I’ve seen enough conversions at death’s door to convince me that God gives many people another opportunity to get right with Him before the door closes forever.

There was a time when I felt very uneasy visiting someone who was unconscious, unresponsive, in a coma, or at the point of death. What should I say in such a situation? What should I do? Would it be better if I said nothing? Would my presence be enough?

My attitude began to change when I was training to be a hospital chaplain. I was given instructions about what to do when visiting a patient who was in a coma or unconscious. I also had the opportunity to observe experienced chaplains when they encountered those kinds of patients during their rounds in the hospital. I was told that the last two senses to leave someone who is in an unconscious state are the sense of hearing and the sense of touch. Therefore, I should talk to the person as if they could hear me, and I should put my hand on their shoulder, or take the person’s hand, so they might sense my presence and my concern.

One day I entered the room of a woman who was in a coma and had been in that coma for several days. I told her who I was, expressed my concern for her, and quoted a couple of scripture verses. Then I put her hand in mine and prayed for her out loud, using her name in my prayer. As I prayed, I could sense that she was squeezing my hand. When I opened my eyes, she was looking at me and smiling. I pressed the call button, and the medical staff came in to evaluate her. This “eye-opening” experience reinforced the instructions I had been given by the teaching chaplains.

Once when working as a hospice chaplain, I was given the name and address of a hospice patient in a long-term care facility. Her daughter happened to be visiting her when I arrived. The patient was unresponsive. Her head was jerking from side-to-side, her eyes open and darting back and forth, but she was unable to see. A look of fear and panic was on her face. I introduced myself to the daughter and then introduced myself to the patient and asked if I could pray for her. She didn’t respond. So, I put her hand in my hand and prayed for her by name. As I was praying, I felt her hand grip my hand tightly. Then, hearing the daughter crying, I quickly finished my prayer and opened my eyes. The patient’s head was no longer jerking, and her eyes no longer darting back and forth. She was looking straight into my eyes and smiling, still holding tightly to my hand as if not wanting to let go!

As the daughter pried her mother’s hand from my hand and put it into hers, she thanked me for my visit and for the amazing response of her mother. She said it was the first time her mother had responded in over a week. God had performed what seemed to her a miracle in her mother’s life right before her eyes, and He used me in the process. What a privilege!

On another occasion, I had the opportunity to observe this phenomenon with a patient who was near death. As a hospital chaplain, I received a call from one of the nurses telling me that a patient was dying and close to death. Her family had been contacted, and they were on their way to the hospital. When a dying person is close to the time of death, some senses may cease functioning or function in a minimal capacity. I observed when I entered the room that the patient was very weak. She couldn’t talk or open her eyes and could barely move. Sitting in a chair close to her so that she might be able to hear me, I introduced myself to her. Not knowing whether she was a believer or not, I asked if I could share with her about Heaven and eternal life. She nodded her head slightly. I shared the gospel with her and asked if she wanted Jesus Christ to come into her life as her Lord and Savior. She nodded slowly. I told her I would say a prayer and asked her to agree and make it her own prayer. Then I quoted scripture to assure her that whoever has Christ has eternal life. When her family arrived, I greeted them and left, so they could spend time alone with her.

The next day I received a phone call from the woman’s son. He told me that, after I left, his mother opened her eyes, sat up in bed, and started telling them what I had shared with her. She was very happy and excited. Then, she hugged each of her family members, lay back down in the bed, fell asleep, and died peacefully a short time later. The son asked if I would be willing to officiate at the memorial service for his mother, and “Would you share with all of us what you shared with her?” I gladly agreed to do so!

Then there came a day when I found out firsthand what it is like to be unconscious. On October 28, 2011, I was driving home from a shopping trip with my youngest daughter, and we were in the midst of a conversation. The next thing I remember—as if dreaming—was lying down and feeling wet. I could hear the muffled sound of voices but couldn’t understand what was being said, nor could I see anything. It was completely black, and it felt like someone was pulling on my body. The last thing I heard before becoming unconscious was a woman’s voice saying, “Is he going to die?” The next thing I was aware of was experiencing a sense of brightness. I opened my eyes—in a hospital bed in the intensive care unit of a hospital! My family was there, standing around my bed, holding my hand, calling my name, and praying. There was a large tube going into my chest. I was told that I had been in an automobile accident, and the body scan showed that I had nine rib fractures, two pelvic fractures, a collapsed lung, and some damage to my right knee. My daughter entered the intensive care unit on crutches and told me what had happened. She said that while I was driving, I stopped talking to her. She waved her hand in front of my face, but I didn’t blink or respond. Then my body became rigid and my foot pressed hard on the gas pedal. I was having a grand mal seizure. Trying to kick my foot off the gas pedal but unable to do so, she reached over and grabbed the steering wheel. At the end of the street, the car hit a large boulder and flipped over on its side. A couple of bystanders pulled the two of us out of the car. I lay on the ground in the rain until the ambulance came. My daughter who had suffered three pelvic fractures because of the accident told me that she was the one who asked the paramedics, “Is he going to die?” This personal experience made me more confident in ministering to an unconscious person with speech and human touch.

When we minister to people in this fashion, we are following Jesus’ example. He ministered to those who were helpless—physically, emotionally, and spiritually, even those possessed by Satan. A helpless person is not hopeless. As long as a person is alive, there is hope. My experiences demonstrate that God sometimes gives helpless people moments when they can hear, feel, and even see and react. Let’s remember the goodness and mercy of God and assume that God wants to use us in the lives of “unconscious” people even though we may not see any results from our efforts in this life. There may be a lot more people in Heaven than we expect!

If you were unconscious, and God opened your ears and restored your sense of touch for a period of time, wouldn’t you want to feel the weight and warmth of someone’s hand and the caring voice of someone talking to you by name? Of course you would! So, let’s be the hands and voice of God to those who are helpless and need it the most.

Thomas Peter Drenoske holds degrees in business, social sciences, and biblical literature, and has served for over 37 years in ministry as a pastor, chaplain, writer, and seminar speaker.