Redeeming Passion Ministry

How is it that we lose contact with our first love? It is because we have lost contact with our own story. We have been on our Christian walk so long, we have forgotten where we started and how we got there. It is up to us to remind ourselves of our own testimonies and to also seek encouragement and edification through the testimonies of others. In 1 Corinthians1:5-6, Pauls says this:

"For in him (Jesus) you have been enriched in every way–in all your speaking and in all your knowledge– because our testimony about Christ was confirmed in you."

On this page, we will feature personal testimonies to Christ. You can read how Christ has changed others lives and you can share the reality that is Christ in you. We will update this page and feature a different person as often as we get new testimonies.

If you are interested in submitting your testimony, click the link below.

Angel's Wings
Nancy N. Daniele
September, 2005

“It's 8:30. Where do you want to go for breakfast?” my 80 year old father asked my mother as he sat in the straight chair against the wall of the hospital room.

“Oh, I'm not really hungry,” Mother replied.

“Well, do you want to go to Macdonald's?”

“I don't think I need anything just yet. I'm fine.”

“We could find a Bob Evans, I think. Didn't we see one coming in? Could you give us directions?” my father asked me, as I lay waiting for knee surgery.

“I'm not hungry right now,” repeated my mother.

“But we usually eat breakfast at this time.” Fidgeting with his hands, my father was obviously ready to be anywhere other than here.

“It's O.K. You go eat breakfast. I just have to lie here and wait for an hour and a half,” I assured them.

Almost immediately, my father stood up to leave, coming to my bedside to hug me. Next, Mother came to the side of the bed, told me she loved me, gave me a hug, and they were gone, the room suddenly empty. Taking stock of what should come next, I realized that I had not sent my personal belongings, my purse and school briefcase, with them. Turning to the blood pressure and oxygen monitors, I started to remove them to get out of bed and call my parents back. Buzzers went off immediately which elicited a call from the nurse's station, but no parents. I assured them I was fine as I lay back on the bed in frustration.

When the nurse came in a short while later to insert the IV, I questioned her sharply on the antibiotic of choice. She listened patiently as I expressed some of my frustration at the seeming haste of this surgery and the remaining questions about procedures that might do me more harm than good. Knowing my medical history, she left the room, and I could clearly hear her calling my doctor to request a second check of the suitability of the antibiotic.

As I listened, I realized that I needed to quit fussing and allow the Peace of Jehovah Shalom to fill the situation. After all, I had committed this whole procedure, filled with questions of Malignant Hyperthermia and other special needs, into the hand of my Heavenly Father. I, who had parents and children and several caring friends, still lay here, by choice and by chance, alone. I had foreseen that possibility too late to change.

Suddenly, without any warning, while I lay listening to the conversations in the hall and at the nurses' station, there was what can only be described as a slight swishing. The sound was so very quiet, and yet, as surely as I knew my parents stood by my bedside just a few moments before, now there were others standing there, completely surrounding my bed. Muscular and tall, wings folded, arms crossed, legs in military stance, all of these angels stood around my bed, facing outward, shoulder to shoulder--except two. The angel at my right elbow put his hand on my forehead; the one at my left elbow put his hand on my chest. I was completely at peace. The noise of the hospital still swirled outside of my room, busyness of preparations for the other patients whose surgeries were, like my own, scheduled for the morning. And yet, in my room, I was not alone any longer. These beings were there to protect, to minister love, to let me know that my Heavenly Father did, indeed, know I was there alone, in the earthly sense. And He wanted me to know I was truly NOT alone, in the sense, the REAL sense that mattered.

As I lay, simply trying to take in the fact of their presence, a question began to form in my heart. Why had they come? I had not asked, had not prayed specifically for them to come, had not been fearful, and had even been crabby with the nurse. Why, then, had they come? The answer? Truly, they had come in response to other's prayers for me in this situation. I was overcome with the immensity of my Heavenly Father's love for me, to let me know of their presence, to let me know the effect of my friends' prayers. And I knew I was to tell all who prayed for me that day what had been the effect of their prayers.

The time seemed to go quickly until the O.R. nurse came to take me to the prep room. We chatted like old friends as we quickly moved through the halls to O.R. prep. My sense of the angels was not as acute, but they did not leave. Once at O.R. prep, the nurses and I chatted and laughed about many things.

“Yours is the first smile we've seen here all day,” one said to me.

“Life is too short and too fragile not to laugh. I collect jokes,” I replied. She simply shook her head.

Almost too soon, a reserved older man of far-eastern descent came to my bedside and began a routine checklist for anesthetics. It included, of course, the life threatening details for MH. I earnestly told him I was not comfortable with a spinal anesthetic.

“Then we won't use a spinal,” he quickly assured me. “I have other things I can use.”

“I know; I've done my research on the web,” I told him. When the checklist was finished, I reached out and took his hand. “You are a direct answer to my prayers,” I told him.

He looked at me with questioning eyes.

“I prayed for an anesthesiologist who would hear me,” I told him boldly.

“Oh yes, I listen. I always listen to my patients,” he said soberly. Then, with twinkling eyes, “My wife taught me!” The whole O.R. prep room broke into laughter.

How can I say that laughter from this team was anything but the overwhelming power of the Presence of the Holy Spirit and the ministering angels? Surely, an anesthesiologist who would listen to my needs and my wishes, nurses who would joke as they did the pre-op preps, even my young surgeon who would let me question him about insurance coverage and gently tease him about his good looks just before we moved to the OR, all were most certainly influenced by the Presence and Power of God through His messengers.

I woke in recovery talking coherently, a miracle in itself. Truly, I had not been alone. And I am to tell all who will hear that their prayers brought the Presence of those angels to carry the love of family, of friends, of my Heavenly Father to my heart and to others. I am to tell, and I have. Rejoice. Emmanuel is come.