How I learned about Psalm 91 and why I share Psalm 91 every chance I get! It was August 13, 1993. I was working as a truck driver who traveled the same route multiple times a week. I stayed my usual overnight stay in the same hotel in Cocoa Beach, Florida. My alarm went off at 4 am, and I was outside soon after at the back parking area away, visually inspecting my truck tires as I walked. I opened my door to step up and into the cab; my briefcase and bag were with me. “Hey man, hey!” Approaching from the front of the truck was a clean-cut man whom I thought was a lumper (a laborer wanting to unload my box truck.) I explained my truck was empty, and as I reached to shut my door, two other men came from behind the truck cab, and immediately I found myself looking down the barrel of a gun into the eyes of the gunman.
They grabbed me, pulled me out of the truck, and threw me face down on the ground. The gunman put his knee to my back, pinning me down, and forced a nickel-plated 9mm handgun to the back of my right ear. They intended to rob me. Yelling, they asked for my money - which was $60 cash in the billfold of my back pocket. Then, as they opened my wallet, my two-year-old son’s picture, my home address (the small card inserted at the front, “in case this wallet is found, please return to that we once carried”), my driver’s license, social security card, and credit cards were all inside. My watch was ripped from my wrist, a special gift from my dad. They then tried to pull the wedding band from my finger. I couldn’t get it off, either.
Yelling, “do you have more money?” I replied, “no!” But one man reached into my front pocket and pulled out cash; it was a one-dollar bill I’d forgotten was there. They accused me of lying to them about money. I heard them yelling, “Kill ‘em! Shoot him! Let’s get out of here!” I became angry when I realized their intentions were not only to rob me but to end my life also. My life flashed before me, and I didn’t want my son to be raised by anyone else or my young wife to remarry another man. I heard a voice saying, pray, pray, pray but I didn’t know what to pray, and honestly, I didn’t want to pray!
Again, I heard those words, pray, pray, pray. The third time I heard it, I began to pray, and not knowing what to say, I prayed out loud in my prayer language - also known as tongues. When I started praying, the gunman pulled the trigger. The gun didn’t go off. So, he got up and pulled the slide, thinking the gun was jammed, then got down with his knee rammed into my back and pulled the trigger again. The gun was positioned once again at my right ear. The gun didn’t go off a second time! I did not stop praying, but from the moment I began to pray, chaos and confusion came to the trio. They soon started arguing amongst themselves. When the gun didn’t go off the second time, they fled away through tall bushes toward an apartment complex. I sprinted to the front of the complex, where the locked office with a small window was, and yelled, “I’ve been robbed!” The attendant let me inside then called in the police.
The officer questioned me twice and said, puzzled, “Do you go to church or something?” I thought that was a strange question. “Son, you are supposed to be dead.” He then phoned his Sergeant and woke him up, saying, “you need to come down to the Best Western; it has to do with your homicide.” The officer told me that only a few days before, at the Speedco Fuel Stop next door, eyewitnesses described the same three men, and a matching gun description had killed a man in the outside restroom. He was found face down, robbed, and shot behind the right ear, precisely how they had placed the gun to my head. They informed me to move because I could identify all three. They knew my address and would surely come for me.
My wife was staying with her mother in Louisiana for a funeral. When I called my wife, her mom, overhearing the conversation, got on the phone and told me God spoke to her and for me to read Psalm 91 when I got home. My wife said, as I described the ordeal, she was given a glimpse into the spiritual battle that was going on around me. I’m sure my wife and I had read Psalm 91 at some point, but we didn’t remember it. I got home and did as my mother-in-law had instructed. Opening my Bible to Psalm 91, I read it a couple of times, left it open on the nightstand, and went to sleep. That same night at 2 am, the phone rang, and I answered thinking it was my wife. All I could hear was breathing on the other end of the phone, and I knew it had to be “them” coming to kill me as the officer had warned. I turned on the light, grabbed the Bible still open to Psalm 91, and read it aloud. I felt the peace of God flood over me. I turned off the light and went back to sleep. Nothing happened. God protected me again!
Maybe an angel was visibly standing in front of my door guarding. I don’t know. But they wouldn’t drive up from Cocoa Beach to Jacksonville to kill me and drive back for no reason. But that is what appears to have happened.
Because of this incident, Psalm 91 is the centerpiece of our lives and testimonies. Years later, one of our friends gave us a copy of the book of Psalm 91: God’s Umbrella of Protection by Peggy Joyce Ruth. When my wife and I read it, we gained a new understanding of what Psalm 91 meant! Since then, we have bought cases of the books, referring others to purchase a copy for themselves. For years we have given Psalm 91 books away, many to police officers who are in danger - now more than ever. For example, one officer said he read to his children at night and planned to read the Psalm 91 book aloud to them! My wife and I are called to evangelize - mainly to the Biker community - but we tell everyone we speak with about Psalm 91 and His protection promises available to those who will believe in Him.
Darren and Jackie Lemoine
Darren and Jackie often share Psalm 91 with Law Enforcement
Then and Now
Police report from Darren's robbery August 13, 1993