I remember the first angel I met. It happened at the outset of our honeymoon as my wife and I traveled down the Amalfi coast in southern Italy. Suddenly the Fiat van we were driving stopped running. No amount of tinkering or praying would restart it.
We knew we had stopped along a dangerous stretch of road on a twisted drive that wound along the beautiful coast just south of Naples. This section of the Amalfi Drive was infamous for its bandits and thieves. If there was a road in southern Italy comparable to the road between Jerusalem and Jericho, this was it. Suzanne and I were mindful of what Jesus said happened to the man on that road.
After the Fiat wheezed its last breath, we set off to find the nearest town, several kilometers away. The area was too dangerous for one of us to stay with the car, so we gathered as many of our belongings as we could carry and put our thumbs in the air to hitch a ride. We were certain this would be the last we would see of our car and the belongings left ...1