The Face Of God
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        This is a strange story and I have heard it so many times before. You know: What is the face of God? But this time I actually saw it for myself; I mean, I heard it directly from the mouth of the Witness. “94" was the year of the great floods in the breadbasket states. Hundreds of people had been killed by the swift river waters and in addition many graveyards had been swamped. National Health Agents  recruited young men to retrieve the bodies of those killed by the flood and those unearthed by the flood waters. Three of us were assigned to a boat. It was our job to find and tag the bodies for the big barges to pick up. We had been working in the swollen, muddy, now soft churning, river waters for about seven days, tagging bodies, coffins, bones and skeletons dressed in their Sunday best. Everything was routine and all of us had gotten used to it until we came upon the Witness. At first we thought he was dead but as we got nearer and nearer we could hear him talking. He had crawled up the sand bar and seemed ok except for the small patch of blood on his left shoulder. It was my turn to steer the boat and I guided it next to him. We wrapped him in a blanket and gave him some hot soup. He sat up, and we listened, as he told his story:

       “The tributaries of the flood waters surprised me as I was driving along Route 23 on my way home. 23' is on the ridge and  almost two miles from the river. I knew about the flood but felt safe because the road was on high ground. Well, the next thing I knew, the car was being carried away by the current and I was fighting to get out. When it hit a sand levy I jumped out and climbed to the top of the levy. I sat there praying and praying for the Lord to save me. Then I see this little old dark brown skinned women with large eyes and straight black hair, rowing an old wooden boat right up to the levy. She told me to get in and be saved. But I said the boat didn’t look safe to me and I would wait awhile. She pleaded with me three more times but I said no! She left and the water started rising. I kept praying and asking my Lord to send someone to rescue me. In about fifteen minuets, along came a boat loaded with men and women all dressed up like they were going to church. As the boat got nearer one of the men shouted “Asalaam Aleikum my brother. Come down and get in the boat”. No! I shouted, I am waiting for my Lord to save me, you all keep on going, I will be alright! They left and I kept praying and praying. About ten minuets after they left, the water was nearing my feet and I began to pray louder and louder. Then, I mean it was like a miracle; this big white boat, like the river gambling boats, coming upstream against the flood waters, and I could hear this singing. The people were standing on the front deck, the Captain and men, women and children, hands raised toward the sky, faces looking up at the clouds, singing “Precious Lord .....Take My Hand”, and I waved to them, shouting.....here I am ......save me.......help me! But they never looked at me.....they never heard me. Suddenly as the back of the boat was passing by, I heard a sharp crack like a rifle shot. The pain was in my shoulder....I fell down. I must have become delirious because I was at the gates of Heaven asking to see the Lord. A tall blond angel took me into this large palace. I shouted, I want to see the Lord! Instantaneously, in a bright flash of light, The Little Old Lady In The Boat appeared, filling the room and me as though I was inside of her, as though I was a part of her and she a part of me...She looked like my Mother! I ran from the palace through it’s golden doors and out of the heavenly gates.”

He stopped talking and started singing “Precious Lord......”. Was God’s face your Mother’s face I asked? He kept singing “No, no, not my God .......Take my hand”. Was the face of your Mother the face of God I asked? He kept singing ”Lead me on..... no. no, not my God”. We tried to get him to get into the boat but he said he would wait for the big white boat to come back, rescue and take him to his Lord. I backed the boat away from the Witness. We left him standing with his hand raised upward, his face to the sky and singing louder and louder “Precious Lord......Take my hand.......I am weak” and in between he would scream “No! No! ...Not My God!”.
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