Snippets of Reality Within The Prodigal Band Trilogy: Real Spiritual Experiences

I and those I know have had interesting spiritual, or what could only described as spiritual, experiences. In a previous snippet I told about a scary outcome while involved in a Ouija Board event with two friends while “calling up the dead.”

This post is about what, I truly believe, were good spirits that turned bad situations into events that awakened good spiritual tidings and not only impacted my writing of these novels that make up The Prodigal Band Trilogy, but blessed my life even more.

In 1971 heading up into Canada along the New York State Thruway with at least five other left-wing activists as well as atheists in a car with nearly bald tires in bad stormy weather the vehicle skidded off the highway into a guard rail then was sent across the northbound lane covered with traffic into the island between the north- and south-bound lanes. I had told myself we were going to die, that we’d be hit broadside by on-coming traffic. But we weren’t. The vehicle had minimal damage and a tire did go flat, but the vehicle was hauled into a repair shop and an hour or so later we were back on the road.

While standing outside the vehicle I asked those around me: “Now why would God save a bunch of atheists?” They laughed.

But from then on in, I was no longer an atheist! I knew God had to exist! What else would have prevented us from being killed in a car crash? Oh, and did I mention that guard rail, where, on the other side of it was a hundred foot drop?

Then in 1972 I was with this same leftist group and another woman and I were putting up posters for a conference of like-minded leftists in Cleveland (later moved to outside Detroit) to be held in a few months. Late in the afternoon while in Manhattan we slipped into Manhattan College on a Sunday and started putting up posters, then got into an elevator to go to upper floors.

The elevator stopped between the second and third floors. Stuck. On a Sunday. And guess what? The following day, Monday, was Yom Kippur!

Anyone that knows anything about living in and around NYC knows that ALL community colleges and other educational institutions are CLOSED ON JEWISH HOLIDAYS! So who the heck was going to rescue us that Sunday evening or the following day when the school would be closed?

And another thing. We had no water, no food, no toilets–and I had my menstrual period! And the elevator was cold! I was almost freezing in that elevator. As my friend tried to see if she could get us out of there, all I had to try to keep myself warm were those posters which I covered myself with. With the bucket of poster glue we had a way to urinate.

So on Monday morning of Yom Kippur around 6 am or so we heard a person outside the elevator shaft, a janitor. We called for help, and he got us out of there!

Was this ‘man’ an angel? To this day I believe he was. After all, if a college is closed on Yom Kippur, then would some janitor be working there?

After that event, I definitely believed in God! And though I did go to the conference (which was infiltrated by the FBI according to sources I knew back then), I left the conference early because I had a job to go to the following day, so I flew back to NYC that afternoon. Then I quit the group.

Then in 1997 having already published Battle of the Band which ends with a spiritual scenario, what I witnessed was a miracle of truly Biblical proportions. It happened on the last Saturday of February, 1997. No way would I make this up just to embellish a novel! I will not go into detail over this, but the second snippet below does give a similar scenario.

The first snippet, from Chapter Eleven of The Prodigal Band, which revolves around a disaster scene used in previous snippets has the prodigal band caught up in a white void where they encounter spiritual beings. They were ‘caught up’ into this void because a bomb within their jet was set to go off right after the ‘catching up.’ The jet had just landed at a London airport. The band members would be attending a ‘Directorate meeting.’ Bobby, a former roadie whom had turned Christian, also appears as a ‘spirit being.’


All the while, only Mick, the tallest, bothered to look up. “There’s another dot.”

No one else could see it as they were looking straight ahead. “Where?” some said.

Pointed. “Up there. I wonder if it’s flat up there.”

“You know,” Erik cut in, “I’ve hardly even noticed we’ve been going uphill.” He turned to Keith, standing next to him on the right. “Remember, bro, how hard it was going up to Bobby’s?”

Curious look. “Yeh! You right! I’m not tired at all, and this road or whatever is quite steep.”

“Defies all logic, doesn’t it?” The dot had become a figure of a man.

All of them froze, suddenly chilled to the bone, speechless. Hyperventilating.

“Bobby!” Jack exploded. “Wha—”

The others had calmed.

“Yes, I have the image of Bobby. You’re right, Bry, this is a construct, and you’re right, Erik, this is like the place you and Keith were in when your hearts stopped. But this place is three-dimensional, yet without shadows, so it only looks two-dimensional. Plus, there is no wind, no temperature, no taste, no touch, no smell, and no sights and sounds other than what is necessary.”

“So, this isn’t Heaven,” Tom conjectured.

“No, but you have been raptured.”

Keith blurted, “Then this IS—”

“No, it’s not THE rapture. Just A rapture.”

“Why?” Jack asked.

“You were taken here to keep you safe. Your jet is on fire.”

A collective “What?” fired out of their mouths.

“Yeah. Someone planted a bomb under, or right next to, Bry’s seat. They botched the job, because it didn’t explode properly. Mainly, it is smoldering, smoking. The thing of it is, though, it could ignite something else. The jet has landed, okay, and one of the pilots is starting to investigate.”

“But what if the pilot sees we’re gone?” Tom asked.

“He won’t. When he gets back to your cabin, you’ll be there, unharmed. The other pilot will have called for help by the time the first pilot realizes what’s going on.”

“But we’ve been here a long time,” Jack said.

“There is no time here. You were taken out of time. It might seem like you’ve been here a long time, but in fact, on Earth, no time has transpired at all. This really is a three-dimensional space. Earth exists in four dimensions: length, width, height, and time. There is no time here.”

The second and final snippet, from Chapter Thirteen of The Prodigal Band, which had also been referenced in a previous post, takes place in a dungeon at a manor of the leader of an evil group called the Hellyons. Since the bomb plot didn’t get the desired result, the evil group set up a sacrifice scenario to get the band to give their ‘oath’ to the evil Corion, their ‘god.’ On a stone altar about to be impaled with a sword is the singer, Erik. The one Corion spiritually inhabited, Mark Besst, was getting ready to impale him if he did not take the oath which Corion would ‘pray’ in order to have him, and then the others in the band, make his choice.


Corion began. “On the morning of the 6th of June, 1986, your band leader pledged your soul to me, Corion, god of darkness born in light, as payment for your success, as well as the souls of your fellows. I have allowed you to achieve that success and all the trappings of it. You and your mates have reveled in those trappings, your debaucheries, your idol status, your desire to do what you wished with no consequences, and you thinking it was you that caused it all, your ego abounding into a godhood you thought you had.”

As Corion spoke, a Spirit within Erik called to him. What this minion of evil says was true, but do not listen to this evil, because you have made a change of heart, and have repented in heart and repented in word. Because you have called on Christ in His Name, His Spirit resides in you. Now, let this Spirit speak out of your mouth to rebuke this evil.

As Corion spoke, the singer, guided by the Holy Spirit within him, mocked the Evil one. “Liar! You didn’t give me this singing voice, and I didn’t either! God did! Christ did! You didn’t give us the means and the talent to achieve success so that we would repent and then do the bidding of the One Who gave us these gifts! God did. Christ did!”

Against the wall and now leaning forward sat the others, anticipating Erik telling Corion and the Evil to stick it where the sun don’t shine, we don’t need your stinkin’ godhood!

“And finally, you minion of Evil that murdered Adam Bloodlove, Swami Negran, Cole Blessing, Neville Banner, thousands of Walltown peasants, millions of innocent people throughout history, indentured, enslaved millions more using your heinous lackeys like Marty Effingchester—”

The Duke now shuddered in fright.

“—and nearly caused me to die but save for The Tooters giving me a song to heal me.”

Corion laughed. “Those puny Tooters can kiss my ass! And that goes double for your so-called God.”

”Thus sayeth the Lord,” the Spirit spoke through Erik, “Do not mock the Lord! That created you, wayward son, and will see you in your place again, the Abyss!”

Corion laughed even harder now. “We will see, when I take the baby son of the troubadour you speak through. Payment will be mine!”

“No you won’t take my son!” Erik spoke on his own. “You will never take my son Jason from me! In your dreams, you lying sack of shit!” Left the altar.

He then turned toward Mark-Corion. “You will never have my Oath! Father God, Jesus Christ and the Holy Ghost have my Yes! And you will never take my Jason from me! Rot in Hell where you belong!”

Mark, that is Corion, got his sword ready to impale Erik’s heart. His right arm pulled back to stick it through.

And then—

 

As three men that suddenly appeared literally out of nowhere released the others of their burlap bags and rope ties and helped them stand up, readying for their escape—

 

Corion swung his sword. But it could not penetrate the singer, still praising the Holy Trinity. “My life and the lives of mine are in your hands, my Savior Jesus Christ!”

Then, like Moses, like Elijah, like the Apostle Paul on the road to Damascus when Christ spoke to him, Erik’s face shined a light of brightness that banished the Evil from the room. The other five witnessed this event, astounded, and one of them said, “Praise God for this!”

(Later, back in that ‘timeless void’ again after being rescued by the ‘three men’)

“So, like, Keith and Tom keep saying they saw my face glow or something as they were leaving that crap hole. Is that true or what? And why? For light or what?” Because there is no way either one of them would lie to me.

“Yes, your face was glowing bright as the light of salvation.”

“Salvation?”

“You were too involved with invoking the Holy Spirit and being filled with the Holy Spirit and warding off evil to notice, but yes, it was your shining light beaming the light of God that kept that sword from killing you, and dispensed with the spirit of evil that Corion attempted to fill the room with, to control his minions who could only exist in the darkness. They could not stand the brightness of what filled you. And what filled you was the light of salvation. As if Christ Himself held you in his arms, and stopped the sword.”

The ‘three men,’ were, of course, angels.

Want more good spiritual news? Purchase The Prodigal Band Trilogy using links to various seller platforms here!

The Prodigal Band Trilogy © 2019 by Deborah Lagarde, Battle of the Band © 1996 by Deborah Lagarde, The Prophesied Band © 1998 by Deborah Lagarde and The Prodigal Band © 2018 by Deborah Lagarde. Permission needed to copy any materials off this page.

Author: deborahlagarde

Born on Long Island, NY, in 1952, now live in the mountains of far west Texas. Began writing fiction stories at about 8 years old with pen and loose leaf paper, and created the characters in my Prodigal Band Trilogy as a teenager. From the 70s to the 90s I created the scenario which I believe was inspired. While bringing up and home schooling my two children I continued to work on the novels and published "Battle of the Band" in 1996 and "The Prophesied Band" in 1998. Took off the next several years to complete home schooling and also working as an office manager for the local POA. In 2016, I retired, then resumed The Prodigal Band, a FREE PDF book that tells the whole story to its glorious end. Hint: I'm a true believer in Christ and I'm on a mission from God, writing to future believers, not preaching to the choir. God gave me a talent and, like the band in my books, I am using that talent for His glory, not mine (and, like me, the band is on its own journey, only fictional.) I also wrote for my college newspaper and headed up production, was a columnist in a local newspaper in the early 2000s, and wrote for and edited "Log of the Trail," the news letter for the Texas Mountain Trail Writers, and wrote for and edited it's yearly catalog of writings, "Chaos West of the Pecos." OmegaBooks is my self-publishing sole proprietorship company founded in 1995. Other jobs included teaching secondary math, health aide, office worker, assembly line work, and free-lance writing and bookkeeping,much of it while home schooling.

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