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In
the spring of 1982 I was the speaker at a morning prayer group which meets in
a town near Springfield, Illinois. Before I spoke, a neighboring pastor shared about his recent trip to
Mexico. He, along with several others, had gone there on a preaching
mission. While they were returning, their van developed mechanical problems.
After jacking up the van, the pastor crawled underneath to check out the
problem. The jack collapsed, and he suddenly felt the crushing weight of the
van on his chest. His companions quickly grabbed the bumper to lift the van.
They weren't able to budge it. He cried out, "Jesus! Jesus!" Within
a few seconds a youthful-looking Mexican came running toward them. He was
thin and small in stature. He was smiling. As he reached the van, he grabbed
the van and lifted it. The others joined in, and the van lifted like a
feather.
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As
he was freed, the pastor felt his chest expand and the broken bones mend. The
visitor then lowered the van, waved to them, and ran in the direction from
which he had come, until he disappeared on the horizon. No one knew who the
mysterious visitor was or where he had come from.
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