A Supernatural Shove
My senior year in high school I auditioned for a role in the school’s fall production. That year we were performing Neil Simon’s comedy Fools. At tryouts, the drama teacher who would cast and direct the play had us read from different roles in the script.
I connected with one of the lead roles, Sophia, and hoped I would be chosen for the part. I eagerly waited for the day the cast list would be posted.
On that day I held my breath as I approached the bulletin board. I scanned the list until I found my name. Next to it was typed the character’s name: Sophia.
I got the part!
“Thank you, Lord!” I whispered.
None of us who were in the play had ever heard of it before our auditions, but we soon found it to be a hilarious script and fun to perform. The play is set around 1890 in a village called Kulyenchikov. The people there are placed under a curse of stupidity. My character, Sophia, is especially stupid.
When a new teacher, Leon, comes to town, he falls in love with Sophia and believes he can break the curse by teaching her. He learns that unless he can teach her something within twenty-four hours, he also will fall under the curse and become as stupid as the rest of the townspeople.
The play became so popular with the school audience that many parents and students returned to watch it for more than one performance.
I was having the time of my life—except for one thing. In one scene, Leon stood beneath the balcony I stood on. As Sophia, I invited him to climb the trellis to reach me, but as he did so I ran down to where he was standing.
From above, a frustrated Leon would tell me to wait for him to come down. But knowing I would run upstairs once again, he waited on the balcony as I raced back up.
Each time, the audience erupted in laughter. The scene was one of our favorites, but it was difficult to maneuver. During the scene, I rushed down from the balcony backstage and around to enter onstage, said my lines, and then raced to the balcony again backstage. During this sprint, I had to jump over a small gap between the balcony set and the stage. I was nervous about tripping, especially since I had to move quickly to reach the balcony on cue.
The set was sturdy, but because I could see to the floor below, my fear of heights was magnified. No one else had trouble with the spot and I was too embarrassed to mention that I did.
I made it through rehearsals and opening night without a glitch, but the second night brought near disaster. As part of my costume, I wore short boots with heels. They weren’t the easiest to walk in, let alone run.
That night I’d said my lines from the balcony, sprinted to the stage, delivered my lines there, and raced back to the balcony for the next scene. This time as I leaped across the gap, my foot hit the edge of the narrow platform.
Suddenly, my balance was gone. I jolted backwards!
I vaguely realized that metal objects were behind me—stabilizers or supporters of some kind. Whatever they were, I was falling and my head was aimed directly toward them!
I’m going to die!
My arms flailed like windmills as I struggled to regain my balance. No luck. I was tipped back to the point of no return.
Suddenly, some force shoved against the center of my back, propelling me forward three to four feet. I landed quietly and directly in front of the curtain where I was to enter the balcony on cue.
My heart pounded, adrenaline pumping through my body.
I turned to see who had helped me by pushing me forward, but no one was there.
Somehow, though my whole body shook, I managed to finish the balcony scene. I ran backstage and saw my friend in the hall.
“Michael, did you see that?”
“What?”
“I almost fell and something pushed me!” I explained what had happened.
“Really?” He studied my face for a moment, then smiled. “That’s awesome!”
After the performance, I told the other cast members about my experience. They affirmed that none of them had come to my rescue. In fact, they were amazed and didn’t quite know what to think of my story.
The rest of the performances flowed smoothly. After that night, a teacher stood at the gap and helped me, making sure I wouldn’t trip again. The production was a success.
I’ve thought much about this experience since that night. I realize that it couldn’t have been a person who rescued me because that person would have caught me—not shoved me forward—and I would have seen him or her.
I believe that God protected me that night. Did God himself deliver me with the force I felt, or was it an unseen angel He placed there to protect me? I don’t know, but I’m reminded of how in 2 Kings 6, God opened Elisha’s servant’s eyes to see the mountain full of horses and chariots of fire around them. If God were to open our eyes, would we see a heavenly host surrounding us today?
I’m still amazed and humbled that such an experience would happen to someone like me. I find comfort in the thought that as He delivered me that night, He will always protect me.