Chapter Four

God Does A Body Good




Introduction
Chapter One - Motorcycle Madness
Chapter Two - Bumper Cars
Chapter Three - Behind A Badge, But Under The Blood

Chapter Four Chapter Five - Other Sundry but Wonderful Things
Chapter Six - Weather or Not
Chapter Seven - Whooooo Acts Like A Devil
Testimonies of God at Work
Calendar of Events




Copyright 1995 (Come On Now, Angels Aren't Really Encamped About Me, Are They?)
Copyright 1998 (Angels Encamped About Me, Too!) .....the revision




Ouch! That Hurt or This Ol' Body


The day was February 2, 1988. Groundhog Day, and I no idea if the groundhog had seen his shadow or not.

I had been working nights and had gotton home at eight thirty in the morning. I had gone to bed and fell into what began as a good and deep sleep.

At about 9:30 a.m. I was awakened by an excruciating pain across my lower back. It extended from one side to the other. This pain was so intense that I couldn't sleep, lay still or even straighten out. I couldn't even reach the telephone to call my doctor and since there was no one else at home, I suffered with an agony which I had never before experienced.

Later, after about two or three hours of agony, the pain eased. When I called the doctor, he told me to come to his office that day.

As I was traveling to my appointment, I was involved in the accident recorded in Chapter One in the section titled 'Two Wheel Scrape.'

While in his office, he ran the hematology and Chemistry Tests and concluded that my kidneys had failed. He explained to me in detail how kidney stones had formed and destroyed kidney tissue around each of the stones. He even took about fifteen minutes to make me a drawing of a kidney and showing me visually what was happening to me and why he felt that my kidneys had failed.

He showed me the test results and pointed out the following:


He was quite positive in his diagnosis and requested an MRI. This is a fancy X-ray that is by far more revealing and will show how extensive the damage is to each kidney.

He arranged an appointment for me to get the MRI test in a day or two.

In the meantime I had contacted the prayer warriors in the church and gotten into prayer myself about my kidneys. I knew that my physician was an excellent doctor, but I also knew the Great Physician and His medicine is total and complete, and His surgery leaves absolutely no scars.

After having the MRI done, my doctor called to inform me that my kidneys were perfect. I had no doubt that God could and did heal me because Christ took thirty-nine stripes which paid in full for my healing (1 Peter 2:24).

When Word says that by Christ's stripes we were healed. I take this to mean that we have access to our healing even before the illness strikes. "Ye WERE healed. Not ye are healed or ye will be healed, but 'were'.

Our claim to a healing was set forth at the very time when Christ was having His back torn open by the whip. He needed His healing then and had none so that when we ask for it, we would have our healings.

God is definitely an incredible God. He is truly an Awesome God. It was His hand that replaced my worn and damaged kidneys with brand new ones. I believe that if He could create a kidney when he made Adam, He can create a kidney any time.

God cares about each and every hurt we might have, whether it is physical, emotional, mental, phycological or spiritual. He cares about every heartache, physical pain or bad memory that we might experience. He wants to help us in all ways. Sometimes He heals just as He did here, but He also can use the hand of a physician or surgeon.

 May all the Glory be to God.


Back On The Table


In November 12, 1985, I had injured my back. Ultimately, I had to get an operation. From the time of the injury, it took over a year for the doctors to get serious about finding the cause of my pain.

The doctor wouldn't even listen when I would tell him that there was indeed a serious problem. He only gave me the many and various medications, and eventually sent me to the local hospital as an out patient where I would undergo injections in my back.

The last injection was just that. Last!

The injections were bad enough but this particular time was horrible. As I lay on the table, the doctor began pushing the needle into my spine.

He had apparently hit the bone, because the needle wouldn't go any further, so he pushed hard and the needle was jammed deep within my spine.

Immediately, my body seized and the pain shot through my entire body, and the doctor askes, "Hmmm, did that hurt a little?"

"Except for nearly ending up out on the street screaming 'NINE, ONE, ONE! NINE, ONE, ONE!" I answered, forcing myself to speak "didn't have any pain at all!"

Why did I have to endure this? I had been telling the doctor the truth. I told him that there was indeed pain that was indicating something serious. I couldn't move my back without pain. He couldn't understand how I could know that my back was seriously injured, only having some pain, yet not have the terrible pain that accompanies back injuries. Of course he thought, "Who's the doctor here, anyway?" I was certainly the patient and not the doctor.

In the year while I tried to tell him the truth, the devil was trying to lie to me, telling me through the doctor, that there couldn't possibly be any problem with my back. He was wanting to prevent me from having a wonderful and miraculous healing that God had in store for me.

In hte mean time, God was sparing me the pain while allowing me to know there was indeed something very wrong with my back.

Finally, after a year, the doctor ordered not only X-rays, but also a CAT Scan.

Guess what? He found that there was a seriously protruding or ruptured disc. Where was the terrible pain? God had eased the pain or raised my pain tolerance threshold so that I could endure much easier. The minor pain was there in order that I would know that there was indeed a problem.

I found the best surgeon in town. This man had prayed over me just prior to the nurses giving me my sedative in preparation for the anesthesia and operation.

A laminectomy is no minor operation because of its proximity to the spinal cord. One slip of the 'knife' and I would be paralyzed.

Later, in the day, as I awoke, I felt absolutely no pain. I was a little uncomfortable with the patch and tape but no pain. Yes, they brought me medication for pain but it was not really needed. they gave me a bottle of pain pills with codeine to take home with me but they were not needed.

The nurses taught me how to lay flat on my pack and how to get up from the bed so there would be no pain. Since I didn't haveany pain, I figured that I could get up and down however I wanted.

I hadn't realized how perturbed nurses get if you don't listen to them, but I did find out soon enough. With no pain, I decided to lay comfortably.... Then the nurse arrived. I thought they had revived the German Gestapo. Was she ever angry! You don't want to get one of them angry with you. I did,,, and you won't like it...

When they finally sent me on my way home, they told me to rest and gave me various specific instructions and was ordered to follow them under no uncertain terms. Of course, I had already proven how I listen to the nurses.

At home, I had no pain and felt ridiculous lying around the house. I decided that it would be nice to be able to ride my motorcycle so I went to the garage. I stood and looked at it wanting to ride it.

I decided that if I wawnted to ride, I'd better practice getting on and off which I did. For two weeks I'd get on and off. I'd start it up and run it for a while then practice getting on and off again.

After these two weeks, my surgeon told me that I could start driving and getting around, but I was to take it easy.

Me? Take it easy? Come on!... So I asked him if I would be allowed to ride the bike.

Adamantly, he said, "NO!" I informed him that while my bike was a larger motorcycle, it was well balanced and had a smooth ride.

He said that I was only to work at getting on an off for a while. On and off! I'd been doing that for the last two weeks. I wanted to do more.

With reservation, he gave me permission. I immediately went home and took my motorcycle for a drive.

Where was all the pain? It was in God's hands. He was in full controll of the entire situation. He wanted to work a miracle to prove His power, love and care.




Correcting The Deviate


In 1989, while I was noticing that I couldn't hear some of the notes which the musicians were playing. They would seem to vanish at certain frequencies. I had, at times, wondered if my amplifier was working properly.

Needless to say, I had gone to my Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor to get a check-up. During the examination, the doctor found several things which needed attention.

My throat was fine, I had a degree of nerve deafness along with tone deafness (he said that if my hearing was any worse he would have me fitted with hearing aids), and my septum was deviate.

What kind of testimony was this? This might sound like a terrible testimony but it is a testimony that gives Glory to God. Think about this. Many people can say that they have had hearing made good by the hand of God, but how many people who have tone deafness can play music and sing on key. God had to do this.

First, God has given me the ability and talent to sing. When I was a reen, I had what I consider a below average voice but I still wanted to be the best country music singer ever. Back then, there wasn't much of a requirement for a singer to have a lot of talent so I figured I would fit right in. Besides, I couldn't even read music. I would listen to a song I liked, and play it by ear.

In 1972, I received Christ as my personal Lord and Saviour. It was then that my voice began sounding richer and I was noticing what sounded like a rather poor quality vibrato in my voice. I didn't have that before.

On into the seventies, I found that I was recognizing notes, bars and measures, including all the other little squiggly things on sheet music. I was learning to read music without studying. God Himself was teaching me these things. he also taught me to play the six and twelve string quitars in the sixties and now he's giving that a little fine tuning.

In the eighties, He taught me the four and five string bass guitars, and the keyboard.

I've had no other musical education except a little coaching by Terry Ross, who was one of the best music directors I've ever served. Even then, the personal coaching was minimal.

Secondly, I have tone deafness, yet I sing praises to the Lord. I had even played and sang for one and a half years (1993 - 1995) in a Gospel group called the 'Going Home Band'. There is no way one could do this except by the power of God who kept me in tune and playing the right notes.

You might ask, "Why doesn't God heal your hearing?" If there was a healin, there would also be room for doubt. Think about it! There is, in fact, a wonderful testimony here which is far greater than a healing. Here's a hard of hearing, tone deaf man in a music ministry. This can only happen by the divine power and grace of God.

Later, in early 1997, I was in a little country church near Yellville, Arkansas. When they had asked for prayer requests, I told them about my hearing tests and how my hearing was getting worse. An ear doctor had wanted to give me hearing aids and I didn't want them.

They had me go before the church for prayer. A man came up behind me and while they prayed, he put his hands on my ears. I heard some loud crackling sounds inside my ears. I didn't know what to expect from that point, but I believed that God did something.

The next day I Felt as though I was coming down with a fever. I asked my wife to get our thermometer so I could check my temperature.

Our thermometer was one of those elctronic things that beeps at you when it's done. I didn't know if the beeper worked or not because I never heard it. I would just wait about five minutes and then read it.

As I was waiting for my five minute limit, I heard this noise. It went "Beep beep,,, beep beep,,, beep beep..." I wondered what that was. My wife who was sitting across from me said, "Honey, it's beeping." I was so amazed that I heard it that I reset it and took my temperature again. It was so good to hear that "Beep beep,,, beep beep.... " sound.

Oh, isn't that so sweet of Teresa calling me, "Honey?" She calls me all kinds of little names like that, like Sweety Pie, Darling, Dear,,,,, Sounds like she's done forgot my name.

Anyway, I knew then that my hearing was restored. I was sitting in my favorite chair, and I began hearing this,,, "tick,,, tick,,, tick,,, tick,,, tick..." I couldn't figure out where it was coming from. Finally, after searched for it several minutes, I discovered that it was a battery operated clock on the wall, three and a half feet away from me. I actually heard it ticking. I never heard that before. It was so wonderful.

Since I didn't really intend to get into all that, I'll get back to the doctor's office. Where was I,,, Oh, yes, we were discussing the straightening of a deviate situation. Namely, my nose; and anyone who knows my nose, knows that will be a very major operation.

While in the doctor's office, he asked me if I'd had any trouble breathing through my nose. I affirmed that, "yes, I'd had sinus problems for years,' then he proceeded to tell me that I had no real sinus problem, but rather, I had a deviated septum.

"A deviated WHAT?" I thought, "What is a deviated septum anyway?"

As he answered my questions, he told me that if I wanted to have it corrected so my breathing would be easier, I could get in touch with his office for the details.

I thought a moment and realized that in a few months, I would have to work over the Christmas and New Year holidays. I hadn't worked those holidays for about two years. What a brilliant idea. Since it was only September, I told him that if he could schedule it to include the holidays, I'd let him go ahead and re-break my nose and set it again. He said that he could,,, and he did.

In case your interested, I got the my nose broken when I was fifteen years old. My best friend gave it to me. Astually, we were arguing about who a girl two blocks away liked best. We both thought that she was our girlfriend and we each fought for her. What a foolish thing to do. She didn't like either one of us. Silly, huh?

Well, I finally went to the hospital in mid-December on the same day that my Dad was admitted for an abdominal hernia.

Since Dad and I love a little humor, I couldn't pass up an opportunity like this. While at the admissions office, I asked if they could put my Dad and me in the same room. The lady said she would try.

When I was taken to my room, there was my Dad in the other bed. Look closely at what we had here. Two Mr Snurr's in the same room. What more could we ask for?

I think you've got the idea now. When the nurses would come into the room asking for Mr Snurr, we would both answer. This got them for a while when each new shift began, then they started passing the word around. We had to come up with new trick now.

Then they began asking which one of the Snurr's had the nose job or the hernia. When they asked about Dad, I would answer saying, "Huh? Me? Huh?"

We soon discovered that the nurses were pretty smart. They began checking charts.

Hmmmmm. Charts. Charts? How tempting. I pondered over it for a while but decided that I didn't want a hernia operation and I knew that Dad wanted nothing to do with getting his nose packed. I figured I'd leave them alone.

That evening after my operation, which went beautifully, we couldn't pull anything on them. Though Dad was only having tests at the time, here I was with my nose stuffed to the brain.

The next day the doctor was to unpack my nose and send me home. Most people pack up and go home, but I always did have to be a little different.

How bad could it be to get my nose unpacked? They just pull out some gauze, right? WRONG!! I definitely learned something that day.

The doctor came into the room and asked if I was ready to unstuff the turkey. "Sure," I said. He had a sense of humor, too.. ... I think. Mayby he was just being personal.

He removed the bandage, and took his fancy, stainless steel, store-bought pliers and while he reached for my nose, told me that he was just going to remove the packing. OK. Go for it!

Gently he grasped the gauze then quickly yanked back as far as his arm would reach and "OOUUCCHH!!!!" Looking through my watering eyes I saw six feet of gauze dangling between his pliers and my nose. I thought, 'Hurry, get that last little bit, Doc'. He placed his end of the gauze in a steel pan.

As he reached for my nose again, I thought, 'Why are you smiling, Doc?'

Again, he clamped onto the gauze and he yanked. 'OOUUCCHH!!!!'. By now my eyes are so watery I can hardly see him. I could sense my Dad grinning. Now we had about twelve feet of gauze in the pan and it was still attached to my nose.

Now, I admit I have a nose that tends to dominate my face but I had to ask myself, 'How many rolls of that stuff did he put in there? I hope he didn't use any brain apace for this.' Then I saw his smile again.

Leery of him by now, I eased back a bit when he reached for my nose a third time. I began wondering where I put my suitcase. He clamps,,,, and pulls OUCH!

One of the greatest blessings I've ever experienced was when I saw the other end of the gauze. I asked him, "Hey, Doc, is there anything else up there that you need to get?"

"Of course," he reminds me, "We do have the other side.

He went for my nose again and quickly pulled,,, OOUUCCHH !!!!! I practically stood up on the frame of the bed. He did this again, and finally came to the end. How could he get over twenty-five feet of one inch gauze in my nose? This must be one of those great unexplained instances of natural phenomenon.

Then the doctor tells me that I can go home,,, but,,, with orders from him: "First, do not sniff... Second, no blowing the nose."

When I asked him what I'm supposed to do when I get a runny nose, he tells me, "Oh, yes,,, there will be drainage." and he hands me this thing resembling a miniature feed bag for under my nose.

I looked toward my Dad. There he was laughing almost uncontrollably.

Later, as I was getting ready to leave, I decided that I was not going to wear a feed bag in public. It would be so embarrasing and I didn't want anyone trying to put a saddle on me.

After I arrived at home I realized that there was absolutley no drainage, therefore, no need for my feed bag. I thank God that He takes care of even our little concerns. Things like the embarrassment of wearing that thing. He saw to it that I needn't wear it, and He allowed me to have the holidays with my family.

Through it all, the only discomfort was the temporary pain I had to endure when the doctor 'unstuffed the turkey."


Childlike Faith Teaches Dad A Lesson


One hot summer day in 1980, I arrived home from work to find my daughter, Krista, had received a very severe sunburn while at play that afternoon. Krista was only six years old and weeping from the pain.

I recalled what I had been taught about cooling a sunburn. I called her to the bathroom and explained that we were going to lay her in the tub in warm water. We would then drain a little and put in some cold. Drain a little more and, again, put in some cold water.

This would continue until the pain was drawn out by the cool water. I told that it would probably take a couple of hours for a burn like that to cool down.

To encourage her, I explained that I had a burn just like that when I was about ten years old. Mine resulted in many blisters from head to toe, except where I was covered by my swimming suit. I empathized with her and told her that I knew how bad it hurt and that I knew her pain. After she was in the water for about ten minutes, I saw tears run from her eyes and down her cheeks. She cried out saying, "It hurts, Daddy!"

Then I started thinking a little differently. Thinking I could teach her a Biblical lesson here, I asked this little six year old if she remembered who the Great Physician is.

She told me that it was Jesus.

I said, "Krista, just go to Him. He took thirty-nine stripes across back so you could have your healing today." I explained 1 Peter 2:24 which says, "...by His stripes ye were healed." Not that we might be or will be. Thjis says that we were healed two thousand years ago by the stripes of Jesus Christ.

I watched as the child's eyes closed. Her tears were still falling.

After a few moments she opened her pretty, baby blue eyes. As her tears stopped, she told me that she was ready to get out of the water.

The devil tried to steal a wonderful thing here. He lied to me saying that she was still needing to stay in the water. I told her, "Kris, you're not done yet. You need to stay there a lot longer."

This little child who had enough faith to believe what I had told her only moments before, knew that I had told her the truth and that Christ could heal her. Then she proceeded to teach me a lesson in faith.

She raised herself up and as she slapped her ever-so-red shoulders she said boldly, "But it don't hurt anymore. Can I get out now?"

Since I, the teacher, was so aptly admonished by a six year old, concerning faith, what could I say? What could I do? There was only one thing to do. I helped her out of the tub and thanked her for the very pertinent lesson.




The Power Of The Prayer Of Faith


One Friday, while I was employed at the local community college, in the mid 1980's, I had I had worked as a mail clerk. While making my rounds, the receptionist told me a heartbreaking story.

As I entered the Administration Building, I heard Mona greet me as usual. We would generally spend a few moments chatting and this day was no different.

Knowing that I had accepted Jesus Christ, she asked, "Joe, do you believe in prayer?"

Answering boldly, I said, "Why, of course!"

"Do you believe that if you pray for someone, they can be healed?" she continued.

Seeing that she was now on the verge of tears, I said, "Absolutely, Mona, What's wrong?"

She then told me of her little five month old granddaughter Stephanie Shantz. I was told that this baby was diagnosed as having cancer of the colon. I was stunned to hear of a baby that small having cancer.

She asked if would have our church pray for Stephanie. The Word tells that we are supposed to pray for the sick, so I assured her that there would indeed be prayer and that there was nothing to worry about because I know who Jesus is (2 Timothy 1:12) and Jesus can totally heal her little granddaughter.

That weekend, as I sat in the choir loft at the church, I listened to Bro. Bob Hodges sing the beautiful song titled 'Rise And Be Healed'. When he had finished singing and was stepping away from the microphone, Pastor J. A. Strong asked Bob to sing it again because of the powerful message.

Addressing the congregation, he asked those who were sick, in any manner, to stand up and receive their healing. As the music began, people all over the building began standing up. There were those who were sick in body and those, also, who were emotionally and spiritually ill. There were people whose finances and marriages were in a need of s healing. Many of us realized that there were many ways for a person to have a sickness.

As the song progressed this second time, I felt the presence of the Holy Ghost urging me to rise up. By this time there were many at the alter receiving the healings they were in need of but I thought, "I don't have a need for a healing."

More and more people were coming forward and I still felt the strong urging. The Holy Ghost began building within me and urgency which was so strong I could not deny it. There must be something I need. I couldn't remain sitting.

As I up from my seat, Jesus impressed on me that there was a little baby named Stephanie who was ot in our church and was not able to rise up on her feet if she were here. But I was here. I could stand for her. By faith she could receive healing. She also, has a Biblical right to have a healing from that cancer.

On my feet, I continued down from the loft toward the alters. There were many, many people there already, but I found a little spot at the end of the alter where I knelt down before God and pleaded for little Stephanie's healing.

After praying for a while, I was given a vision concerning Stephanie.

I saw Stephany lying in front of me. She was not on a table, but rather floating. Everything was brightly illuminated. Then I saw a great hand reach down and into Stephanie's abdomen and pull out what looked like a black mass of slime.

Immediately, I knew that Stephanie was healed. There was no doubt in my mind.

Monday morning I entered the lobby at the college where I met Mona again. We chat for awhile, then I told her of my experience. I told her that I felt that Stephanie would be fine.






To Continue In Chapter Four




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