As a single woman, managing an airport, I have discovered that I need divine intervention on a regular basis — along with a few others in my path. My testimony below:
A pilot was stuck on the ground desperately trying to get his airplane started. After a couple of hours, the Lord said, “Go help him!”
Not exactly sure what God had in mind, I headed to the hangar. “How’s it going?” I asked the stranded pilot.
The pilot shook his head back and forth. “Not very good. I need to get home.”
“Well, around here, the grandchildren and I ask for mechanical angels and the blood of Christ when we want something to start,” I explained candidly.
He looked up at me. “It probably does need Jesus.” He then asked me for a screwdriver to bump the cylinoid to determine if the starter was broken.
After a couple of failed attempts, I stepped forward and laid my hand on the starter. “Jesus fix the starter,” I commanded. “Cover it with the blood.”
The pilot attempted to kick the prop over one more time. When the prop instantly spun the poor frightened pilot jumped as if the plane had shocked him.
I grinned. “Jesus heals – even airplanes.”
I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. Psalm 121: 1 & 2
