KATHRYN KUHLMAN ...
Vivid in my memory is the time I sat with her in a grubby stage dressing room in Orlando, Florida. The miracle service was over. The people were gone. But she was weeping. Sobbing almost uncontrollably. I wanted to reach out and hold her, as a father would comfort his broken-hearted daughter. But I dared not touch her.
The anointing of God was still upon her, and I knew that she had to remain alone in her sadness. There was but one shoulder she was allowed to rest her head upon, but one heart from which she could draw comfort. Her heavenly Father. I knew from past conversations with Maggie and others who were closest to her that she invariably left the miracle services and stood in the darkness, weeping.
There were so many in so much pain—and so many souls lost in the darkness of their own guilt and condemnation—and she was but one woman. One frail, ordinary woman—with a heart as big as the heart of God. It’s no wonder that in the end, she died of an enlarged heart, beating and expanding until it tried to claim the entire world for Christ.
I saw her, on dozens of occasions, take a child that was lame, maybe paralyzed from birth, and hug that child to her breast with the love of a mother. I am convinced she would have, at any moment required of her, given her life in exchange for that child’s healing. She would hug bleary-eyed alcoholics and mix her tears with theirs. And the prostitutes who came to her meetings, with tears smearing their mascara, knew that if they could but touch her, they would have touched the love of God. And those little old women, hobbling along on canes and crutches, some of whom couldn’t even speak the English language, but were drawn by the universal language of love. No man could have ever loved like that. It took a woman, bereft of the love of a man, her womb barren, to love as she loved. Out of her emptiness—she gave. To be replenished by the only lover she was allowed to have—the Holy Spirit.
- Jamie Buckingham (Daughter Of Destiny)