I have been witness to more miracles than a man is entitled to in his lifetime. More, indeed, than I can count on fingers and toes. But this event holds a certain fascination for me more so than some of the others. I have always been fascinated by the constraints of time; its unbending, immobile motion always forward. Those fictional characters who escape its confines draw me like a moth to flame. And while I’d like to believe H. G. Wells, Arthur C. Clark, Jules Verne and others, my God says, “It is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgement.” Hebrews 9:27. In other words, there are no ‘do overs;’ no matter how much I want to Quantum Leap certain events differently in my life like Sam Beckett. So I was completely taken by surprise when God answered my prayer one day and turned back the clock a full hour.

The spiritual lesson I learned that day was that God is true and faithful to his promises and that when we have faith and press on in that faith no matter what setbacks or discouragement we face, He delivers. The event even now, sustains my faith; a moment in time that proved to me things are different with faith than without it. Let me tell you about the ‘event.’

I had been going through a reformation. A spiritual revival after years of being a ‘dormant’ Christian. I had gotten my children under their own will and power to consent to attending church every Sunday with me. I was growing in wisdom and knowledge daily In the word of God. It was a time of testing and encouragement. It was also an appropriate time to do something about my body.

I had lost some weight by running and had been encouraged to set goals. I had registered for the Charleston Distance Run in 1992. I was weeks away from the event and was stepping up my game. I discovered that the distance between the Elkhurst Bridge (a quarter mile from home) and Hartland Bridge, both in Clay County, West Virginia, was three and a half miles. The same distance exists between the Hartland Bridge and the Pisgah Bridge at the town of Clay. Seven miles one way, seven miles back: fourteen miles; the same length of the Charleston Distance Run held annually in Charleston, West Virginia. While I had been doing the Hartland and back run, daily, I had yet to double it to Clay. I thought if it took me about an hour to cover seven miles, it should only take me two to do fourteen. Boy was I naive.

I had been using these runs to be in perpetual prayer while I was jogging. It was my quiet time with Him. As I started out from the house I was full of energy, and hope and encouragement. I felt like there was an unvoiced promise between me and the Lord. If I didn’t give up he would meet my goal. I would have to return to the house within three hours. On these runs in the past, the Lord and I covered a lot of ground, figuratively, as well. With fresh air and endorphins pumping through the body you have a lot of thoughts running through the mind. You can lose yourself completely in prayers, and lists of things you’re thankful for as well as pondering texts you studied that morning. After a time you look up and wonder how you got as far as you have without noticing. The other thing you lose is a sense of time. Even though your body and mind seem to be covering miles it feels like hours. And when you realize that you haven’t made the halfway mark a little panic begins to set in. Why didn’t you bring that watch? You try to pick up the pace but this is the place you are used to reaching your goal. Your body is beginning to believe it is done but your mind knows this is only the half-way mark. You need to summon more than courage and strength. You need endurance and determination. Now, all thoughts, even prayers escape you; you’re just breathing and a throwing one leg in front of another trying to hold the energy level.

Some encouragement came when I got back to the Hartland Bridge and I knew I had a little more than three miles to go. That’s when I saw them pull up behind me and slow down. It was my wife in her station wagon and my daughter was hanging out the window, “Daddy. Daddy,” my fifteen year old daughter yelled at me. I pointed to my wrist, yelling back, “What time is it?” As they pulled away she yelled, “Ten till eleven.” As they disappeared in the distance I tried to run and do math in my head. “Eight to nine, nine to ten. ..” Then it occurred to me: I had three miles to cover in ten minutes or miss the three hour deadline. At first the shock gave me a burst of adrenaline. But as I struggled to clear a thousand feet in what seemed like five minutes my strength left me. My disappointment was physical and as my hope evaporated so did faith. Now I know how that little freshette got there a quarter mile from the Hartland Bridge. The Devil put it there knowing I would be by.

The small waterfall stream coming off the bank looked so inviting to a weary runner so tired, so hot, so defeated. As I stood under the water, feeling sorry for myself, and letting the cool relief pat on me. My thoughts turned back to the Lord. How about our understanding. I do my best, and . . . What? Was I REALLY doing my best? What was this pity party. Was I doing my best? When Abraham thought he was defeated he went down to Egypt. So did his son. The Bible is full of examples of people who gave up instead of plodding along in faith. What was I doing in Egypt? But then can God REALLY stop time? Can he really turn the clock back? I had to decide if he could let me cover three miles in five minutes by foot. I thought: would Abraham have died of starvation if he stayed in Israel? Would Ezekiel have been caught and killed by Jezabell if he hadn’t fled away in fear? Do I REALLY believe God at his word?

A new energy rushed over me once I decided I did believe God could somehow miraculously meet every need, even turning back the clock. I prayed that He would, believed that He could and got up with new vigor. I would later read in His word: “But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk and not faint.” Isaiah 40:31. I didn’t run like the wind, but as every minute ticked by I was not discouraged. God would deliver if I did.

I ran. I ran. I ran. As I got close to my home the dogs announced my arrival to all who were in the house. My daughter Leona come bounding out of the house, jumping off the porch and running to me. “Daddy, daddy I’m so sorry! I read the clock wrong! It was only ten to ten when I told you eleven. It’s only ten thirty now.” Before she got to me I dropped on my knees with tears of joy. My daughter at that time did not see a miracle. But I surely did. I guess it is in how you define miracles. A miracle is the supernatural intervention into the flow of natural laws that generates a conclusion hoped for, even prayed for, that should not be the expected end by natural course. Even if He did not really turn back the hand of time, if it was all just the devil trying to de-rail me, it was a miracle indeed, that believing myself defeated, God could change the outcome if I chose to believe him. It’s as if he were sticking it to Satan, “See! So there!” Whether time changed accidentally or intentionally, either way God delivered on his promise that he would meet me where my faith was. He proved to me that he rewards faith in kind. I still live by that lesson he taught me that day: in faith I believe he will provide even in times of apparent hopelessness. Now, I never give up. Between the two of us, I am the only one capable of letting me down. Praise God.