The image of a young girl suddenly flashed before my eyes.
Her neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, and her face was deathly pale. She appeared for only a fleeting instant before vanishing like quicksilver, leaving behind nothing but a lingering sense of dread.
Instinctively, I made the sign of the cross over myself.
A hundred questions rushed into my mind. I wanted to know who she was. Was she the former owner of the house? Had she died there? What terrible fate had befallen her?
The questions burned within me, but I resisted the urge to ask. Over the years, I had learned an important lesson in ministry: the Holy Spirit reveals only what He chooses to reveal, and no amount of curiosity can force His hand.
If He wanted me to know more, He would reveal it in His own time. Until then, faith demanded patience.
