In spite of all my training as a police officer, I've never felt real comfortable when dispatched to medical calls. I'm a police officer; I wanna take bad guys to jail. "The sick need a physician," Jesus said - not a cop...

But I have come to learn that God is in everything I do, and it pleases Him greatly when I respond to whatever call I am sent to - and do so with a good attitude.

I remember such a call that came out one day. An elderly gentleman was suffering a heart attack. Another officer was dispatched, but I was only 2 blocks away. I jumped the call.

The scene was quite dramatic. The victim was unconscious, lying directly in front of the entrance to the restaurant. A crowd had gathered, including his wife and daughter. They had just completed their meal and were headed to the car when dad fell to the ground.

Since I was only two blocks away, I was on the scene before the paramedics.

My heart was deeply moved by what I was seeing. The victim's wife seemed shocked and couldn't utter a word. The daughter was just the opposite. She was by no means ready to let her father pass into eternity. I can still hear her to this day: "! Daddy, live...listen to us..." His eyes were shut and there wasn’t the least bit of movement about him.

I was relieved, to say the least, that the paramedics arrived in seconds. Removing the proper instruments from their bags, they went to work on Mr. Jones.

Before long an IV was in place. The medics "did their thing" with great ease. I enjoy watching them. I relish the fact that they are some of the best in the state of Texas. They were not about to let death take this man from his family if they could help it.

As I knelt by the victim's side, I was willing and ready should the medics tell me to start CPR. We were in this thing together. Saving lives is our goal.

As I waited for my orders, I was caught off guard by what I was told to do. But my instructions didn't come from the medics - they came from the Lord.

"Speak to his heart - and tell it to start."

"What?" I thought. "Do what?"

The voice repeated: "Speak to his heart - and tell it to start."

Oddly enough, my first thought was that what I was told to do rhymed! "Heart...Start"

I was puzzled, however, I believed I was hearing the voice of the Father – that I was being given the opportunity to witness a miracle on this man who’s heart was not beating, and had not beat in several minutes.

The “Voice” spoke again: “Speak to his heart – and tell it to start.”

“Out loud, Lord?” I asked.

Speaking audibly was a concern. Perhaps I could just whisper these words and all would be well. I recall thinking that I didn’t want the medics to think I was strange. They – as well as my fellow officers – knew I was a Christian. I remember mumbling something to the Lord about needing to keep my job.

“Speak to the heart – and tell it to start.”

I looked around at the gathered crowd. The daughter was still pleading, the mother still shocked; onlookers were struck with fear.

I looked back at Mr. Jones, who lay on the ground before me. The medics were working feverishly to save his life. The intensity of the situation only heightened.

All of a sudden, a scene form the gospels flashed through my mind. In some unexplainable way, I could see Jesus interrupting the funeral of a young man. The mother was nearby, weeping. The gospel writer - Luke - tells us that she was a widow; she had already lost her husband - now her only son was dead.

The Heart of Jesus got the best of Him. We're told that He was greatly moved by this sad, sorrowful situation. He grabbed the coffin and halted the processional. Then, He spoke to the corpse: “Young man, I say to you, ‘get up!’”

And he got up…

This story went through my mind with lightning speed. But it confirmed for me what I was to do: Speak to the heart – as Jesus had spoken to the corpse (obviously his heart!).

I leaned forward and repeated what I was told to say: “Heart, I’m telling you – in the name of Jesus – start!”

I sat up straight. I looked at the medics to see how they were responding to my method of treatment. No response. “Good,” I thought. “I may get to keep my job.”

I looked at Mr. Jones. No response. I looked at the gathered crowd, his wife and daughter. I didn’t know what to think. I must’ve looked like a fool.

“WE’VE GOT A HEARTBEAT,” the medic shouted. “Let’s get to the ambulance and get out of here.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Mr. Jones’ heart was beating. It had been less than 15 seconds since I had spoken the “poem” over his body. The man’s heart was beating!

I jumped up and walked away. I was overcome by the whole ordeal. I knew I was on holy ground. They loaded him into the ambulance and off they went.

I could only stand there. Completely stunned. Completely puzzled. I got back in my police car and drove away.

A few hours passed and I had not heard any news about Mr. Jones. I called the hospital to check on him. The attending physician spoke with me.

“Hey doc, I’m Officer Meeks. I’m the cop who was at the scene with Mr. Jones. How is he? Is he alive?”

“Yes, officer, he’s alive. Kind of a strange thing,” the doctor continued. “It was a simple case of 'heart stoppage' - IT JUST NEEDED SOMETHING TO MAKE IT START.”

I hung up the phone. Looking back, I realize now I should have taken the time to remove my shoes. Such a gesture is appropriate when one is on holy ground.