The Rev. Lynne Mikulak on a transformational experience

"Bill, Are You Okay?"

I’ve had a long-term pastoral relationship with a patient named “Bill”. In the past he’s attended one of my support groups and has had frequent pastoral counseling sessions with me for the last three years. I generally know what to expect with Bill. But one recent day I paused a little longer in the threshold before our visit because, I learned, Bill had been admitted to an inpatient unit through the emergency room the night before. The doctor said that he was upset about his health status change. Bill was now required to have dialysis.

I entered Bill’s room. He was sitting on his bed looking defeated. We talked about his fears and feelings about dialysis, his feelings of disappointment and betrayal about his body, and his feelings about God and whether and when God is present.

I asked him if we could pray. He sat in a chair near the bed. It was noisy in the hallway; his room was right across from the nurse’s station. I did something I almost never do: I closed the door. After all, this was Bill. What could possibly happen?

We held hands, closed eyes, and I began to pray. I started to notice that Bill was shaking a lot. I heard Bill praying along with me, so I figured everything was fine.

Suddenly a heat wave shot through my body and Bill’s body was shaking in profound pulses. On a pulse that felt seismic, Bill’s body moved off the chair. I opened my eyes. We were both sweating. Bill was on his knees with his head arched back and he was holding onto both of my hands tighter than ever. I have always wondered what St. Paul’s transformation on the road to Damascus might have looked like, and I believe this to be it.

“Bill? Bill, are you OK,” I whispered. I did not want to assume this was a religious experience based on his current medical problems. What if this was some type of seizure? He did not answer me, continuing to whisper inaudibly and to shake.

I tried again. “Bill? Is this medical or spiritual? Just answer me.” Still no verbal answer, only more shaking and praying. Suddenly he let go of one of my hands and swung forward, placing his hand against the wall. “Are you alright, Bill?” Still no answer.

I began to pray other things. His one hand was gripping mine so tightly that it was not possible to let go. One more failed attempt at a verbal response, and I did what I felt I had to do. “NUUUURRRRSE!!!!”, I yelled as loudly as I could.

Bill’s eyes jolted open. “I’m OK. I’m OK. Don’t call the nurse. It’s spiritual. It’s spiritual.” Thank God for fireproof doors in this case, I suppose. No nurse came, inquired, buzzed or knocked. It was still Bill and I together, locked in prayer and the binding of the Holy Spirit.

I helped him to the bed. We talked about his encounter with the Holy Spirit. He said that he hadn’t had this kind of experience since he was a small boy. His body was still shaking. He was crying and was in an overwhelming state of gratitude and grace. I was too at that moment. The shaking slowed.

Bill wanted to walk, stretch out, and get some juice in the patient refrigerator. I opened the door. The nursing and reception staff was sitting quietly and cluelessly behind the counter. Bill and I looked at each other and began to laugh hysterically. We had to support each other we were laughing so hard. That was when we finally caught the attention of the nursing staff. “It’s OK,” I said.

“I’ll see you soon?” Bill said and laughed. “Definitely,” I said and shot a smile back. I smiled all the way down the hallway. That was a Friday. When I came back Monday, I discovered he had been discharged over the weekend.

I saw him two weeks later in the outpatient clinic. I asked him how the religious experience during our prayer in his hospital room had affected his outlook.

“Well, this dialysis might be hard. But I now know one thing for sure. God’s got my back,” he said. Needing to hear himself say that one more time, he repeated: “God’s got my back.”

“Yes, God does have your back,” I replied, immediately recalling the image of him slipping to his knees, arching backward and holding my hands tightly as I tried to support him. “I learned something that day too. I now know one thing more than ever. No matter what the circumstance, God’s got my back, too.”

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