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The walking, talking providence of God

Today I met a man in Israel I will never forget.  Fifteen years ago he was voting in a primary for candidates of the Likud party.  At the polling station, two Palestinian terrorists burst in upon the crowd who were choosing their candidate for the next election.  They sprayed the crowd with automatic gunfire.  Seven people fell to the floor, wounded by the barrage.  The terrorists moved among the fallen, stopping to shoot each one between the eyes to make sure that they were dead.  Six people died that day.  Today I met the seventh.

He was wounded four times in the initial burst of gunfire - once in each leg, once in the arm and once in the side.  The terrorists then put a gun two feet from his face and put a bullet between his eyebrows.  I saw the deep scar with my own eyes. 

The next year he spent in a coma.

Today I met him at the little restaurant he owns outside the gates of the ancient ruins of Beth She'an.  He stood in front of our tour bus full of Canadians and told us his remarkable story. At the conclusion, he said, "I guess God decided that it wasn't my time."  He then gave glory to God for his survival.

Truer words were never spoken.  Out times are in God's hands.  His plan determines the length of our life - and not even a terrorist with a gun two feet from our face can defeat the providence of God if it is not our time.

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