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This past week I sat by a hospital bed of a man who more than likely will never come home. I walked into the room, and it’s hard to explain the emotions going on in there. I started to initiate some small talk; we talked about his family, his home, and then his condition. I then told him that lots of people were praying for him, and how God can do the impossible. He kindly nodded his head, and then told me about a preacher in his family who came by and seen him. I asked him if he belonged to a church, which I knew sort of his background already. He told me he was practically born in the church. Yet I knew he hadn’t attended in years. We talked some more, and I turned the conversation more toward a spiritual one, and I once again told him that lots of people were praying for him, but then I told him that even though we were praying that he would get better, God might have different plans. I then told him that the only way to Heaven was through putting your trust in Christ. And as I told him this, he looked out the window and …it was as if he knew what I was saying was true, but he didn’t want it. He turned the conversation around to tell me how terrible the hospital food was…and I knew then it was time for me to leave. I said a prayer for him, and then walked out of the room, disappointed. I had presented him with the Gospel of Jesus Christ, yet he chose not to receive. John 1:10-11 says, “He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him.”

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