Encountering the Mysterious

By David Hobbs

It was a Sat. afternoon in Sept. of 2006 and I was having my first book signing at our local Christian Bookstore for my just-published book, Out of the Fire. All my friends from church came out and bought copies, which meant I sold more than I’ve ever sold since in a signing.

Half way through the event a woman came up to my table. I think she said her name was Chris or Christine, but like everything else about her, there is some question about that now. I took her to be around 40 years old but I couldn’t begin to describe her. No mental picture comes to mind. She was a white woman, that’s all I know for sure.

She said she worked for the Marysville Fire Dept. across the river--in the office, not as a fire fighter. She told me that God had her there in part to help the fire fighters with their marriages and relationships. We talked about the high percentage of fire fighters’ marriages that end in divorce, and some of the reasons behind it.

The more we talked, the deeper into spiritual things we got, and the more fascinated I became. She said she knew about divorce firsthand. She and her former husband had married as Christians, but he fell away and put her through all kinds of hell. Still she didn’t feel released by the Lord to divorce him, but rather to wage war against the devil for his soul, even as the attacks of the enemy through him grew stronger.

But there came a day when, as he was about to strike her, she looked into his eyes and suddenly heard the Holy Spirit speak out of her: “Charles, I have given you ample opportunity to repent, but you have refused. This is your final call. Fall on your knees before me now and cry out for forgiveness. You will not have another chance.” The words were calm and measured, but every hair on her body stood up, and Charles’ red, angry face turned ashen. He froze in place, unable to speak. Finally tears began streaming down his face and he choked out, “I can’t! I can’t!”

They got divorced soon after that, and Charles’ life went rapidly downhill from there until his death not long after. (Sorry I can’t remember those details.)

I was still reeling from that story when she started telling me about her son. He was a special gift from God, though I no longer recall the circumstances of his birth. But I do remember this: when he was about 18 months old and barely able to talk, one day she noticed he was looking at her in a strange way. “What is it, son?” She asked.
“There it is Mommy,” he said, pointing at her. He was talking clear and plain like he’d been doing it all his life.
“There what is?”
“That look you had on your face.”
“Look? Well .…What ….”
“That’s the same look you had when I pointed you out to Jesus in heaven and asked if I could have you as my mommy.”

She was really blowing my mind now! I didn’t even know what that doctrine was called, but I was sure we didn’t believe in it. But she wasn’t trying to convince me of doctrine. She was just telling me what had happened with her son.

We talked about other things that I no longer recall. After she left, all I could think about was her and what she had said. “The ladies in our church need to hear her speak,” I thought. She had spoken so calmly yet with simple, profound conviction. I wanted to speak with her again: write her stories down; make sure I had heard them right; see what else she had to say.

On Monday I went over to the Marysville Fire Dept. No one there had heard of her. They didn’t have any employees that came close to matching her description. I thought maybe I had heard the name of the department wrong. I went to the Yuba City Fire Dept. and others in the area, all with the same results.

Every book I sold had gone through me. The people had given me money, and I had written their names down and given them a book. But she was not on my list. Then I remembered: she wanted to buy the book with a credit card, and had to do so at the counter, since I didn’t have a credit card machine. Hers was the only book I had no record of. I never saw her again, nor was I able to get any information on her, even to confirm her name.

Many of you might dismiss this story out-of-hand, which we tend to do with anything we don’t understand. That’s your prerogative; but then it’s not your story. But what was its effect of me, the recipient?

I felt it was a supernatural visitation of some kind that was meant to encourage and inspire me.

After all, it had taken 16½ years to write my book. It had been a long, difficult road, but also a maturing process. As I worked on the book, the Holy Spirit worked on me. Now, after all that struggle, setbacks and travail, the book was finally seeing the light of day in its first public unveiling. I think God sent someone as His representative to the event. After all, the book was dedicated to Him: it was the story of all He took me through to show me He was real, and that he loved me. And my desire was that it would steer many others His way. I had finished it at His direction, and published it according to His command. Why wouldn’t He send a representative to acknowledge the event and show His pleasure?

But then who was she, this representative of God? My guess is: an angel. The Bible talks a lot about that. But how about her story of working for the fire dept.? She said God had her working there and I believe that was true. But as an angel she works for Him and not for them and is usually invisible (so she wouldn’t exactly be on the payroll). But how about her husband and child? Do angels marry? Don’t try to form doctrine based on this story! That’s the flaw of the western, rational mind. She might have been the guardian angel for the woman in the encounter she was telling me about. There is no way of knowing, which means that’s not the point of the story. The Holy Spirit's purpose is not to stir up idle and unprovable speculation.

To me it is a treasured experience, just as the Bible says that Mary treasured up experiences in her heart, most of which she didn’t understand.

The Bible says that “deep calls unto deep,” and when I have experiences like that, they call up deep things in my spirit. They stir a hunger deep inside me, a yearning for that realm, the realm of the eternal, the supernatural--the realm of the habitation of God.