Heaven’s Heartbeat - If They Only Knew

“We are praying, too, that you will be filled with his mighty, glorious strength so that you can keep going no matter what happens—always full of the joy of the Lord, and always thankful to the Father who has made us fit to share all the wonderful things that belong to those who live in the Kingdom of light. For he has rescued us out of the darkness and gloom of Satan’s kingdom and brought us into the Kingdom of his dear Son,  who bought our freedom with his blood and forgave us all our sins.”

Colossians 1:11-14

Some people say I am “over saved.”

Too much Jesus they say. Well, if they only knew.

In 1979 Van Halen’s hit, “Runnin’ with the Devil,” was my theme song. Deliverance along the road of salvation took time, because I didn’t know what I was stuck in—or what was stuck in me.

The faster and harder I ran from God, the darker I fell into murky places of the soul. And leading up to the last six months before I met Jesus, demons would hold me down with otherworldly weight bearing on me whenever I tried to rest. Sometimes I felt like I was being suffocated, and I often heard them laughing maniacally.

I knew they were coming after me, because I could hear them moving toward me. It wasn’t like hearing a person walking through a house. It was like something moving through space and time, getting closer, as fear gripped. I felt completely helpless and at their will. As the days went by, I studied different world religions trying to gain an upper hand over them. I dived into Eastern mysticism, mind bending positive thinking techniques, and secular humanism. Nothing spared me, nothing helped me, and I told no one about the blackness that was becoming increasingly dark, evil and foreboding.

Early on the morning I met Jesus, Nancy and Ryan were asleep. At that time, in June of 1979, our local AM station frequently played a hit song by Judy Collins: Believe it or not, it was a beautiful rendition of the old hymn, “Amazing Grace.” From the moment the song began, I became keenly aware that someone else was in the room with me. But this time it was different; this One was different. There was no ripping terror, but rather a peace so tangible, a love so indescribable, that I blurted out, “Jesus, if You are real, help me!”

Amazing grace is here:

I fell on the floor in a heap as Jesus, as only He can, wrapped His arms around me, driving out the darkness. With each faltering step of repentance I took, forgiveness was given, a chain dropped off of me, a prison bar was broken, and I was unshackled.

It was so liberating that I jumped up and ran into the bedroom, flipped on the light and yelled, “Nancy, I just met Jesus and He saved me!”

From a dead sleep, she rolled over with one eye open and said, “Have you been drinking?”

But the next day she saw the transformation, and she gladly followed me in asking Jesus to save her, too.

A few months after I was saved, I went to bed, laying down beside Nancy—and immediately sensed the old demons approaching. In that moment, I remembered the words that Mom had counseled me with: that the blood of Jesus was more powerful than any demon spirit. As soon as they begin to press down on me, and I felt the oppressive weight, the only words I could utter were,

“The blood of Jesus is against you!”

Immediately the evil force lifted, broke and departed. Now 44 years later, that darkness and oppression has never returned. Looking back, I see that the Holy Spirit placed me and positioned me to be alert to His victorious power over darkness—and it didn’t take long.

I wanted everyone I met to know this joy and freedom in Jesus that was making me new.

“I was lost and now am found…I was blind but now I see…”

About the same time that Mount Saint Helens erupted, May 18, 1980, I was invited to speak at a church for the first time in my life. Those were surreal days. The eruption had dropped inches of volcanic silica sand over Eastern Washington, ruining any mechanical system or combustion engine it penetrated. Most of the work on construction jobs was shut down for months. Finally in January 1981, I was dispatched to Washington Waterpower’s nuclear #4 plant outside Richland, Washington. I was assigned to a crew stationed in the turbine generator building, installing pipe hangers for the countless piping systems running through the building. The second day on the job, a man named Greg was hired, and we were partnered up; he was the welder, I the apprentice fitter.

One of the men on our crew was Dick, an open satanist who was hostile to Christians. One day another crew member saw me open a small New Testament. Sliding toward me on the bench at the lunch table, he whispered, “You better put that away! If Dick sees it he’ll run you off!”

Unfazed, I continued reading my New Testament during lunch. Sure enough, Dick noticed what I had been doing. He walked over to the table, sat directly across from me, and informed me he was a devil worshipper, and that I should put that Holy Bible away. As he spoke, he placed a Satanic Bible on the table, written by Anton Levey.

Looking across the lunch table at him, I said, “Let me see that.” I grabbed it, and slid it over in front of me. Having never seen the book before, I opened it. In the front it read: “God is dead, therefore Jesus is impotent.”

I closed it and slid it back across the table. “That’s a lie,” I said. “God is very much alive, and Jesus was raised from the dead.”

Dick quickly left without saying a word.

Greg and I worked on a lift high above the ground. This provided me with a captive audience through the work day. I began describing to Greg all the ways Jesus had changed my life and was still changing me, transforming me as man, husband, dad, employee, and friend.

Greg listened to me tell him about Jesus, and I still remember the Friday afternoon when I invited him to our church’s worship service on Sunday.

Using a few words I won’t repeat, Greg said, “If I come to your church on Sunday, will you shut up?”

Well, maybe…

That very Sunday morning, the pastor had asked me to lead the song service. The room was full of people as I was about to announce the page number in the hymnal. At that moment, the double doors swung wide open as Greg and his wife Vonda came walking in. In my mind’s eye, I can still see Greg’s shoulder-length hair, long black leather coat and his distinctive swagger as they walked halfway down the aisle, looking for a seat.

I called out the page number and said, “I’m dedicating this next song to my friend, Greg, today. Turn to “The Old Rugged Cross.” The words seemed to lift the roof as believers sang out, “On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross…” From the platform, I could see tears streaming down Greg’s face. I could hardly get the words out as the joy of salvation filled my soul. Greg and Vonda were born again that Sunday.

On the following Monday, we showed up for work and as we were preparing tools and material, I was kneeling, with Greg standing by me. At that moment Dick walked in and said, “I am putting demons all over you!” As he continued railing and pointing at us, I stood up, immediately speaking out one of the few Scriptures I had memorized: “Greater is He that is in me than He that is in the world.” Dick didn’t walk, he ran out of the tool room not saying another word.

For several months, Dick tried to intimidate me and Greg with fear and threats. But it never worked. Often, I attempted to tell Dick how Jesus had radically changed my life. Not once did he offer a hint of interest in Jesus or my experience of being delivered from my own dark abyss into God’s amazing grace. The door to Dick’s mind was slammed shut, tight and hostile to the light of Jesus.

A few years later I learned from a friend that Dick had tragically killed himself. I felt sad.

If only Dick had known the power of the blood of Jesus! What mercy was available to him. What freedom and forgiveness.

Some people say I am “over saved.” Too much Jesus they say.

Well, if they only knew.

- Micah