“Bless and do not curse.”
Mrs. Gerda Forster, while babysitting for a neighbour, suffered the misfortune of having the baby fall out of her hands. The infant was injured on the edge of a large vase, with resultant brain damage. It was paralyzed for life.
The mother cursed Mrs. Forster that her fingers might rot. Mr. Forster offered to pay large compensatory damages. The mother refused and repeated the curse: may her fingers rot.
Mrs. Forster suddenly started to have great pain in her fingers. The fingertips became first white, then blue. It was a case of necrosis, the malady known as “morbus Raynaud.” Psychic trauma can produce it, usually in women already possessing a precarious nervous constitution. The fingers had to be amputated.
When I was in solitary confinement, a neighbour tapped out his story in Morse code through the wall: “When I was six, I beat a schoolmate only because he was Jewish. He cursed me that my mother should not be able to see me when she was on her deathbed. Fifty years have passed since. I had just received the news that my mother was dying and intended to go to her deathbed when I was arrested.” A curse had been accomplished. I know of other such cases.
I do believe some curses are fulfilled. But so are blessings. So bless, don’t curse.
Excerpted from Reaching Toward the Heights by Pastor Richard Wurmbrand, VOM’s founder.
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