2 Kings 6:13-17 (ESV)

¹³ And he (this being the king of Syria, the enemy of the Jews) said, “Go and see where he (this being the prophet Elisha, the Man of God) is, that I may send and seize him.” It was told him, “Behold, he is in Dothan.” ¹⁴ So he sent there horses and chariots and a great army, and they came by night and surrounded the city.

¹⁵ When the servant of the man of God rose early in the morning and went out, behold, an army with horses and chariots were all around the city. And the servant said, “Alas, my master! What shall we do?” ¹⁶ He said, “Do not be afraid, for those who are with us are more than those who are with them.” ¹⁷ Then Elisha prayed and said, “O Lord, please open his eyes that he may see.” So the Lord opened the eyes of the young man, and he saw, and behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.

          1981. Marsha and I lived in Hialeah, Florida with our baby son. I was the associate pastor at a church and Marsha was the church secretary. I had just had surgery on my right wrist for a complicated break. (You will occasionally see me wearing a wrist and hand brace on that hand. The surgery was a failure and I still suffer with it.) Life was pretty good. Good friends, good church folks. Hialeah is just northwest of Miami. You can pass from one city into the next without knowing it unless you see the signs. Some people would consider it paradise, but that would just be an opinion. It was, however, a great place to be living when you were 25.

          Our church needed some legal work done over an issue, so on one really hot September day I met our five Trustees at the church, got them loaded in the church’s van and set out for Miami where the lawyer we were using had an office. Arriving in the city, I drove to his building and pulled up to the front door. I let our people out and then I started to look for a place to park. As luck had it, there was a spot open across the road on the curb. I did a hard U-turn and slid in behind a tall cargo type truck. Immediately the places behind me started filling up, so I rejoiced that I had gotten such a prime spot. Rather than sit in the sweltering heat for an hour, I hopped out crossed the street back to the attorney’s office. I got a cup of coffee and got comfortable in the waiting room so I could be ready when the Trustees concluded their business.

          I should note that 1981 was a different time than now. Clergy were expected to wear a three piece suit when conducting church business. Suit jacket, slacks, vest, tie and shirt. Oh, and shiny shoes. I was in the proper uniform, except for the suit coat. Because of the surgery the week before my right arm was encased in a huge cast from the tips of my fingers to my shoulder. Really, I shouldn’t have been driving, but no one else wanted to drive downtown. Because of the cast, I could not wear the suit coat. The shoes, pants, shirt, tie and vest were all in place, so I still maintained proper uniform dress.

          I was struggling to figure out how to hold a magazine and drink coffee when someone came in and said, “Hey, if anybody here parked on the other side of the street, the police just towed them all away.” It took a second or two to register that I had parked on the other side of the street. I jumped up and rushed outside just in time to see a VW bug being towed off. No one was parked there any more. From where I stood I could clearly see the NO PARKING THIS SIDE OF STREET sign right where that tall cargo type truck had been parked. I hadn’t seen the sign because he had been blocking it. The church van was gone.

          This was not good.

          I ran inside and asked the receptionist where they would have taken the van. She told me the police impound lot and she told me where it was located. About twenty blocks away. Quick mental calculations ( I am a mental giant, you know) told me I could get there, get the van and get back before our people were done conducting business. I ran out of the building just as the receptionist started to say something. I ignored her, being a mental giant and all. I was in a hurry.

          That time of the year it is really hot and muggy in Miami. It is hurricane season and it can become so muggy damp that your clothes become sodden in just a few steps. I am in the clergy uniform, minus the suit jacket and wearing the shiny shoes as I ran down the street. In Miami, ten blocks roughly equals a mile, so I am running in high heat and in a suit and shiny shoes. As I say, mental giant.

          After ten blocks I was huffing it. But I had also run into a pretty bad part of town. I slowed to a walk, trying to suck the overheated air into my lungs. Everything I had on was soaked through and my hair (yes, back then I had a full head of hair) was plastered on my head and face. My head was pounding and my arm was just killing me. My feet were screaming at me for trying to run in dress shoes on steaming concrete.

          And it was then that I realized I was being followed.

          Two young men, a little younger than me, were behind me walking along. They, too, were wearing uniforms, although quite different from mine. Ratty jeans and ratty running shoes. Skin tight tank type shirts and do rags on their heads. The uniform of a Miami street thug in 1981. I was walking in the normal manner (normal for someone who had just run a mile in shiny shoes), but they were all swagger. I had turned my head and saw them behind me. When I looked forward there was another young man on the sidewalk ahead of me a half block, also wearing the uniform. I looked to either side down the alley next to me and the one across the street and saw a young man, in uniform, standing in each alley. Larry was trapped.

          Any time I have ever been in a situation, there is something in my brain that clicks. I absolutely hate to fight. Will avoid it. Can’t imagine fighting anything bigger than a puppy now. But my father had taught me to fight. His lessons had been harsh and he wailed on me pretty good, but I learned to fight. Not the Marquis of Queensbury rules, either, but fighting to win. In a one on one with any of those guys, no weapons and me not in a cast, I probably win. But here, I was going to get hurt. I slowly turned and faced the two behind me. Smirks were plastered on their faces. They had something in their hands. Almost like they had practiced it, they each pushed a button and a bladed snicked out. I heard the same sound all around me. I had heard about switch blades, of course, but I had never seen one. My first thought was, ‘Hey, those are illegal!’ Just the thought made me laugh. I looked at the two and said, “OK, let’s do this.” Real brave stuff. The mental giant speaking. But, like I say, something just clicks in my mind and I get stupid.

          The two guys moved forward. I remember thinking I was going to swing my cast and nail someone. After that I would be in real pain from my wrist breaking and the first knife sinking in. What could these guys possibly want? Probably just doing it for the fun.

          Then, they stopped. Their eyes were fixed on a point just above my head. Their eyes widened. The guy behind me gave a gasp and I heard the sound of ratty running shoes hitting concrete as he ran away. The two to either side turned and ran down their alleys. The two in front of me let their mouths fall open, then they turned and ran off, too. They had been looking just above my head, so I looked up to see what had scared them off. And there……

          Was nothing. A heat-hazy sky. Nothing else. I turned all the way around and still saw nothing. No one stood there, there was no great eagle circling just above my head and looking mean. There was nothing except for a quiet that seemed to descend.

          I had to get the van.

          I got to the impound lot and went into the office. A really tall and muscular Hispanic man was sitting there reading a magazine. He didn’t even look up. “¿Qué pasa?” I barely heard him. I was reading the sign that said the tow was $100 and then said $100 for each day and then it said that the day started when the vehicle entered the lot. The mental giant thing kicked in and I calculated that I needed $200 dollars.

          “Ah, yeah, I need to talk to you about the church van that just came in.” He put down his magazine. “The church van is yours?” “Well, no, it is the church’s, but I am driving it today.” “Get out and take it with you!” “Ah, well, OK, but….” “Go, Chico! Now!”

          I went. I got in the van and said, “Geez, what did you do to light his candle?” Mental giants talk to their vehicles.

          I got back just in time to pick up the folks. I never really knew why those guys ran off.

          Unless, of course, they all saw a fiery angel in the sky just above me. Could be. I know most will not believe the tale, but whether you believe it or not does not affect whether or not it is true. And it is true.

         Blessings.