An important responsibility of the husband is spoken of in Ephesians 5:25: “Husband’s, love your wives even as Christ loved the church and gave himself for it.“ This is the verse of Scripture that changed my marriage and literally changed my life. Loving my wife as Christ does is my most important job.
You see, I grew up in a very strict, emotional Pentecostal home. I’ve seen some very strange behavior. I’ve seen people swing from chandeliers, and do a lot more than that. You just weren’t very close to God if you couldn’t talk in tongues and roll on the floor. And in the area where I was raised, the Pentecostals didn’t believe in doctors and medicine. Up until the time I got married, I had never had an aspirin in my mouth. In fact, I had never taken any kind of pill and had never been to a doctor, except for physical examinations and in sports-related injuries. Where I went to church they said, “If you’re sick, we’ll pray for you and God will heal you.”
I asked, “What if He doesn’t heal you?” “You die,” they said. That was a tremendous thought. If you don’t get well, you just die. But I went along with it. Because of their simple faith, there were some great healings. But the plain truth was that hypocrisy and bigotry were growing in my heart.
My father had been a professional baseball player before I was born. My dad never got past the minor leagues as a player himself, but he had hopes and dreams for his son. And every waking moment he drove them into me.
Thank the Lord, I did have some natural talent. So my dad spent hours on end with me developing my dedication and love for the game, I had the opportunity to try out for the major leagues. And in 1947 I signed a contract with the New York Yankees. I was assigned to their Triple-A Club, one step away from a career in the majors. I was in direct competition with Bobby Richardson for second base.
But after I’d signed the contract and gone to Spring Training, my mother and my grandmother who were very strong in the church said, “Son, why don’t you go to Bible school in the off-season? You’ll learn more about the Bible and draw closer to the Lord.” It sounded good to me, so I went to Bible school that winter.
That’s when the Lord placed the call of the ministry upon my life. And I fought it—oh, how I fought it. For days and weeks I fought it. “Lord, I’ll do anything in the world—just let me play baseball.” My dad wanted me to be a baseball player. I knew I could do it. “Just let me play baseball.” But the Lord was showing me a greater need and uncovering another gift—that of preaching and teaching and evangelizing. He wanted me in the ministry.
Turned in a Different Direction
So I turned my back on baseball and broke my dad’s heart. I answered God’s call into the ministry. For seven years I traveled in the summer, ministering at revivals, spending vacation times speaking at youth camps and traveling all over the Midwest. I was bringing into the ministry a motivation that was foreign to most people. You see, a professional athlete has to have a certain amount of drive, a certain amount of kill, a degree of challenge that the normal person just doesn’t understand. A professional is going to win or else. And he’ll do it if it kills him.
In Bible school they didn’t make it any better. They taught us that the ministry was everything. We were to give our lives to the church we served. I didn’t think about a wife, or marriage, or children then. It was driven into my head that you had to be a success at the ministry, serving the people. That’s all the Lord wanted; it was the only goal.
After marriage, for nine solid years, I led Betty in this horrible way of life. I neglected her, ignored her, and lived my life entirely for the churches I pastured. Twenty-four hours a day, I was the pastor. I was the man of the cloth. I was in charge. And I was going to win! Poor Betty would just have to come along as best she could.
The “Change” That Was Needed
It was Saturday, January 19, 1962. I had been visiting the people, performing my last pastoral duties of the week and getting ready for Sunday. It was my Saturday routine to come home and put the final touches on the Sunday sermon. This was always just in time to see “The Wonderful World of Golf.” You see, I was not only a minister but I was still a sports nut. Nothing could tear me away from a good sports event on television.
When I came home that afternoon and turned on the TV to the golf game, I couldn’t get a picture. The wind had blown the TV antenna out of place. That wasn’t anything new. It had happened many times before. I don’t know why I hadn’t corrected it and nailed it down, but I hadn’t. I knew what to do, though so I called Betty. “Honey, you stand right here in front of the TV, and I’ll go to the crown of the roof. When I turn the antenna and the picture comes in, call me and I’ll come down to watch my program.” It was pouring rain, but I was still determined to see my program.
Little did I know that the electrical power line, bringing all the power for our house from the main transformer in the alley, had dipped down in the storm and rubbed to the bare wire across our TV antenna. All the power that was to go into the house was channeled through that antenna. As I reached out to adjust it, I was knocked unconscious.
Betty heard the rumble of my body rolling down the roof. And then she saw me falling through the air—head first—hitting the cement patio below, bouncing into the muddy barren flower bed face down. Betty rushed to my side, panic-stricken. Surely, I would have drowned if she hadn’t somehow wrestled my unconscious body into the den and onto the couch. I weighed 195 pounds at that time and had prided myself into being extremely well-conditioned and in top-notch health.
I don’t really know what happened. But the men who later surveyed the accident and pieced it together found my watch still welded to the TV antenna. They concluded that because there was so much power in the antenna, it had arced across and made contact with my watch. It ripped my watch from my arm, and electrocuted me. They don’t know to this day why the force of electricity didn’t pull me into the antenna and burn me to a crisp.
But for some reason, it threw me from it. God desired to do a work in my life. Because of His great Love and Mercy, He was going to remove the prejudices from my life. As I look back, I can see that for many years God had been working with me, trying to help me. He wanted to change me in a more gentle way, but I wouldn’t let Him. I was so forceful and stubborn.
God At Work
Now, God in all His love and tender mercy would begin the work of changing Ron Wiseman. If I had been conscious, there is no way Betty would have gotten a doctor into my house. I would never have let him on the property. She knew it, and God knew it. So He said, I’ll just fix Ron Wiseman. We’ll eliminate that obstacle. There I was, unconscious on the couch. Betty called the Doctors’ Exchange in San Bernardino, California, where I was pastoring.
Dr. Gent came just as soon as he could and examined me from head to toe. Then he turned to my wife and said, “Mrs. Wiseman, your husband’s injuries are much too intense for my medical knowledge. He’s critical. You must get him to a hospital and to a neurologist.” Betty didn’t know any. Would he recommend one in the area? Yes, there happened to one. In fact, one of the greatest neurologists on the West Coast had an office right there in San Bernardino. His name was Dr. Estridge. Dr Gent made the phone call.
“I’m not taking any more patients,” Dr. Estridge said, “But I will see that preacher. Get him to the nearest hospital.” Betty called the ambulance. They put me on a stretcher and rushed me to the nearest hospital. Now, if I had been conscious, there’s no way they would have put me in that ambulance. I would rather have died right there in the house. And take me to a hospital? Forget it!
God’s Loving Plan
But you see, I was unconscious, and the nearest hospital happened to be a Catholic hospital. Isn’t the Lord good? They rushed me to the fifth floor and began to examine my body. They could see I had been electrocuted by the burns on my arm. But they also found that from my neck down I was paralyzed. When I gained consciousness several days later, I couldn’t move. I had absolutely no feeling of any kind from the neck down. The doctors couldn’t understand why.
For the next 13 weeks, I lay near death’s door. I went from 195 pounds to 137 pounds. My same six-foot frame was now only skin and bones. They had me in the intensive care unit with six other men. Each of us was hooked up to his own life-support system. One full-time doctor and two nurses were there around the clock giving us the best care possible. I was not conscious very often because back then, they didn’t know to relieve the pressure on the brain. And my brain was swelling with nowhere to go. I was unconscious more than conscious. My dear bride would come and sit by my bedside as much as they let her. She kept a steady vigil there.
God at Work
God began to work on Ron Wiseman. Every day Sister Columbus, the Mother Superior and administrator of the hospital, would slip into Room 208. She would kneel down beside my bed, reach over and touch me on the cheek. Sometimes she would anoint my head with oil. Oh, how she prayed. The anointing of the Lord was mighty upon her as she cried before the Lord. Sister Columbus just prayed in the name of Jesus for me.
And when I was conscious, it so touched me that tears would stream down my cheeks. Sister Columbus would then grab a Kleenex and dab it on each side of my face so my tears wouldn’t go in my ears. I was in so much pain, and a Catholic was praying for me. This was a Catholic! She was a religious lady I had been so prejudiced against. And yet was praying for me, and all I could do was just lie there.
Dr Estridge didn’t believe in God. He was an atheist. But when I was conscious and he wanted to check my brain for memory, he would ask me questions about the Bible. One day when I was quite coherent, I said, “Dr. Estridge, I thought you were an atheist.” He let out an oath and said, “I am.” Then how do you know so much about the Bible?” I asked. “I’m reading it the night before so I can test you!”
Just For Me
Praise God, the Lord had this great neurologist reading the Bible because he had a stubborn, hard-headed husband in the hospital.
Whenever I was conscious, I would intercede in prayer for the men around me. We all had head injuries. One by one they were all dying. Betty came in the middle of one of these prayer times. I wasn’t getting any rest and she knew it. She asked Dr. Estridge if he could find me a room where I could rest and still get the care I needed. There was a semi-private room with a bed available. The doctor agreed that the change would be good. So while I was unconscious, they wheeled me in.
When I woke up, Betty was by my side. I was next to the window. The life support system had been rolled in and put next to the bed. “There’s a tree right outside,” Betty pointed out. “And when springtime comes, you’ll be able to see the leaves and the birds coming into the trees.” I turned my head as best I could, and looked over to the other side. There—was a great, big, black man. This was my roommate. What are you doing Lord?
The man’s name was Archie. During the next three days I discovered he had a wonderful sense of humor, even though he was in as much pain as I was. In fact, in just about three days he passed on. But before he did, I had the privilege of leading Archie in the Sinner’s Prayer. He didn’t know the Lord Jesus, but he does now.
The Lord Changed Me
Up until that time I wasn’t a hugger. I used to hold everyone at arm’s length. Maybe I would shake hands, although most of the time I didn’t even bother with that. But since the Lord Jesus changed me, I want to hug anyone who will let me. I didn’t get to hug Archie. I was paralyzed, and he went on to be with the Lord before I could hug him. But when Jesus calls me home, I’m going to spend the first thousand years hugging my Lord. Then I’ll spend the next couple hundred years hugging Archie. Oh, how I love him for allowing Jesus to break down and destroy my prejudices against black people through him.
At one of our Enjoying Marriage Weekends, we had a beautiful black couple attend. After the session about Archie, the husband came up to me and he said, “Ron, can I be your Archie until the Lord calls you home?” Then we just hugged and we hugged. Just the thought of it brings tears to my eyes.
We’ve also had many Catholics come to our seminars. I would never have loved Catholics. I wouldn’t have passed the time of day with them if the Lord hadn’t placed me in the fire of that affliction. And doctors? I couldn’t talk to doctors. I didn’t have time for them. But today I have many close friends who are doctors because of my experience with Dr Estridge. I don’t care whether they’re atheists or believers. I just love them because the Lord loves them.
God healed me. I was afraid of hospitals, and I only went to them because I was trained to do so as a minister. But when God healed my body, He healed all the fear and hatred too.
After 10 weeks in the hospital, Dr. Estridge told my wife that I wasn’t getting any better. The bill was astronomical, and we didn’t have any kind of insurance. “Mrs. Wiseman,” he suggested, “you can rent the life support system. Why don’t you take your husband home? You can take care of him right there. It will be much cheaper and probably more comfortable for Ron.”
When Betty told me I was going home, I was thrilled. I didn’t know I was dying. The ambulance came and very gently kept my head and body straight as they put me on the board bed and drove me home. Betty had the room all carefully prepared with double curtains on the windows. (My eyes were so sensitive I couldn’t stand any light.) The slightest sound, even tiptoeing footsteps sounded like drums beating. Betty had taken all of this into consideration, and the phone was put in the other room and wrapped in pillows.
The attendants put me on our bed that Betty had prepared. She had put boards under the mattress at the doctor’s orders. But as soon as they left, I went into convulsions. Betty called the ambulance again, and they hurried me back to St. Bernadine’s. Betty signed the release papers as they rushed me into the operating room.
After procedures were completed, Dr. Estridge took Betty aside. “Mrs. Wiseman,” he said, “these two ruptured vessels are in a part of the brain we cannot get to. We cannot repair these blood vessels, and they will not repair themselves. So as far as medical science is concerned, your husband will never get well. He may live a few days or a few months. We’ll tap his spine periodically to relieve the pressure, but that’s the best we can do. I’m sorry.”
That night, they brought me down from the operating room and put me into a private room. They raised my feet above my head on shock blocks. For the first time in these almost eleven weeks now, they allowed the Board Members of my church to come and stand at the foot of the bed. Up until that time, I’d had no visitors other than my wife, the Mother Superior, and a Catholic priest. Dr. Estridge began giving the nurses instructions. They were doing everything they could to keep me alive. But finally he turned to my bride and said, “I’ve done all I can.”
God’s Change of Plans
The death rattle had already come into my throat. My eyes were locked into my head. Betty told me she could take her thumb and put it down inside the sockets of my eyeballs. There I was, totally comatose, with absolutely no hope. My body was cold, with no blood pressure, no heart beat—gone, for all intents and purposes. Betty started crying. Dr Estridge was ready to pull the sheet over my head. But God in His love and tender mercy had a message come from my lifeless lips. It couldn’t have been me. He said that He was going to raise up His servant, and that Betty and I would have a ministry to marriages.
Now, no one knew how horrible our marriage was. No one knew what I had put her through in nine long, miserable years. Nobody knew what a miserable failure I had been in my marriage. And now I was on my deathbed and God was saying we were going to minister to marriages. Poor Dr. Estridge; he almost went berserk, bless his heart. He didn’t know what to do. This cadaver was talking. Betty’s sorrow turned to tears of joy. The men of my Board were praising the Lord. The nurses were elated. Many of the nuns who had grown quite close to the case had come into the room and were giving the Sign of the Cross. God had stepped in. He had intervened.
I wish I could say that a day or two later I got out of bed and walked home, but I didn’t. I was there for another week still paralyzed and not getting any better. Dr. Estridge suggested to Betty that I would be better off at home. “He’s not going to get any better. He may live a week, maybe a year. You might as well take him home.
So once again, Betty brought all the equipment into the house, and the ambulance attendants set me up at home. As they left the room, I was just lying there, alone. It was then that Satan attacked me for the last time with his hardest weapon. He didn’t want me to live, and he didn’t want me to love my wife. He didn’t want me to fulfill God’s promise and have a ministry to marriages. So he attacked me with all the power of hell. He was the oppressor. I was the oppressed in the greatest sense of word, and I am not proud of my reactions.
As soon as Betty had signed the papers and the ambulance left, she came tiptoeing into the room. She had told our three children to stay in the other part of the house. She was trying to be as brave as she could. It was a heavy load for her to carry. Here was a young woman with three small children, a huge hospital bill and a husband with no hope. I might live a day. I might live a year. She didn’t know. As she knelt down by my bed she put her hand on my cheek, the only part of my body that had feeling. “Honey,” she said, “I’m glad you’re home. I can take care of you the way I want to.”
But I railed at her, and was so ugly. “I want you to get out of the room. I want you to leave me alone. Yes, I know I was sent home to die, and I just want to die by myself. Get out of here. Turn off the equipment. I don’t want anyone around. I just want to die. Do you hear me?” Can you imagine the agony that she felt as she left the room?
Betty called my mom and told her I was home. Could she please come? Mother came as quickly as she could. When she arrived, she patted me on the cheek, stroked my hair and said, “Honey, it’s your mom. I’ve come to be with you and to help Betty.” But I was just as ugly to her as I was to my bride. “Why don’t you go back home? Why are you wasting your time? I’m dying. I don’t need you. Leave me alone!” What a horrible, miserable fool I was.
There then followed darkness I can’t describe, fear beyond comprehension. The hatred of hell filled the room with a blackness that was more than just the darkness enclosed by the curtains. It was horrible. I don’t know how long it lasted—it seemed like an eternity. But somewhere in the midst of all that darkness and despair, God broke through.
He began to show me the nine miserable years of my marriage. It was almost like a moving picture projection before me. I saw the many ways I had used and misused my wife. And then in the midst of it all. I heard a verse of scripture, so loud and clear. Now, I had taught the Book of Ephesians many times in my pastoral ministry. I knew what it said. But all of a sudden I saw and understood it in a light I’d never seen before: “Husbands, love your wives even as Christ loved the Church and gave Himself for it.” The Lord was speaking that to me. “But I can’t, Lord. I’m paralyzed. I’m dying. There’s no hope for me.”
Then the Lord came in and began to reveal His Word and Satan had to get out of the picture. I knew I had heard God’s voice, but I didn’t know I was a medical impossibility. Betty didn’t tell me what the situation was. I just knew that my headaches were so great that they caused me to lapse into unconsciousness. The pain was horrible. So I entered into a covenant with the Lord: “Lord,” I said, “if you’ll just give me feeling in my hands and feet, if you’ll let me walk again, I’ll spend the rest of my life spoiling Betty Wiseman rotten.”
That’s what I took that verse of Scripture to mean—“Husbands, love your wives as Christ loved the Church and gave himself for it.” I just felt like the Lord was spoiling His Church rotten. At that point I said, “Lord, if you’ll just heal me, I’ll spend the rest of my life doing that for Betty.”
I’ll never forget it. It was the Wednesday morning before Easter, 1962. Betty and my mother came into the room with my Bible. Betty opened it to Deuteronomy 33:27. “The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms; and he shall thrust out the enemy from before thee; and shall say, destroy them.”
She placed it on my chest, and laid her hand on one of my hands. My mother tiptoed to the other side of the bed and placed her hand on my other hand. I just lay there as they began to pray for me. Our little redhead, Cindy was two-and-a-half years old then. Betty had told her, along with the other children, to please stay in the other part of the house.
But as she and Mom were praying, Betty saw Cindy tiptoe into the room and watched her as she came to the foot of the bed. Cindy reached out and grabbed my big toe through the sheet. I couldn’t feel it of course. I didn’t even know she was there. But Betty said that Cindy closed her eyes tight and began to say the word “Jesus” over and over again. Just “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.” For some reason Betty checked her watch as Cindy grabbed my toe and started praying for her daddy. She was so intent in her prayer that for five minutes she squeezed my toe for all it was worth just saying, “Jesus.” I think that’s supernatural within itself.
Betty tapped me on the cheek and pointed to Cindy at the foot of my bed. And as best I could I raised my head just that little bit. I always got so dizzy. As I looked across my body, all I could see was the top of my little girl’s head as she prayed, her eyes closed so tightly, so intense, just speaking, “Jesus, Jesus.”
God’s Miracle Healing
The moment I saw her, something happened. I don’t know whether the three of them together touched God, or whether all the people all over the world who were praying for Ron Wiseman touched God. Maybe the Lord had broken my stubborn rebellion. Maybe at last He had me where He wanted me. I don’t know. But the moment I saw Cindy’s face, I was healed. How do I know I was healed? I felt her squeezing my toe! I turned to my wife and said, “Honey, I’m healed.” And then very slowly I turned the other way and said, “Mother, I’m hungry.”
That was the beginning of the beginning. Little by little, the long process of recovery began. They would lift me just a tiny little bit, pray in the name of Jesus and give me a spoonful of broth. I’d get so dizzy they’d have to put me back down. A few minutes later they’d lift me a little bit farther, pray in the name of Jesus and give me a little more broth and then put me down again. After hours of this, I could finally sit up for one minute, and then they’d put me down. After doing this for several days, they eventually got me on my feet. With my wife and brother-in-law on each side of me, I was able to take my first steps.
It was then that Betty called Dr. Estridge. “Dr. Estridge?” Betty said, “My husband is Ron Wiseman.” “Oh yes, what is his condition?” “He’s walking, Dr. Estridge—God healed him, Dr. Estridge. Dr. Estridge?” “I want you to know I assume no responsibility. But I want to see him in my office as soon as you can get him here.”
The Office Call
A few days later with Betty’s arm keeping me steady, I slowly walked into his office. The waiting room was filled with people, but I didn’t have to wait. He took me right in and examined me from head to toe. He couldn’t believe it. Next he shook his head; then on his intercom he called for his associate, Dr. Smith. “Dr. Smith! That preacher who was dying is in my office. Come, you must examine him.”
Dr. Smith went through the whole examination all over again. He couldn’t believe it either. He went out shaking his head. I weighed 137 pounds—just skin and bones—but I walked in there and I was going to walk out. Dr. Estridge turned to my wife and said, “Mrs. Wiseman, I didn’t do it. You know that. But you must realize that when your husband had the accident, he was in very good physical condition.”
Isn’t the Lord wonderful?! That was March of 1962. Many years have come and gone since then. And to the best of my ability, I have done what I promised the Lord I would do. It’s so much fun spoiling Betty rotten. I want to spoil her just like Jesus spoils me. But some men have trouble with that word ‘spoil.’ “What do you mean, Ron, spoiling her?”
Loving My Wife Lavishly
I mean making yourself available to your wife; thinking about her and caring for her 24 hours of every day. Isn’t that what Jesus does? The Bible says He ever lives to make intercession for his Bride (Romans 8:34; Hebrews 7:25). That’s 24 hours of every day. It also says that He’s seated at the right hand of His Father on behalf of His Bride (Mark 16:19,20; Luke 22:69; Romans 8:34; Colossians 3:1; Hebrews 1:3; 8:1; 10:12; 12:2; 1 Peter 3:22). The Bible says He will build His Church, and the gates of Hell cannot prevail against her (Matthew 16:18). The Bible tells me that He’s given the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven to His Bride (Matthew 16:19). Did you know that? Yes indeed, Jesus is spoiling His Church.
Christ loves His Bride. And it’s absolutely vital that you and I as men realize that we can treat our bride in the same way. You can think of her, be available to her, lovingly care for her and thrill her. Each of you can let your bride know that she means everything to you. Do this even to the point of giving your very life for her as Christ did for us. You should be dying to self, so that you may live with her. You are to reckon the old man dead, crucify the flesh so that you can please her and bless her and satisfy her. That’s how a man learns to love his wife and Christ loves the church.
Love as Christ Does
In verse 26, we are given the first part of how a man is to love his wife as Christ loves the church. It says, “…that He might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water by the word.“ Sanctify means “to set apart for a particular purpose.” And if you, as the husband, love your wife as Christ loves the Church, you are sanctifying her, setting her apart just for yourself in the marriage. And in that setting her apart, you cleanse, wash and purify her life by the Word of God. Sir, you should never be too busy to read the Bible with your bride.
Revelations 1:3 says, “Blessed is he that reads and they that hears the Word of God.“ So I plead with you. Keep your wife in the Word of God. Allow it to flow through you (so that you receive the same blessing) to cover her, to cleanse her, to purify her, to wash her. No wonder so many Christian women are under direct attacks of the devil. The husband is not washing, cleansing and purifying his wife by the Word. Likewise, neither is he being washed, cleansed and purified by the Word. No wonder so many women are trapped in soap operas, romantic novels and unwholesome magazines. Men, it is absolutely vital that you sanctify and cleanse her with the washing of God’s Word.
And then continuing in verse 27, “…that He might present it (His Bride) to Himself a glorious Church, not having spot or wrinkle or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish.”
As you make yourself available to your wife, as you become the sacrificial lamb for her, giving your all for her, spending time with her, loving her, thrilling her, exciting her, spoiling her—as you’re doing all this—you’re making her exactly the way you want her to be. You’re the one who does it.
On the other hand, if you’re ignoring her, avoiding her, being unloving and unkind, you’re hurting her and giving her a negative message. The results will be obvious. I can’t emphasize it enough. Husband, you have the power to make your wife exactly the way you want her to be.
At several Enjoying Marriage Weekends, people have come up to Betty and said, “You don’t look old enough to be a grandmother.”
Excitedly, I want to tell them, “I did it. I did it. It’s me—I made her that way. Isn’t she beautiful?!” You should have seen her before I started loving her. She looked like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her eyes looked like two burnt holes in a blanket. Bless her heart. She was sad, and had no ambition or desire. All of her get-up-and-go got up and went. Why? Because I wasn’t loving her. But oh, men, as you start making yourself available to your wife, what a thrill it is for you to see the changes happening in her.
Jesus Makes All Things New
Jesus is doing that for us, His Bride. Every time we come to church, He has something new and different to give us. Every time we open His word, he shows us something else. He is continually blessing us. This isn’t just the old drab, humdrum, day-in, day-out, boring existence, you see. The Lord really loves us. He’s spoiling us so that we can reflect His love and life in a dying world. Likewise, husband, your wife is a billboard, and announcement of your love for her. Does she herald your love, your care and your attention? The responsibility is yours. You make her what she is in your own world.
This article comes from the book titled, Enjoying Marriage… A Testimony of Triumph by Ron and Betty Wiseman published by Enjoying Marriage, Inc. This book was written by Ron and Betty to help you experience a “new beginning” in your marriage. Most of all, it was designed for couples who want more than the world has to offer. The Wiseman’s know that God’s promise is firm: “And they overcame… by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony…“ Revelation 12:11.