I like building hot rod cars. One day, my daughter and I went to load a 1934 Ford body in a faraway city. We positioned the body on my trailer and headed for home. I had driven about 40 feet when I felt the sudden urge to get out of the van and check the ’34 body on the trailer. There was no reason to check the load, as we had securely tightened the body down with chains, straps and ropes a few minutes earlier. Momentarily, I fought the urge to get out and check it. After all, we had only gone 40 feet. An unusual, negative feeling came over me. So, I got out and looked at the load. The ’34 Ford was okay but the trailer had snagged the outside gas pipes and gas meter on the garage we were passing. Had I gone forward even one inch more, the gas line pipe would have burst off the meter, sending natural gas under pressure, shooting onto the exhaust system of my van. This would have incinerated both my daughter and me.
The above words of Isaiah 25 have great meaning for me. Thank you, Jesus, for the miracles you perform!
Wow! Jesus, thanks. Amen. — G/CW