Ministry Moments:
Logger walks away with short pant leg
by Lynn Ridenhour
• click
here for Part I of this story
• click here
for Part II of this story
You know how it is—one thing leads to another. It’s
the same in the faith world. My miracle led to Linda’s,
and Linda’s miracle led to the logger’s. Faith breeds faith.
Across the street from us on the corner was the local Pentecostal church.
We were living in a small town in Louisiana called Eros. Couldn’t have been
more than two hundred people living there. Linda and I were basking in our
newly found faith—the faith world. We had just recently received what is
commonly called the Baptism in the Holy Spirit, and had been touched by an
angel. Or so it seemed.
We were so enthusiastic about what had happened—Linda’s spine
straightening and my hand lengthening. Sunday was approaching, and I
commented, "…hon, let’s not attend our church. Let’s go across the
street." Linda didn’t mind. So we went.
We sang with the best of them that morning. Pentecostals do know how to
praise—band and all. After the service the pastor, while mingling among us,
came up to me and asked if I would preach that evening for him.
"…Be delighted to Sir…"
That evening I simply shared how as Baptists we had come into the life of
the Spirit, and how encouraging it was to both of us. I told them that I
worked with two Pentecostal preachers, and that it used to bother me to high
heaven when either of them would say, "…you know, the Lord just
spoke to me…"
I would always think (while careful never to express my thoughts) "…he
did?! He never speaks to me like that…"
I told the people that evening of the two miracles that had happened across
the street in our home. And I don’t mind saying—it was fun preaching in a
Pentecostal church. Never done that before. They do know how to respond.
"…Amen, brother…"
"…Come on now…"
Though a bit unorthodox for my wife and me (I wasn’t used to the verbal
responses during my preaching) it was somewhat invigorating. I liked it.
Perhaps some would describe it "…makes for easy preaching…"
At any rate, no one seemed to want to leave after the benediction was
pronounced. People were chatting and hugging. I was shaking hands with those
extending their politeness.
"…Thank you, Ma’am. We were glad to be here…"
As I was standing up near the pulpit visiting, I kept glancing back at a
couple who was whispering back and forth. The wife seemed to be nudging her
husband to come our way. Finally, I heard her say, "…go on, go on…"
Then she took her husband by the arm and pulled him towards me. Anyway, I
assumed it was her husband. They both were shy. He came limping towards me.
"…Brother Ridenhour, my husband was a logger and he injured his leg
in an accident. Would you pray for it?…"
The pastor was standing nearby. He moved up close and contributed to the
conversation, "…One day while at work Bob was unhooking the log
chains that hold the logs on the truck when the chain came loose. The logs
fell on Bob and crushed his leg…"
"…It’s four inches shorter than his normal one…" said
the petite woman. "…Would you pray for his leg and ask the Lord to
grow it out?…"
I was taking it all in and didn’t have time to say a word.
I started to say something when the young man, with steel in his eyes,
stared right at me. "…I want you to know I don’t believe in any of
this…"
I know the Lord was with me, for I quickly responded, "…sometimes
it’s not our faith but it’s simply his grace…" I said it before
I thought. "…Sir, sit down here on the front pew and let’s see
what the Lord will do…"
He looked me in the eye again. "…I don’t believe anything will
happen…"
But he sat down. The whole church was gathering around. Or so it seemed.
Of course, all those natural fears & tendencies immediately surfaced. I
thought, "…What if nothing happens?…" "…You’ve done
it now…" And then I reigned in my thoughts. And practiced what I
preached. I reminded myself--miracles happen when we simply thank Jesus. And
we don’t have anything to do with them. We can’t take the credit or the
blame for what happens. Or doesn’t.
Sometimes the Lord surprises me. It was indeed obvious that this young man’s
left leg was shorter than his right. In fact, his wife remarked as I was
stooping down to pray, "…I always have to sew up all his trousers.
Have to take up the one pant leg a good four inches…"
I could feel all the eyes on my back. It had gotten real quiet.
I was now kneeling in front of Bob, and asking him to hold out his legs. I
took his two legs in my hands and held them straight out. And started to
pray, but…
I hadn’t said a word when the whole church watched Bob’s left leg
lengthen four inches to the exact length of his right leg. It took the Lord
about five seconds. I mean—his left leg shot out. No prayer. Nothing. Just
God in action.
I could hear the immediate jubilee behind me. Nothing breaks up a good
church service like a miracle or two. People were laughing. Some praising.
Others were gasping. Some were crying. The wife, with her head & hands
towards heaven, was saying "…thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Jesus!…"
Though very petite, she was a big believer.
But not Bob. It all happened too quickly for Bob. He stood up, looked down
at his two straight feet, his even legs, and walked away shaking his head.
After all these years, I can still see him walking away, his back turned,
and hear him uttering, "…I still don’t believe it…" I
can still see his head shaking.
He was walking away with one pant leg four inches shorter than the other.
