I am a double amputee quadriplegic after having suffered a broken neck in a diving accident in 1968.  My legs were amputated in 2000 due to diminished circulation, cellulitis and open wounds from pressure sores.  I'm not telling you this for praise, pity or any other emotion.  This is about how I began ministering to people without realizing I was doing the Lord's work. 

In 1970 I was lying in a hospital bed after undergoing my fifth surgical procedure in less than 2 years.  My urologist had just removed kidney stones for the third time.  The incision went from just to the right of my navel around my side to a point just to the right of my spine.

As I lie there feeling sorry for myself, eight young men and women came in and surrounded my bed.  Each carried a bible and some pamphlets and were dressed in their Sunday finest.  The young man closet to my left shoulder spoke first asking how I felt.  "Kind of rough," I said, hoping they'd all leave.  "I just had surgery yesterday and it's very painful."   "I'm sorry to hear that," he said. "May we say a prayer for you?"   "Sure," I replied, thinking they'd pray then leave so I could get a pain shot.   "Dear Lord," he began, "please help Mr. Jenkins and ease his pain..." His prayer continued for nearly five minutes, but it seemed more like twenty minutes.  After he said "Amen" he asked if I had accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior and invited Him into my life.  I quickly said yes because I thought I had done so at age 12 when I joined the church.  "Are you certain you're a born-again Christian, Mr. Jenkins?"

"Yes," I replied through gritted teeth and punctuated with a groan.  "I was twelve years-old and asked Him for forgiveness and to be my Lord and Savior."

The man (and I use that term loosely) slammed his fist on my bed rail sending a jolt of pain through my body.  "You lie, Mr. Jenkins!  You're not a Christian!"  His fist slammed the rail at each punctuation mark.  "If you HAD been a born-again Christian, you would have been healed by His Grace by now!  We have prayed for you but you must repent!  Repent and beg forgiveness from our Lord, Jesus Christ!"   A nurse came in just then and told the group they would have to leave and hustled them to the door.  "I'll be right back with your pain medication, Bill."  I could hear her calling to a security guard to escort the group out of the hospital.

Tears flowed down my cheeks, half because of pain and half because I thought my Lord had left me.  I felt alone.   The nurse returned with pain medication and I slid into a deep, drug-induced sleep wondering why Jesus had forsaken me.  I didn't understand.

I happened to be in a hospital that had been originally founded by the Sisters of St. Joseph.  It was the hospital in which I was born in 1950, where I'd had my tonsils removed in '57, and treated for a concussion in '62.  The nuns still came around daily and spoke with any patient that seemed interested.  They always asked if they could pray with each patient and didn't complain if the patient said no.  If the patient said yes, the prayer was very brief and sincere and never questioned a patient's faith or beliefs.   My "run-in" with what I came to call "Bible Thumpers" made me truly question my own faith and beliefs for nearly three years.  I spoke with my dad, one of the nuns, and two ministers from my church about them.  Each of them told me that the "Bible Thumpers" were inadequately educated in how to talk with severely injured people and that true "ministers" would never be so cruel.

Once recovered from my surgery, I began studying my Bible and reading about grief counseling and counseling for those with catastrophic and traumatic injuries.  I had five more major surgeries over the next two years and had lots of time for my studies.

In 1974 my cousin, a nurse manager at another hospital, asked if I would stop by and talk to a newly injured young man who had broken his neck in a diving accident.  I was worried I might say or do the wrong thing but agreed to try.  I spoke with him for about twenty minutes, never mentioning religion or praying.  We talked about sports, girls, cars, likes and dislikes.  He asked many questions and I answered those I could and told him he'd have to ask his doctors about others.  When I left I told him I'd come back on the next weekend if he wished and he said, "Sure."   As I went out the door I waved and said, "Keep the faith."  I visited him every weekend for six weeks.

About the fourth visit I asked if he belonged to a church or was religious.  He said that he attended a Methodist church up until he was about 13 years old, but had not attended recently.  I told him that I, too, was a Methodist and had only recently gone back to church.  Just before leaving I asked if I could pray with him.  When he seemed hesitant I told him, "It's not a requirement.  It's okay to say 'No'," he said that "a short prayer would be nice."  I said, "Dear Lord, please watch over Dan and bless him.  Guide him and help him to make educated decisions.  Help him heal both physically and spiritually.  In Jesus name I ask this, amen."

Since that day I've lost count of how many newly injured people I have counseled.  Some turned me away, but most did not.  While in college in the mid-eighties I took several psychology classes that taught grief counseling and how to counsel those with traumatic and/or catastrophic injuries.  After graduating I kept studying my Bible and reading everything I could find about counseling.

After going online in 1998 I began taking courses at reputable colleges with a goal of becoming a minister.  I became an Ordained Minister in 2008 but discovered I needed to become a Chaplain to counsel people in a hospital.  After a search I found an accredited online Chaplain's school.  After eight more months I became a Licensed Chaplain and I'm now able to say with pride that I am a Christian, a Minister, a Chaplain and a Grief Counselor.

I pray that the "Bible Thumpers" who made me question my faith have truly found theirs.  I bear them no ill-will.  I feel they were just not properly educated as true Christians.  

Rev Wm Jenkins