The Fall - The Dream - The Gift
Carol and I were on the Lutheran Hour Ministries tour. We were in Erfurt, Germany, with a free afternoon ahead of us.
All morning we were introduced to the city as we took a walking tour of the major sites; The Martin Luther statue, the Merchant’s Bridge, the churches and the Augustinian monastery where Martin Luther was a monk.
Now with a free afternoon we headed out to view in-depth some of the sites we passed through in the morning.
After a quick lunch we headed out for a leisurely stroll that took us to the Merchant’s Bridge where we climbed the bell tower of the St Giles' Church for a panoramic view of the entire city.
Walking through the shops we continued on to the monastery for a closer look at the stained glass windows and the altar area where Luther laid before.
We headed down the old cobblestone streets going in and out of stores as we hunted for remembrances of our visit.
We found ourselves on Anger Street headed back to the hotel when I decided to cross the street. I stepped off the curb and immediately felt my ankle turning as my foot slipped off of the cobblestone and twisted sideways into the mortar between the stones. Feeling the pressure on my ankle I knew I had to lift my foot before I fell backwards and sprained my ankle.
I lifted my foot up high out of the crack and set it down. Immediately I realized this wasn’t going to end well as my foot slipped forward, causing me to stumble. In an effort to keep upright I started to run, hoping my center of gravity would allow me to stand.
It didn’t.
I pitched forward, relaxing as much as I could for the impact, keeping my hands limp and my head up to avoid broken wrists and glasses.
I slammed into the pavement.
I felt the blood on my face and checked my glasses and nose – they were intact, just a large gash down the center of my face. My left knee started to feel warm from the oozing blood – long cuts across my knee. My right shoulder started to ache.
Soon many hands encircled my body and lifted me out of the street. I started screaming in pain, “Don’t move me, please don’t move me, I’m hurt.”
They ignored my pleas and set me down on the sidewalk. A stool brought out from a neighboring store was waiting for me. I tried to move my right arm. The pain was unbearable.
I waited a minute while Carol talked to the store owner about calling an ambulance.
Just then, I knew why the crowd ignored my pleas and moved me from the street as a passing tram (train) raced by.
I shuddered as I realized that I had fallen in the middle of the train tracks. Because I was on a blind curve the tram would surely have ended my life. The crowd saved my life, but the rail shattered my hopes to continue on the tour.
The ambulance arrived and two EMT’s loaded me into the back. Now language became an issue, with only the driver speaking a little English and Carol and I almost no German.
The hospital looked imposing as I was wheeled into the room. The cacophony of sound did little to calm my fears as I could not understand what was being said.
A translator from our tour company arrived shortly after I returned from x-rays and a CT scan on my shoulder.
I had shattered my humerus (upper arm) bone into at least five pieces, severing the bone and driving it backwards into the scapula (shoulder blade). Surgery was needed – now – in Germany.
Surgery was scheduled for the next day and I was admitted to a men only, three-bed ward. Carol was kicked out and I was on my own.
Every move set off stabs of pain through my arm. The heavy-duty pain medication started to work as I drifted in and out of consciousness. Each time I woke the nurse gave me a welcomed shot for the pain.
As the medication kicked in I was transported back in time a few days to our visit to the Concentration Camp at Dachau. We had toured the barracks, heard the stories of cruelty at the hands of the SS guards, walked through the shower area and gazed at the ovens used to cremate the dead.
I woke with a start as the pain stabbed through my body.
It was dark, some ambient light drifted through the shade from the floodlights outside the room.
My vision began to blur as my head began to spin. I closed my eyes.
When I opened them I was staring at the wall in front of me – the blank wall now transformed with images of light and color.
I watched fascinated as two parallel lines of white etched their way across the wall, bending and forming the “SS” of the Schutzstaffel, the guards of Dachau. Soon the SS glowed bright orange – throwing sparks into the air. Where the sparks landed small fires started.
Soon the lower half of the wall was covered with flame. As the flames licked higher and higher, forms appeared, rising out of the flames.
Hitler appeared, smiling. His face was transformed into skull and crossbones. The skull pulsed out towards me when it exploded and was replaced by a pulsating specter that grew and morphed into a human face.
An ordinary human face, male with bright eyes and a toothy smile stared at me. But soon gashes and cuts enveloped the features. The face grew and became more grotesque. I tried to turn away, but I couldn’t, the face held my gaze and refused to let me ignore it.
I felt a presence of evil. The face came forward towards me and then retreated into the flames. I heard screams of torment that sent shivers down my body.
The face melted into the flames while the flames morphed into shapes. They were human in form, but twisted and grotesque as they writhed in agony, screaming for relief. The forms filled the wall and the face dominated the center. It laughed with a howl that caused dread and fear.
My brain registered something. I grabbed the thought, hoping, willing the scene in front of me to vanish. Finally I grasped it – I was glimpsing Hell. Satan was laughing at me, showing me his kingdom. It was as if I was being pulled into Hell and couldn’t stop it.
I rolled over and the nurse came with another shot of pain meds. I must have screamed.
As she retreated and I looked at the wall, Hell was fading, only to be replaced by a different scene.
I looked and saw myself lying across a tomb in the Kidron Valley. I was just under the temple mount, looking across the valley to the Mount of Olives.
It was pitch dark, but I could see glimpses of light reflected off the tops of thousands of white stone tombs.
I could smell death all around me, see death all around me. I tried to move to no avail. All I could do was turn my head towards the Mount of Olives, across the valley from me.
Then I saw it, a bright tower of light descending down the Palm Sunday road from the top of the Mount of Olives.
I gazed at the light. It was being carried by men – men I could see, but not recognize.
The light grew closer – the faces of the men shone brightly.
The light continued to grow in intensity, then it hit me – the light was The Light – The Gospel.
The men carrying The Light were now clear – their faces radiant and beaming – Pastor Greg Seltz was followed by Pastor Kurt Klaus, who was followed by hundreds of people singing a Hallelujah chorus.
As I “saw” The Light overcome the darkness I thought, “Jesus descended into Hell and the third day He rose from the dead. Whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have life eternal.”
The Light was placed into my hands and I was enveloped by the peace of The Gospel. Hell faded, replaced by the glorious Gospel Light.
My heart rested, I fell asleep until morning. The Gospel carried by these men brought me peace.
Carol came to visit in the morning and asked how my night went.
I replayed the dream for her, her face growing more anxious with each step of the story. Tears flowed freely down her cheek as I told her about The Light of the Gospel and feeling the presence enveloping my hand just before I fell asleep.
She took my hand and shared her fervent prayer spoken through her sleepless night, “Lord, hold his hand and give him a peaceful sleep.” She had repeated that prayer over and over throughout the night.
We sat silent as we each thanked God for His answer to prayer and His divine protection.
A few days later I was lying in bed, alone, with time to reflect on that night – what did it all mean?
My first thought was how thankful I was to be able to rest peacefully in the comfort of the Gospel. My mind began to wander down various trails, one of which was, “How can I share that Good News with others?”
Another took the form of “How can I encourage all to proclaim this Gospel.”
Soon I started to reflect back on my life choices, especially my time at Lutheran Hour Ministries.
It dawned on me. Since 1997 I have led workshops prompting Lutheran Hour Ministries, equipping and training people on sharing the Gospel with others. I would proclaim the Lutheran Hour mission of “Bringing Christ to the Nations…and the Nations to the Church.”
That is what I saw – It was fitting I saw Pastor Seltz and Pastor Klaus – for Pastor Greg Seltz, Speaker of the Lutheran Hour and Pastor Kurt Klaus, my pastor from Child of God Lutheran Church – were proclaiming the Gospel to the nations and ministering to people in the local church. I was “the nations” and I was part of Pastor Klaus’s church – how fitting that was to me.
I reflected on the many years spent in front of the classroom – leading children to new understandings and knowledge. I thanked God that the greatest gift I was able to give to the students was the proclamation of the Gospel – the gift that takes all of our sins, sets them aside and gives us Life Eternal in Heaven.
It has been weeks since that night in Erfurt, but the nightmare still raises its head. When the fires come, I remember the Gospel light and rest easy, knowing that Christ has won victory over Hell, death and gives me eternal life with Him.
During the weeks following the fall I was close to death due to complications from the surgery. My doctors tell me I was very lucky. One of my nurses in the ICU summed it up for me as she leaned in close to my face and declared, “You, Sir, are very blessed.”
Thanks be to God, I am.
It is my prayer that all people will experience that blessing – our life on this earth may end suddenly, without warning. We may not be ready in an earthly sense – Wills, plans and wishes for after we are gone, but we can rest peacefully knowing we are ready – Christ has paid for our sins and we have eternal life.
What a joy and comfort that is.
All morning we were introduced to the city as we took a walking tour of the major sites; The Martin Luther statue, the Merchant’s Bridge, the churches and the Augustinian monastery where Martin Luther was a monk.
Now with a free afternoon we headed out to view in-depth some of the sites we passed through in the morning.
After a quick lunch we headed out for a leisurely stroll that took us to the Merchant’s Bridge where we climbed the bell tower of the St Giles' Church for a panoramic view of the entire city.
Walking through the shops we continued on to the monastery for a closer look at the stained glass windows and the altar area where Luther laid before.
We headed down the old cobblestone streets going in and out of stores as we hunted for remembrances of our visit.
We found ourselves on Anger Street headed back to the hotel when I decided to cross the street. I stepped off the curb and immediately felt my ankle turning as my foot slipped off of the cobblestone and twisted sideways into the mortar between the stones. Feeling the pressure on my ankle I knew I had to lift my foot before I fell backwards and sprained my ankle.
I lifted my foot up high out of the crack and set it down. Immediately I realized this wasn’t going to end well as my foot slipped forward, causing me to stumble. In an effort to keep upright I started to run, hoping my center of gravity would allow me to stand.
It didn’t.
I pitched forward, relaxing as much as I could for the impact, keeping my hands limp and my head up to avoid broken wrists and glasses.
I slammed into the pavement.
I felt the blood on my face and checked my glasses and nose – they were intact, just a large gash down the center of my face. My left knee started to feel warm from the oozing blood – long cuts across my knee. My right shoulder started to ache.
Soon many hands encircled my body and lifted me out of the street. I started screaming in pain, “Don’t move me, please don’t move me, I’m hurt.”
They ignored my pleas and set me down on the sidewalk. A stool brought out from a neighboring store was waiting for me. I tried to move my right arm. The pain was unbearable.
I waited a minute while Carol talked to the store owner about calling an ambulance.
Just then, I knew why the crowd ignored my pleas and moved me from the street as a passing tram (train) raced by.
I shuddered as I realized that I had fallen in the middle of the train tracks. Because I was on a blind curve the tram would surely have ended my life. The crowd saved my life, but the rail shattered my hopes to continue on the tour.
The ambulance arrived and two EMT’s loaded me into the back. Now language became an issue, with only the driver speaking a little English and Carol and I almost no German.
The hospital looked imposing as I was wheeled into the room. The cacophony of sound did little to calm my fears as I could not understand what was being said.
A translator from our tour company arrived shortly after I returned from x-rays and a CT scan on my shoulder.
I had shattered my humerus (upper arm) bone into at least five pieces, severing the bone and driving it backwards into the scapula (shoulder blade). Surgery was needed – now – in Germany.
Surgery was scheduled for the next day and I was admitted to a men only, three-bed ward. Carol was kicked out and I was on my own.
Every move set off stabs of pain through my arm. The heavy-duty pain medication started to work as I drifted in and out of consciousness. Each time I woke the nurse gave me a welcomed shot for the pain.
As the medication kicked in I was transported back in time a few days to our visit to the Concentration Camp at Dachau. We had toured the barracks, heard the stories of cruelty at the hands of the SS guards, walked through the shower area and gazed at the ovens used to cremate the dead.
I woke with a start as the pain stabbed through my body.
It was dark, some ambient light drifted through the shade from the floodlights outside the room.
My vision began to blur as my head began to spin. I closed my eyes.
When I opened them I was staring at the wall in front of me – the blank wall now transformed with images of light and color.
I watched fascinated as two parallel lines of white etched their way across the wall, bending and forming the “SS” of the Schutzstaffel, the guards of Dachau. Soon the SS glowed bright orange – throwing sparks into the air. Where the sparks landed small fires started.
Soon the lower half of the wall was covered with flame. As the flames licked higher and higher, forms appeared, rising out of the flames.
Hitler appeared, smiling. His face was transformed into skull and crossbones. The skull pulsed out towards me when it exploded and was replaced by a pulsating specter that grew and morphed into a human face.
An ordinary human face, male with bright eyes and a toothy smile stared at me. But soon gashes and cuts enveloped the features. The face grew and became more grotesque. I tried to turn away, but I couldn’t, the face held my gaze and refused to let me ignore it.
I felt a presence of evil. The face came forward towards me and then retreated into the flames. I heard screams of torment that sent shivers down my body.
The face melted into the flames while the flames morphed into shapes. They were human in form, but twisted and grotesque as they writhed in agony, screaming for relief. The forms filled the wall and the face dominated the center. It laughed with a howl that caused dread and fear.
My brain registered something. I grabbed the thought, hoping, willing the scene in front of me to vanish. Finally I grasped it – I was glimpsing Hell. Satan was laughing at me, showing me his kingdom. It was as if I was being pulled into Hell and couldn’t stop it.
I rolled over and the nurse came with another shot of pain meds. I must have screamed.
As she retreated and I looked at the wall, Hell was fading, only to be replaced by a different scene.
I looked and saw myself lying across a tomb in the Kidron Valley. I was just under the temple mount, looking across the valley to the Mount of Olives.
It was pitch dark, but I could see glimpses of light reflected off the tops of thousands of white stone tombs.
I could smell death all around me, see death all around me. I tried to move to no avail. All I could do was turn my head towards the Mount of Olives, across the valley from me.
Then I saw it, a bright tower of light descending down the Palm Sunday road from the top of the Mount of Olives.
I gazed at the light. It was being carried by men – men I could see, but not recognize.
The light grew closer – the faces of the men shone brightly.
The light continued to grow in intensity, then it hit me – the light was The Light – The Gospel.
The men carrying The Light were now clear – their faces radiant and beaming – Pastor Greg Seltz was followed by Pastor Kurt Klaus, who was followed by hundreds of people singing a Hallelujah chorus.
As I “saw” The Light overcome the darkness I thought, “Jesus descended into Hell and the third day He rose from the dead. Whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have life eternal.”
The Light was placed into my hands and I was enveloped by the peace of The Gospel. Hell faded, replaced by the glorious Gospel Light.
My heart rested, I fell asleep until morning. The Gospel carried by these men brought me peace.
Carol came to visit in the morning and asked how my night went.
I replayed the dream for her, her face growing more anxious with each step of the story. Tears flowed freely down her cheek as I told her about The Light of the Gospel and feeling the presence enveloping my hand just before I fell asleep.
She took my hand and shared her fervent prayer spoken through her sleepless night, “Lord, hold his hand and give him a peaceful sleep.” She had repeated that prayer over and over throughout the night.
We sat silent as we each thanked God for His answer to prayer and His divine protection.
A few days later I was lying in bed, alone, with time to reflect on that night – what did it all mean?
My first thought was how thankful I was to be able to rest peacefully in the comfort of the Gospel. My mind began to wander down various trails, one of which was, “How can I share that Good News with others?”
Another took the form of “How can I encourage all to proclaim this Gospel.”
Soon I started to reflect back on my life choices, especially my time at Lutheran Hour Ministries.
It dawned on me. Since 1997 I have led workshops prompting Lutheran Hour Ministries, equipping and training people on sharing the Gospel with others. I would proclaim the Lutheran Hour mission of “Bringing Christ to the Nations…and the Nations to the Church.”
That is what I saw – It was fitting I saw Pastor Seltz and Pastor Klaus – for Pastor Greg Seltz, Speaker of the Lutheran Hour and Pastor Kurt Klaus, my pastor from Child of God Lutheran Church – were proclaiming the Gospel to the nations and ministering to people in the local church. I was “the nations” and I was part of Pastor Klaus’s church – how fitting that was to me.
I reflected on the many years spent in front of the classroom – leading children to new understandings and knowledge. I thanked God that the greatest gift I was able to give to the students was the proclamation of the Gospel – the gift that takes all of our sins, sets them aside and gives us Life Eternal in Heaven.
It has been weeks since that night in Erfurt, but the nightmare still raises its head. When the fires come, I remember the Gospel light and rest easy, knowing that Christ has won victory over Hell, death and gives me eternal life with Him.
During the weeks following the fall I was close to death due to complications from the surgery. My doctors tell me I was very lucky. One of my nurses in the ICU summed it up for me as she leaned in close to my face and declared, “You, Sir, are very blessed.”
Thanks be to God, I am.
It is my prayer that all people will experience that blessing – our life on this earth may end suddenly, without warning. We may not be ready in an earthly sense – Wills, plans and wishes for after we are gone, but we can rest peacefully knowing we are ready – Christ has paid for our sins and we have eternal life.
What a joy and comfort that is.
