The Time magazine cover startled me. The stark black-and-white photo showed a disfigured young woman lying comatose in a hospital bed. A feeding tube protruded from her stomach, and her father sat forlornly next to her. The headline stated: “The Right To Die.”

I couldn’t believe it. This young woman looked like the comatose patients my wife, Gail, and I ministered to every day. The only difference was that this lady appeared to have a higher level of awareness than many comatose patients. Her name was Christine Busalacchi (pronounced boo-sa-LOCK-ee). From the Time story (March 19, 1990) and from other reports, we learned that Christine’s father was asking the courts for the right to have Christine’s feeding tube removed. The story also mentioned that another comatose woman, Nancy Cruzan, was at the same rehabilitation center in Missouri.

Gail and I were scheduled to speak the following Spring at several churches in the Midwest, including Missouri. But Christine's

picture touched us deeply. As we prayed, we sensed the Holy Spirit prompting us to reschedule the trip for mid-December to allow us to visit the Missouri Rehabilitation Center sooner. On December 14 we had traveled from our home in New York and were speaking at a church in Indiana when we learned that the courts had ruled to allow Nancy Cruzan’s parents to remove Nancy’s feeding tube and allow her to starve.

Gail and I were shocked-we hadn’t been aware of any pending decision. God surely had known this was going to happen, I thought. He allowed us to reschedule our trip so we could let Nancy Cruzan hear the gospel.
The following day brought more news from Missouri. People from all over the country were converging on the rehabilitation center to protest the court’s ruling.

On December 18, when I finally pulled the van up to the Missouri Rehabilitation Center, the grounds looked like a circus. Helicopters circled overhead, television crews lit up the ground, police blocked the hospital entrance, and protesters swarmed everywhere-setting up a tent village, marching in front of the hospital, holding up signs and placards.

I parked the van and made my way to the hospital entrance. After listening to my story, the officers allowed me inside to see the chaplain, Ted Coleman.

“This is what we do,” I explained, handing the chaplain a brochure that described our ministry of singing and encouragement to comatose patients. “I feel strongly the Lord brought us here to minister to Nancy Cruzan and to Christine Busalacchi.”

There was kindness in Ted’s eyes, but he shook his head. “You’re about the three-hundredth person here today who’s been sent by God,” he said. He began describing some of the bizarre characters who had shown up as God’s emissaries.

“I can see why you’re hesitant,” I persisted, “but we’re not...well, we just came here to minister Christ to these women.”

He thought for a moment and finally offered, “I’ll give the Cruzans your brochure and tell them you’re here, but I’ll have to get back to you.”