuous way God changed my life, my attitudes, my actions, and my desires. His power came that night and touched me deeply. No more drinking. No more drugs. No more partying. In the more than twenty years I have followed him since that night, he has continued to change my heart. I have even had the opportunity to go to other countries to tell people about a loving and forgiving Savior.

Harry was desperate when he cried out to God: "Do whatever you do to save, to help people." Often we have to admit our own helplessness to experience our miracle.

 

From: Miracles Happen When You Pray by Quin Sherrer, 1997, pag. 170, 171, Zondervan Publishing House,  Grand Rapids, Michigan.

 

 

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