During World War II, a young man who knew nothing about God or prayer and cared even less, suddenly found himself swimming for dear life. The ship he had been on had been torpedoed. There were other survivors, and he soon joined up with eleven others. They tried to encourage each other and keep from panicking. Then their horrifying situation became even more horrifying. Fuel from their ship had caught fire, and the wind and waves were driving the burning slick toward them. There was no way to escape; the fire was too wide and moving too fast. What could they do?

Just then, the only Christian in the group began to pray out loud. It was the heartcry of one in dire need to the God of mercy whom he knew well: "O God, save us!" And with that, all the others-most of whom had never thought much about God or prayer-followed with, "Please, God! Please, God!"

Immediately the wall of flames parted, leaving a clear, wide path directly in front of them. And what do you suppose God had put in that path?-A piece of debris from the sunken ship that was large enough and buoyant enough to keep the twelve afloat until they could be rescued!

The young man who told this story-the same young man it started with-now says, "No one can persuade me or any of the others that God isn't real or that He doesn't hear and answer prayer!"