Call from a
By The Rev. NORMAN VINCENT PEALE
Author of "Ttio Powar of Poiiliv. Thinking," "Sloy Aliv All Your Ufa,"
"A Guide to Confid.nl living," and "Tho Amazing R.iulti ol Potltiv Thinking"
THERE HAVE been many inspirational
moments in my life, some of which
have been re-created in Frank Ross' bi
ographical film, "The Story of Norman
Peale," and in my book, The Power of
Positive Thinking.
But, ironically, it waa the great success of
that book which caused me my greatest suf
fering and led to the most inspirational
moment of my life. Because of what I said in
the book, I was accused of sugar-coating re
ligion. And since the most vitriolic and hos
tile reactions came from ministers and pro
fessors of theology, the pressure on me
mounted to the point where I decided I should
quit the ministry.
Filled with doubts, I went to visit my
father, who was a country preacher. "Don't
be a fool," he told me. "I know that church
going people in small towns need you. Don't
let the stuffed shirts in the big city drive you
away from the church."
My father died a short time later. As we
stood in front of his grave, my stepmother
remarked, "Before he died, your father said :
'Tell Norman that he preaches true Chris
tianity. Tell him to give no heed to those jack
asses who are simply jealous of the fact that
he sells some books. Tell him to get himself
out of the picture and get Jesus Christ back
into it. Tell him a Peale never quits !' "
But I was still ready to quit. His words
had given me only a temporary lift; in my
heart the doubts continued. I felt rejected, a
discredit to my church, no longer fit to serve
God. Unless I quit I would give a bad reputa
tion to the ministry as a whole.
This was still my attitude a couple of weeks
later. It was late on a Saturday night. I waa
still up but hadn't even prepared a sermon
for the following morning. Instead, I waa
thinking how I should go about resigning. In
fact, I was actually drafting a letter of res
ignation ! About 3 a.m. I received a call from
a stranger. This seemed odd because I had
an unlisted telephone number.
The man's voice was insistent. "I hate to
call you at this time of night, but my wife
would like you to come over here. I'm a doc
tor, but we need a spiritual doctor."
I thought to myself: it doesn't make much
difference anyway because I'm all through,
but aloud I said, "If I called you and said a
member of my family was sick, I'm sure you
would come to see him. I'll be right over."
I threw on my coat and didn't even bother
to put on a tie, which is quite unlike me.
When I arrived at the doctor's house, he said
in a very unemotional way, "My little girl is
going to die. I'm a medical man, and I know
there's no hope. But my wife has a lingering
belief in prayer, and this is pretty hard for
her to take. So I agreed that you could come
here to say a prayer."
I asked if he had any faith in prayer, and
he said, "Not in circumstances like this."
I went upstairs to his little girl's room
she was about 9 or 10. I was very unsure of
myself: I'm no wonder worker, no healer.
T)UT the DOCTOR'S wife believed I could heal
-U the child. I told her we were just going to
put the little girl in the hands of God and
that she had to let the child go and not hang
onto her, even in her own mind. "Actually
the child doesn't belong to you at all. She be
longs to God. You are only an agent into
whose care she has been placed. Whatever
God's will is for the child, accept it and try
to realize that He can do no wrong."
The mother knelt down by the bed, and I
knelt down with her. The husband sat off to
one side. To my surprise, after a while I be
came aware that he was kneeling by the bed,
too. The three of us joined hands. I have al
ways noticed that when people join hands in
a crisis like this, they seem to create a circuit
with God in the midst of them. I suddenly
had a feeling of God's presence.
Hour after hour the woman stayed on her
knees. I remained with her most of the time.
After a while, the husband got up again and
walked around restlessly. Finally it was
morning. The mother went over to the win
dow and opened the curtains, letting sunshine
pour into the room. As she did this, the little
girl stirred. Quick as a flash the father shot
across the room to examine her.
"S
OMETHING has happened," he exclaimed,
tears streaming down his cheeks. "She
has taken a turn for the better!" He was so
elated that he hit me on the shoulder and
punched me in the chest.
Then he looked at me in a curious way.
"No matter what happened tonight, I still
don't believe in your God," he said.
"But believe in Him," I answered. Sud
denly my faith had been restored.
Then I realized that it was morning and
that I should be getting down to the church
even though I had a stubbly beard and looked
terrible. "Is there anything anything at all
I can do for you?" the father asked.
"Yes," I said. "You can lend me a necktie."
My heart was ready to overflow as I left
that happy family and headed toward my
church. I hadn't prepared a sermon, but un
der what better conditions could I preach
than when my heart was so full of gratitude?
I felt inspired, exalted.
That day I decided I had been foolish to
let criticism get under my skin.
From then on, I banished all thought of
giving up the ministry. .
1 2 family Vtrkly. Ayawt 15. 1H3
IUUSTIATION BY NEIl BOYLE
MY MOST INSPIRING MOMENT
Etranger
This noted clergyman-author
was about to quit the ministry when he
received a middle-oj-the-night plea
from an unbeliever whose daughter was dying
! Hour after hour we prayed
1 ; recovery. Her father sat
by her side distraught
but unwilling to believe
in the power of prayer.
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