There are some, even Bible scholars, who say “the days of miracles are passed.”
That, in my opinion, is the same as saying, “God is dead.” Having been witness to more miracles, from the day-to-day miracle of life itself, to the truly ‘sit up and take notice’ kind, I must heartily disagree.
The miracle I will tell you about now happened in the early 1970s in a church in Tucson, Arizona. In this church, a nondenominational Baptist/Pentecostal mix (I know, a pretty unusual mix) we had revival once a year in December.
This incident took place in either ’74 or ’75. During those times there was a service set aside for communion and foot washing. Two of the three ordinances set up by Jesus himself, the third being baptism.
This church had a large auditorium seating, as I recall, around 350 on the main floor and a balcony seating many more along with ante rooms that could be opened to accommodate around a thousand. During the December meetings it was usually at capacity.
After communion the men and ladies would go into separate rooms by course and wash one another’s feet. The room for the men was upstairs and was approached by a balcony across and above the pulpit, a railing made for a normally safe crossing.
Now Brother Wiggins, at that time, was a man in his eighties but fairly vigorous so traversing that balcony would not normally be a problem for him. He and his wife had been missionaries in, I believe, South America.
That particular day, however, Brother Wiggins was apparently a bit unstable on his feet and managed to fall over the railing onto another wrought iron railing below. A great hubbub ensued. A couple men in the congregation were doctors and rushed to his aid. They found him not breathing and with no other sign of life.
All the congregation began to pray and his wife, who had not yet gone for foot washing, rushed to his side and began to pray in unknown tongues. Within a short time Brother Wiggins gasped and came alive. He was taken to the hospital.
X-rays revealed numerous broken bones. They didn’t think he would live through the night, but God had other plans. His bones knit together within a week and he lived, as I recall, into his nineties.
With God all things are possible to they who believe.