Blog 131
August 26, 2019

gas station


You might also want to look at the widely read blog WISE ON THE MIDDLE EAST from Robert L. Wise, Ph.D. which features weekly updates on little known facts about Israel, Egypt, Jordan, Iraq, Lebanon and Syria, countries where he has traveled and worked.


The grief from death is one of our most difficult struggles to overcome.

Death leaves a hole that nothing can fill. When the deceased is close to us, grief seems to never end. When we wake up each day, we think maybe there is something that we should have done, but there never is. At times, we will forget that they are gone, and then we remember and our heart breaks all over again. Trying to tell someone what we are going through seems impossible, but to someone who has already known such a loss, resonance comes immediately.

Jack Jenkins knew exactly what I am talking about. Today, Jack lives in Bailey, Colorado in the Rocky Mountains. He said to me, “God knows about our problems and he truly cares.” The emotional undercurrent in his words told me Jack knew.

Jack began telling me about his first wife. They had a good marriage and life seemed great. Her early death left him struggling and feeling the depth of depression. He had to struggle along with never-ending grief. The journey was difficult.

Somewhere as he was trudging along on his life’s path, Jack ran into an old girlfriend he had known in High School. They had been close and really liked and enjoyed each other. However, as so often is the case, they drifted apart after graduation and didn’t see other for years. They both married and had great families. But her husband also died. Then they found each other again. The reassurance and joy they received from each other was truly a new beginning. They married and once again Jack was back on an even keel. Depression had been put to bed.

Not long after they married, his new bride had to go to the doctor. The diagnosis overwhelmed both of them She had pancreatic cancer. Three weeks later she was gone.

Jack’s recovery and best hopes were destroyed. He plunged into the deepest despair. The grief would not go away. Jack crashed.

Some months later while Jack was taking a trip, he stopped in a filling station and went inside to buy some candy. At the end of a long hall, Jack saw a vending machine. The closer he got, the more he realized it was one of those dispensaries with junk that kids liked. However, there was nothing inside except one badge that had GOD written across the front. Jack was astonished and got the little medallion out. On the back was written, “Cast your cares on Him for he cares for you. Jesus died on the cross for your pain.”

Jack instantly knew that message was for him. God was reaching and asking Jack to cast his grief on Him. With tears rolling down his cheeks, Jack hurled his overwhelming load of grief at the foot of the Cross. He asked his heavenly Father to heal him.

He did.

Jack’s grief disappeared and the apprehension vanished. There was still a hole in his life where he had lost his two best friends, but the pain was gone. Jack was healed.

No one can escape the fact of death, but Jack’s experience is worth remembering. We are included in that promise that we are cared for.


Blog 105 December 24, 2018


MIRACLES NEVER CEASE DO YOU HAVE AN EXPERIENCE TO SHARE? Robert Wise would be delighted to learn about your divine intervention. If you have a story to share, please contact him at He’s looking forward to hearing from you.


Miracles and divine interventions come in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes they are surprises that remind us that another world exists besides the concrete shapes we call everyday reality. That other world is referred to as eternity, the transcendent, or even heaven. We hope we go there, but really have no idea what the celestial realm will be. The scripture simply doesn’t tell us.

Several years ago, I wrote Crossing the Threshold of Eternity that was full of near-death experiences and what they can teach about the “other side.” Regal books published this collection of encounters that shed light on the beyond. This past week I ran into another one of those discoveries.

Lyndell Jaquemont is a relative I’ve known for over fifty years. We eat lunch together once a year and catch up on what’s been going on with relatives near and far. Unfortunately, this past year her husband passed away and we got off on what happens after death. She told me this story.

Her mother and father divorced when she was a child and she grew up with little knowledge of her father, Vernon Chappell who had remarried several times. Her grandmother Clara Corbin didn’t like what he had done and was ready to give him a piece of her mind every chance she got. Of course, Clara died and had been gone for some time.

Lyn had reached adulthood when Vernon ended up in the hospital. The condition proved extremely serious. Lyn discovered he had called a couple of his children, but not her. And then he died.

Lyn felt he had rejected her. She was the first of his children and there had always been distance, but after all, Vernon Chappell was her father. The fact he didn’t call lingered in her mind and became a painful, depressing source of resentment. The sense of rejection lingered.

Lyn was lying in bed ready to go asleep. She had entered that twilight zone just before one is completely gone to dreamland. She abruptly realized two people were standing at the foot of her bed and looked up. Vernon Chappell and Clara Corbin were standing there looking at here.

Lyn couldn’t believe her eyes. Not only were they both dead, Vernon and Clara had been foes, but there they were like old friends.

“I’m sorry,” Vernon apologized. “It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about that telephone call I failed to make. Everything is okay.”

Suddenly, they were gone and the end of the bed was empty. Lyn knew the experience had to be real because the two avoided each like the plague during their lifetimes but were now together. She had no doubt that she had momentarily stepped over that line into eternity and experienced a form of a divine intervention.

Lyn’s depression evaporated like fog in the morning sun and never came back.

WE WON’T BE BACK TILL NEXT YEAR! We’re on the road until after Jan. 1. So the next blog will be January 7.