His thoughts floated back again to himself as a nine-year-old in Sunday School, “I remembered myself singing “Jesus Loves Me,” and I could feel it inside me. I’m not going to think anymore; I’m going to ask him.” “I’ve got nothing else to lose.As a child, I thought Jesus was really cool and he was my buddy and he would take care of me.” “But even if Jesus is real, why would he care about me? I’ll give Jesus a try.” A cry for help Then he yelled into the darkness, “Jesus, please save me!“I was almost all gore.” Immediately he recognized Jesus, the King of Kings, the Rescuer, the Deliverer.“His arms reached down and touched me and everything healed up and came back together,” he recalls.As he stood there, he noticed he didn’t feel the pain in his stomach. I want to go back.” “You’re almost there,” one replied. Howard fought back, but he was horribly outnumbered. They did other things to humiliate and violate me which I don’t talk about.” When Howard was no longer “amusing” to them, he collapsed on the ground, ripped apart, unable to move.He felt more alive than ever, and his senses seemed more heightened than usual. Hurry up.” Howard left the room and started to walk with them down a long hallway, which was very dimly lit – almost dingy. “We had a big fight and the fight turned into them annihilating me, which they did slowly and with much relish,” he says. He lay there motionless for a few moments, completely spent.
“I was glad I didn’t have the pain, but also I was very confused and disturbed by the situation.” “I saw my body lying on the bed, but I refused to believe it was me. They walked a long time, and Howard wondered why he was not tired when he had just suffered the worst day of his life. I don’t even believe in God.’ Then he heard the voice a second time, ‘Pray to God.’ ‘But I wouldn’t know how to pray even if I wanted to pray,’ he thought. It sounded like his voice, but the words were completely foreign to his own thinking.“I was a know-it-all college professor, and universities are some of the most closed-minded places there are,” he notes.On the last day of a three-week European art tour he led, his group had returned to their hotel in Paris after a visit to the artist Delacroix’s home and studio.“He filled me with a love I never knew existed.” Then he picked up Howard, like one football player picking up a fallen teammate on the field, put his arms around him, and Howard cried like a baby in His arms.“He carried me out of there and we headed to where God lives.” In his mind, Howard began to think that Jesus made a terrible mistake.