by Nancy Alcorn
Losing my sister was the first of many untimely losses to plague my life over sixteen years. Less than two years after Beverly’s death we lost two dear family friends. They lived nearby, and our families were always together. All four parents were best friends.
Then in 1966, less than a year later, it was our pastor and his wife who were taken. They were a young couple I had grown very close to after losing Beverly. I was just starting to open up to them about my grief, something I hadn’t yet done with anyone. Now they were gone too as the result of another tragic car crash. That call came in the middle of the night, and from that moment on I could never hear a phone ring at night without breaking into a cold sweat. Our phone was in the hallway, near my bedroom. I hated that phone.
I asked Jesus to come into my heart on August 9, 1972, when my friend from high school took me to a youth testimony service. The death that seemed to surround me served to usher in the knowledge that God’s Son had died for me and conquered death. And because of Him, I could live past the grave too. But the pattern of death continued in my life.
I began praying God’s protection over existing family members and over every baby born into our family. I began telling the enemy he was not permitted to take anyone else through untimely tragedy. At first, praying this way felt awkward because I had grown up being taught that everything that happens is the will of God. But through His Word God was showing me differently.
In the beginning I had no way of knowing if my prayers were making a difference. But it was quiet on the home front, and it wasn’t long before I saw clear evidence that my prayers were working. I was living in Monroe, Louisiana, at the time. The phone rang one evening, and when I heard the concern in my mother’s voice, my heart sank. Following is the conversation as I remember it.
“Nancy, today while your sister Dorothy was out running errands she pulled into a car wash,” she began. “Little Melissa was in the front seat playing with her dolls. When Dorothy got out of the van to wash the car, a man approached her with a gun and, without a word, aimed it at Dorothy and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened.
“Dorothy ran to find help. People’s Bank was nearby, but she slipped on the wet cement and fell to the ground. He aimed at her head and fired again, and still the gun didn’t fire. She got up to run, and he fired a third time to no avail.
“She entered the bank, hysterical, telling them about ‘a man with a gun,’ and they locked all the doors and wouldn’t let Dorothy leave. She pleaded with them to set her free for the sake of her three-year-old daughter who was still in the van with the keys in the ignition, but they would not unlock the bank doors no matter what she said.
“She finally convinced them to let her go, and when she got out, here came little Melissa walking up the sidewalk toward the bank, still holding her baby doll and without a hair on her head out of place. Melissa is safe because the man abandoned the van just a block away from the Ready Wash, leaving his gun and Melissa still inside.
“Melissa and Dorothy are just fine, Nancy.”
I stood there in amazement as I listened to how God had protected my loved ones. After a moment I said to my mother, “This was God. There’s no other logical explanation for it.”
Forensic study concluded that there was absolutely no reason for the bullets to remain in the gun. They shot the gun numerous times without failure. Not only did God protect Melissa and Dorothy that day, but He also provided scientific proof to confirm divine intervention is real.
I am living proof.