A transformative season of supernatural encounters, divine orchestration, and prophetic confirmations that shaped a calling to reach the nations.
When God Orchestrates Supernatural Encounters
Between the ages of 19 and 32, I experienced a series of supernatural encounters that were marked by precise timing, prophetic confirmation, and divine orchestration. These were not isolated incidents, but part of a larger pattern—what I now call Divine Appointments.
Each encounter involved hearing God's voice, stepping out in radical obedience, and witnessing His faithfulness in unexpected ways. From picking up hitchhikers to experiencing physical healing to receiving prophetic words from strangers—God was training me to live a supernatural life.
This season laid the groundwork for everything that followed—teaching me to recognize God's voice, to trust His timing, and to expect the supernatural in everyday life.
A Hitchhiker, A Command, and A Soul Saved
During my college years, I spent summers working the night shift at Greyhound Bus Lines in downtown St. Louis. The work was grueling: unloading heavy freight, loading bags in sweltering warehouses, often until the early morning hours.
Yet those summers became spiritually rich. Instead of eating during my 30-minute breaks, I often knelt on the cold, dirty concrete in the employee locker area and prayed. There was no comfort — no chair, no pillow, no mat. Just surrender. It was there, on that hard floor, that I began to sense God forming a pattern of discipline and devotion in me.
One night during such a prayer, a sudden impression struck me with unmistakable force:
"Pick up a hitchhiker after work. Share Jesus with him."
No face. No name. Just a command.
Later that night, my supervisor asked me to stay 30 minutes overtime. Exhausted, I hesitated. But I felt the Spirit's nudge: "Trust Me with the timing." So I agreed.
At 3:30 A.M., I finally clocked out and began the drive home along Route 3 — a dangerous road cutting through Brooklyn and Venice, Illinois, towns infamous for crime and drugs. I prayed aloud in the car:
"Lord, please — don't let him be in the worst part of town. But if You say so, I'll stop."
And then I saw him. A hitchhiker. He had no shirt on, standing in the dark, exposed and vulnerable.
Stopping felt reckless — even foolish. Every instinct told me to keep driving. But the Spirit's word was still burning in me. Against logic, I pulled over.
The young man climbed into my car. His breath smelled of alcohol, his words slightly slurred. But he listened.
I immediately began sharing Jesus with him — that God loved him, that Jesus had died for him, that this ride was not an accident but an assignment. He listened quietly, surprisingly open.
At my tiny efficiency apartment, I gave him my bed and slept on the floor. The next morning, I cooked him breakfast and invited him to church.
At the altar call that Sunday morning, he rose from his seat, walked to the front, and publicly surrendered his life to Christ.
He prayed the Sinner's Prayer with tears. He was saved.
This encounter taught me several things about walking with God:
This encounter foreshadowed my calling: to hear God's voice clearly, obey immediately, and trust Him with the results.
This Strange Event teaches us that:
Secret Generosity, Sovereign Reunion
Exactly one year after the hitchhiker encounter, I again found myself working summer shifts at Greyhound Bus Lines in downtown St. Louis. This time I was spared the grueling bus driveway and reassigned to the air-conditioned information desk, helping customers plan routes by phone. It felt like a mercy — a small reprieve in a season of labor.
One afternoon, a call came in from a young woman in Columbia, Missouri. Her voice trembled with urgency and grief. She had just discovered — too late — that one of her parents had died. The funeral was that same day in St. Louis.
She begged for a way to get there in time. I checked the schedules. Miraculously, there was a bus departing within the hour that could deliver her just in time for the service. She wept with relief.
But when I ran her credit card, it declined.
Her sobs deepened. Hope shattered. In that moment, something holy stirred in me — an unmistakable impression from the Spirit: "Cover her fare."
I didn't have much money, but I obeyed. Quietly, I put her on hold, went to the ticket counter upstairs, and paid for her bus ticket myself.
When I returned to the phone, I told her: "Your ticket is covered. Hurry to the terminal."
Overcome with emotion, she asked my name. But I declined. I wanted no recognition. I remembered Jesus' words:
"When you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing… then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you." (Matthew 6:3–4)
I instructed the agent not to reveal me either.
Hours later, near the end of my shift, the agent called again with urgency. "I'm sorry to go against your wishes, but she refuses to leave until she meets you. Please come upstairs."
Reluctantly, I did.
At the counter stood not only the young woman but also her brother. To my astonishment, I recognized him instantly.
It was Art.
Years earlier, at a YMCA summer camp, Art had been my senior counselor. I had shared the Gospel with him then, though he showed little interest. I prayed for him faithfully, but over time he faded into memory.
Now here he was, standing before me in shock. He looked at me and said:
"Pee Wee" — my old camp nickname — "that Jesus of yours did this."
What seemed like a small act of secret generosity became an undeniable demonstration of God's sovereignty.
This Strange Event reminds us:
Skepticism Shattered by Sovereign Healing
After graduating college, I moved back to my hometown. My grandfather, a generous and practical man, owned a modest apartment building and offered each grandchild a free year of rent. It wasn't glamorous, but it was safe, and more importantly, it was within walking distance of a small Spirit-filled church that quickly became my home.
It was during this season that word began to spread through the congregation: a faith healer was holding revival meetings in a strip mall in North St. Louis County. People were talking about miracles — real healings they claimed to have witnessed firsthand.
I was skeptical. Scripture was clear: "These signs will follow those who believe…" (Mark 16:17). Yet in my heart, I assumed this was trickery, emotionalism, or even deception. Surely this man was exploiting innocent people.
Driven by suspicion, I decided to go see for myself. My motive wasn't faith — it was critique.
The healer's appearance did not help. He was flamboyant, almost clownish in his outfit, and theatrical in his delivery. Everything in me bristled.
But then something shifted. As he preached, a tangible electricity filled the room. The atmosphere was thick with faith and expectancy. People surged forward for prayer. And one by one, it looked as though they were genuinely being healed.
Then, to my shock, he pointed straight at me:
"Young man, come up here on stage right now!"
I obeyed, nervous but curious. Looking me over, he declared:
"You were born with a defect in your spine! One leg is shorter than the other! But God is about to heal you."
He sat me in a chair, lifted my legs for all to see, and prayed. Before my eyes, my shorter leg visibly extended. I heard a pop — a shifting, an alignment.
The imbalance was gone. I stood, stunned. I was healed.
I had entered that meeting skeptical, even cynical. I left shaken, awed, and undone.
Not by the man — but by God.
The Bible was no longer theory. Healing was no longer history. The supernatural had invaded my body in real time.
Though my faith had been weak, the atmosphere of faith in that room — and the boldness of a man I had dismissed — had been enough. God, in His mercy, had healed me anyway.
Looking back, this Strange Event taught me several profound lessons:
It echoed Naaman in 2 Kings 5, who resisted Elisha's simple instructions until humility unlocked his healing. Like Naaman, I had to bow my pride before I could rise in wholeness.
This Strange Event teaches us that:
Sovereign Encounters Beyond the Body
I was 32 years old, living on the northwest side of Chicago with my wife and three small children. It was a season of discipline and intensity. By day I was building a fast-growing business. By night I was a father of three little ones under the age of five. And in between, I was committed to ministry in our Vineyard church community — leading Bible studies in our home, investing in relationships, and drinking deeply from the teaching of John Wimber, Steve Nicholson, Happy Leman, Rich Nathan and other Vineyard leaders.
Often, late at night after my wife had fallen asleep, I would walk the main floor of our home, pacing and praying — for my family, for victory over temptation, for wisdom in my work, for revival in our city.
On one of those nights, I fell into a deep sleep. And what happened next was unlike anything I had ever experienced.
This was not an ordinary dream. It was not a vision. It was not even what I would later recognize as a "night encounter." It was something different. It was a translation.
I became aware of myself hovering above my own bed. I could see myself and my wife lying there asleep. The experience was terrifying. I felt intense pressure — almost like atmospheric compression — as I moved between dimensions. I had no control. I could not will myself to wake up or to stop it. For a short time, I seemed to move about the room, observing, aware that I was outside of my physical body. Then, with that same overwhelming pressure, I was pulled back into my body.
When I awoke, I was trembling.
At the time, I did not have language for what had happened. I used to call it an "out of body experience," but I have since learned to avoid that phrase because of its association with occult practices such as astral projection. Those counterfeits involve a person willfully partnering with demonic influence to attempt to leave the body.
What I experienced was the opposite. I did not choose it. I did not pursue it. I did not even expect it. God sovereignly initiated it.
It happened to me three or four times during that season — each time equally terrifying, equally undeniable.
In hindsight, I believe God was training me. This was not about spectacle or curiosity. It was preparation for a prophetic lifestyle in which the supernatural would be normal, not occasional.
Scripture itself bears witness to similar events:
Each of these encounters was initiated by God, not man. Each carried the weight of revelation and purpose.
For me, the key lesson was this: God is sovereign over the supernatural. The enemy counterfeits what God originates, but the real thing is under His authority alone.
This Strange Event teaches us that:
YWAM, Nations, and a Word That Changed Everything
I was 33 years old, living in downtown Chicago with my wife and three young children. Life looked successful from the outside. I had founded my first company at age 30, and within four years, it had grown from nothing to over $30 million in annual sales. I had just completed a lucrative exit, securing an employment agreement and a generous severance package.
On paper, I had achieved the dream. But inwardly, I was restless.
My wife and I had been praying earnestly about a radical shift — leaving behind the business world for a season and entering into missions. We had discovered Youth With A Mission (YWAM), a global ministry training families for international outreach. A particular program caught our attention: three months of training in Hawaii, followed by three months of hands-on ministry in Southeast Asia.
The idea thrilled us, but it also terrified us. Could we uproot our family? Would our children thrive or suffer? Would we survive financially? Was this God's will or just a romantic notion?
We prayed. We wrestled. But the answers didn't come.
Then came the unexpected. A close friend from college named Tom phoned me. He invited me to attend a special service at his church that weekend. A team of visiting prophets — men known for remarkable accuracy — were scheduled to minister. It felt random, but something in me said, Go.
We arranged a babysitter, and my wife and I went.
The worship was powerful. Then the prophets began to minister. One by one, they called out people, speaking specific details about their lives — secrets only God could know. People wept as the words pierced their hearts.
And then, one of the prophets looked straight at me.
"The man in the back with shorts and a Nike visor — please stand."
My heart pounded. I stood. He stared intently for a moment and then spoke:
"I see the word 'YWAM' written over your head."
The air seemed to leave the room. He continued:
"I'm not saying you will be part of YWAM, but you will have a ministry like YWAM. You will go to the nations. You will reach many."
It felt as if time stopped.
In an instant, God answered the deepest, most agonizing question of my heart.
The word was not vague. It was specific. It named exactly what I had been praying about in secret. And it did more than answer the question — it expanded the vision.
This wasn't about a program in Hawaii. This was about a destiny to reach nations.
I was undone. Overwhelmed by the tenderness of God's love, by His precision, by the undeniable reality that He had heard me. I wept. My wife wept. Everything had changed.
Looking back, this event confirmed several truths about the prophetic:
The word "YWAM" was symbolic. It wasn't about joining that specific organization. It was God's way of saying: "Your future will be marked by missions, training, and international impact."
This Strange Event teaches us that: