In the fall of 1994 we were invited to minister at an enormous church pastored by a man who is world-renowned for supernatural signs, wonders, healings and manifestations of the Holy Spirit. For the purpose of this message we will simply call him ‘Pastor’. 

As was customary, we would have a short presentation during the Sunday morning service and a concert in the Sunday evening service. But apparently, Pastor had something else in mind. After our presentation in the morning service Pastor stood to deliver his sermon, during which he assuredly announced that everyone should come back to the evening service because in addition to my former spouse being there to sing, the Holy Spirit would be making a personal appearance. Pastor announced the exact time the Holy Spirit would arrive as 8:30PM. Pastor was not ambiguous. He spoke with absolute confidence that a supernatural manifestation was determined. He even stated the exact spot behind the pulpit where the Holy Spirit was to appear.

Sunday evening came with great anticipation. I assumed my position in the sound booth of this spacious sanctuary as it was my duty to operate the sound tracks with which my former spouse performed. We had dispensed working with a live band years before. My role had been reduced to that of the invisible man. Just as the music set ended Pastor took the stage to begin preparing for the honored Guest to make His appearance. The church choir sang, the drone of background music stretched on and Pastor worked the sheep like a carnival huckster. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation. I sat in the control booth watching, observing and waiting for what was about to happen.

Pastor, with his flair for the dramatic, beguiled the sheep to "get ready" for the imminent appearance of the Holy Spirit, declaring at the appointed moment, “He is here”! He began to aggressively call for anyone who needed a touch from the Holy Spirit to make their way to the stage. You can imagine the surge as 3,000 people flooded the aisles. Handlers were dispatched to route the people in a circular manner down the center aisles to the stage and then after they passed the designated spot off stage to the side aisles where they could return to their seats.

In the midst of the music, shouting, and the crowd pushing their way to the front there was one man who caught my attention. He was in a wheelchair. He was at the back of the long center aisle nearest to my perch in the control booth. I knew immediately that there was no way that this man could navigate his wheelchair down the crowded center aisle. I thought perhaps someone would help push his wheelchair to the stage when suddenly he lunged forward, pushing himself by his arms out of the chair. He fell, landing face first on the carpeted floor. Then, using his elbows to propel his body, he literally inched his way around the feet and legs of others until he reached the stage.

The handlers saw him coming. Pastor saw him coming. I saw him coming. When he put his hands out to crawl up the stairs I do not recall anyone reaching out to help him. He clawed his way on stage to the very spot behind the pulpit where Pastor said the Holy Spirit was waiting. Then, I watched as he slowly crawled past the spot; sliding back down the side stairs the handlers directed him to use. He crawled back the same way he had crawled forward. I watched in a horror of inner turmoil as bystanders helped him back into his wheelchair.

I was in tears then as I am in tears now retelling the story. I had no idea that this was the test that would turn the page on a new chapter of my life.

I will not address the obvious question of why this man was not healed. He openly displayed his desperation and his faith, but he was not healed. I heard that the wheelchair bound man passed away a few months after the service. It goes without saying that he is now healed and living in the presence of the LORD.

What I will address is that which happened in the aftermath. The service eventually ended. We returned to our hotel suite and made ready for the flight home on Monday morning. I asked my former spouse what she felt when she, like so many others, had promptly fell out as though slain in the spirit. She said that she thought it necessary to show honor and respect. I don’t think I slept very much that night. 

I remember waking up Monday morning with one thought in mind. After we boarded the flight and settled in I told my former spouse about the wheelchair bound man. I told her that I could never again participate in this charlatan’s parade. I knew that Pastor had promised us a $5,000.00 “honorarium” for our appearance that weekend. As we discussed the point of our emerging disagreement I told her that I would never book her with Pastor or his church again even if the amount was doubled. I told her that I wanted to quit traveling to stay home with our children. At that point, the argument ceased. She simply asked if I would exchange seats with our road manager who was sitting across the aisle. The two of them had a brief conversation, heads together, whispering so I could not hear. Then, without another word, we exchanged seats again. 

I did not realize it then, but I had made the one decision that would end our marriage and shape the remainder of my life. I would no longer be the guy managing the annual budget, which at that time was headed towards millions. I would be removed as president of the ministry using my name. A successor, an interloper whom she had already chosen, would replace me. I would have no place, no say and no recourse. And that non-profit religious organization would go on to make tens of millions of dollars until…

For more than three decades the outcome of that test has been lived. I know because I lived it. I stood up for what I believed was right, and at what price? Marriage lost. Position lost. Ministry lost. Reputation lost. I lost two beloved daughters. I lost seven beloved grandchildren. I lost decades of being there; shunned, ostracized, slandered, mocked and scorned. Critics will say, “you lost because of what you did”, without ever knowing or caring what was done to me. But the purpose of this article is not to weep about that which the years have swept away. It is simply to ask you this: 

At what price will you sell yourself for a temporary benefit, a great name or a powerful position? And, what price are you willing to pay to do the right thing even if your choice means significant loss that is never vindicated in your lifetime?