The defiant challenge had barely left my lips when His answer came -- immediate, unequivocal, and concrete. By concrete I mean physical, because I am of the "Thomas" group of disciples. He knew that even though I believed in Him, I couldn't quite make the intellectual leap to 100%. He wanted me to be so certain of Him that I would abandon my life to Him unreservedly, forever. No more wussy stuff.
My reaction (keep in mind that I became a born-again Christian in 1971) was as follows:
"Y-o-u-'r-e... REAL.
...You're... actually... real."
To my further astonishment, He kept reminding me of His presence, physically, for five months, until I had been safely weaned and placed in the steady care of His servant Charles Price. By the time these physical manifestations ceased, my heart and mind were so completely His, He no longer needed to hold my hand in this way. Now He could begin to disciple me properly, the way I should have been years ago when I first came to know Him.
I've left out the details; even then, I've hesitated to tell this story in a public venue. But the details don't matter. The point of this story is that HE IS REAL. He is absolutely real, and He is unlike anything or anyone we could imagine. Every ounce of our surrender couldn't begin to repay Him what He's worth, but it's all He asks. He asks it because His way is perfect. And, because we fail to understand that His way is perfect, He is relentless. He lets us experience our own failings until they begin to eat us alive and we repent and fall into His arms.
I love You, Jesus. Happy "other" anniversary. You are worth everything.