pamamilliongodstoriescom

#78 Just Four Words, “I Love You, Child.”

by

 

Photo by Nicole Tarpoff

In 2011, between high school graduation and moving onto campus at a private university in Louisville, I handed my life over to Jesus during one summer week with my church in Florida. And that made all the difference. I’d known a lot about God from a lifetime of Sunday school, but doubted He could be trusted; I had a thing for expecting everyone to harm me if I let them get close enough. So, choosing Christ would be “all things new”—or it would be nothing new. 

That fall, a few months into my newly-surrendered life, my life fell apart. Not that it was perfect before—but disordered eating and self-loathing were old habits and a well-hidden way of daily life. They were my miserable lot, I assumed, for being myself—however long I lasted. As tradition, my 18th birthday in September brought a visit from my grandpa. He understood me. He just did. He was proud of me, and if I close my eyes I can still see his crinkly, smiling blue eyes, and hear him humming “You are my Sunshine.”

But two weeks later, an afternoon brought a missed call and voicemail. I still hate voicemails. A family friend had accidentally called me instead of my dad. The only words I heard were, “David, I’m real sorry to hear about your dad”… Something, something, “sudden.” … Something, something, “if you need anything, let us know.” My world went dark. I remember making frantic calls to my mom and dad, and making a grief-stricken spectacle of myself on campus main. 

Grandpa. A violent stroke and tiny chance. An early morning drive to North Carolina—but no, he was gone already. Like Grandma four years before. Like Poppy two years before. Something broke in me. I lost it. In the weeks that followed, my barely-managed depression took control. Any efforts to keep college friends ceased; my vision blurred; everything happened to me from a mile away, like people tapping on exhibit glass. I was achingly lonely. I was terribly afraid. Nothing could break into my dark cloud; I couldn’t break out. And the enemy ramped up the old accusations, “No one even sees you and life would be better off without you.” I already believed that; the sharp, new grief made me desperate. Yet, just months before I’d stood on the ocean shore and told God I’d give Him my whole life, if He’d have me. The Bible said He would, so I’d begun reading every day and now kept on, fighting to catch a glimpse of Him—in case life with Him could save me. It’s not hyperbole when I tell you I whispered Isaiah 41:10 under my breath wherever I went those days, over and over: “So do not be afraid, for I Am with you. Do not be dismayed, for I Am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with My mighty right hand.”

But fear filled me; dismay wracked my body with sobs when I was alone. I fled to my room whenever class let out, barely interacted with roomie and friends, rarely ate but did so alone, beat my body into submission at the gym with music drowning out the people. Alone. Alone. Alone. Better that way. Safer that way. “Help me, God.” Out of control. But I’ll remember this forever, and my life has turned into a shout of “My Abba is trustworthy,” because of this: Yahweh keeps His promises. He is with us and He holds us. 

I was stumbling to a late-semester exam on medical Latin and Greek roots, no thought in my mind but dully flipping my notecards, when I stepped foot onto the crosswalk between buildings, almost to class. Suddenly—no, a car didn’t hit me—a voice tore through the heaviness drowning me. Four words. While the world just mumbled and roared in the distance, the voice split the static like a trumpet blast, calm and matter-of-fact, softly like a wedding vow. Out of the blue; out of the blackness. I can’t say it was audible. No one else was in sight. But I heard it. I stopped. My cards dropped. And tears filled my eyes. I actually saw the sun shining. My fog cleared the tiniest bit. Rescue. Belonging. Hope. Just four words. “I love you, child.” That wasn’t my study material talking. It wasn’t self-talk (goodness knows I used a cruder vocabulary for myself). No, the Father’s voice broke in like the voice of a friend: I knew it, though that was the first time I’d heard it. “I love you, child.” Each one of those words meant a world within itself to me: All that He is. Loving. Me. His child. He saw me; He sees me. He loved me; He loves me. 

That day on the crosswalk, He began a process of healing wounds and growing courage in me that still carries me through daily life. His love changed me utterly, and changes me still. Simply, I found someone I could trust. Profoundly, His faithfulness meant that my old fear-driven patterns of playing small, starving myself, and putting up walls were not for me anymore (even if the process of laying those down is a marathon and sometimes feels impossible). In the following months and years, He kept calling me to leap out in faith and catching me when I jumped with arms outstretched. I transferred to Asbury University at His nudging, stepped into worship ministry in front of crowds, moved to the Dominican Republic for a summer, worked with middle-school kids, learned to be a leader on campus, and made friends who called out the courage in me and fought for me in prayer. The Father did that. I handed Him my life almost six years ago, and I have to laugh in awe and thanksgiving at the difference Jesus makes in a broken soul (and the way He continues to heal me of daily fear, and calls me “whole”). I stand here a new creation—all things are new.

I cried again writing this, feeling the pang of loss again. Pain is real (and we know that even Jesus wept). But these promises are just as real: The Lord is strong enough to hold you up and hold you together. You will not drown in grief or fear or rejection forever. When you receive His grace, the only thing that will last for eternity is His limitless love. And You are loved. Your hope for healing and freedom is well founded in Christ. Joy comes. In this life. I promise. I pray over these words as I scribble them down, that the Spirit weighs them down with mercy so you believe them now if you don’t already: The God who left heaven for earth to love us in person, who died to give us life, who conquered the grave once and for all, and who still scatters all darkness to shine resurrection light on tear-stained faces… He has loved you forever, and will love you forever, and He can be trusted. He does not rip the rug out from under you. He sees you and calls you by a better name than the painful ones seared onto your heart, by others or yourself. He hears you and He is at work bringing about what is good—that you would know Him and live fully in His love. He is right here, closer than breath, ready to speak if you ask Him (and sometimes if you don’t). 

This isn’t fluff. These aren’t platitudes to tide you over. This is reality. You can lean your whole weight on Christ; He will not give way beneath you. You can show Him everything about you; He will not walk away, but run to you. You can kneel at His feet, and hand over everything you have and all you think you are into His hands; He will not dash you to pieces. He will redeem your life from the pit. He will crown you with gladness, remove your despair. He will sing over you. He is who He says He is and does what He says He’ll do. He is good. The Word promises that. And He lives it out. Life is unpredictable and broken sometimes. Jesus is not. His love for you is sure and it is wholehearted. Take my word for it, sure—please do—but take His word for it. He is good. Draw close to Him. He draws close to you. Trust Him. “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.”

A Million God Stories is a Christ-centered ministry which offers a platform for Christians from all streams of Christian faith to give praise for how God has worked in their lives. Christ heals in infinitely creative ways and we acknowledge that His way of helping may differ from person to person.

#77 I’d Never Experienced Such Direct Divine Intervention

by

 

Photo by Trevor Rapp

“I’m sorry, Gary, but you can’t stay. You need a fourth of your tuition. That’s just school policy.”

The business manager had given me this same message three days earlier. Throughout the weekend I had gone through the small community of Grayson, Kentucky, knocking on doors offering to do odd jobs—painting, mowing, clearing brush—anything to raise $160 dollars, which (remarkably in those days) was a fourth of the tuition for my first semester at Kentucky Christian University.

I’d left home with $50 and a suitcase, selling the only thing of value that I owned—my saxophone—to raise the money. I believed God wanted me to go into ministry. My parent’s marriage had ended two years prior. I’d been in a serious accident (without insurance). My father was sued, filed for bankruptcy, and we had to sell our house and move into a small apartment. My mother was distraught, talking frequently about suicide. Life was difficult. But I wanted to go to college.

“Surely there’s a way,” I said to the business manager. “I’m willing to work. I just haven’t found a job yet. I know I can do this.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am.”

At that very moment, his secretary entered the office. She said, “Mr. Parrish, I just received a check in the mail payable to this young man’s account. It’s from a church in Louisville. It’s for one-fourth of Mr. Black’s tuition!”

I still remember how surreal that felt. I had done everything I could do and had come up with nothing. Nothing. And then, suddenly, God stepped in.

“You’re in,” Mr. Parrish said. “But there’s a long road to travel. Are you up for this?”

“I’m willing to work.” That’s all I could think to say. I was still stunned by the whole scene. I’d never before experienced such direct, divine intervention.

We talked for a few minutes, and as I got up to leave, his secretary came back. “Mr. Parrish, I’m still going through the mail, and I just opened another envelope with a check inside, payable to Mr. Black’s account. The donor wishes to remain anonymous. It’s for the remainder of his first semester’s tuition, and part of next semester!”

I sat back down. I felt so unworthy. So broken. So confused. “I came here to work my way through college and I reached a dead-end after one week,” I said. “I’ve never felt so desperate and defeated as when I walked in here today. It’s all so humbling.”

“Sometimes God waits until you’re desperate,” he replied.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because we need to come to the end of ourselves, and that’s a good thing,” he replied.

I’ll never forget that. That moment. Those words. That experience. And that’s how I went to college.

Every semester, for the next four years, I got another check from “anonymous” for more than half my tuition. To this day, years later, I don’t know who sent it. Obviously God sent it…through someone He prompted. Sometimes He works that way. Especially when we’re desperate.

I sometimes held three jobs at a time over the next six years (including graduate school). I occasionally hitchhiked back to Louisville when my mother was in her darkest places. Looking back, it was all a blur. An inexplicable God-venture that sometimes seemed to breathlessly move at the speed of light…and I was carried along, often exhausted, sometimes emotionally drained.

As I look back on it all, here’s my conclusion: God did it. All of it. I was merely a pawn in His divine game of chess. A willing pawn, to be sure. But He’s the King and He makes all the moves. 

You know something? It still works that way today. But sometimes you only learn that…when you’re desperate.

Dearest Heavenly Father, please…keep me desperate. 

A Million God Stories is a Christ-centered ministry which offers a platform for Christians from all streams of Christian faith to give praise for how God has worked in their lives. Christ heals in infinitely creative ways and we acknowledge that His way of helping may differ from person to person.

#76 The Beauty Of God’s Creation at B6

by

 Photo by Trevor Rapp

When I left Wednesday, flying out to California for work, it was very early. As I waited to board the plane at the airport, the sun was just rising. The sky was breathtakingly beautiful. I stood at Gate B6, gazing out the window, soaking it in and smiling at the gift that God so freely gives us every day. People were all around me—reading the paper, typing on their computers, looking at their phones, listening to the news on TV. And me too…how often I miss God’s beauty. It becomes a blurry background to my life filled with many deadlines, demands, and distractions. I wanted to share this magnificent sight, this sunrise, and proclaim to the entirety of Gate B6 the beauty of God’s creation. But I did not. My hope is that perhaps now I am sharing with even more people than those waiting at Gate B6.

A Million God Stories is a Christ-centered ministry which offers a platform for Christians from all streams of Christian faith to give praise for how God has worked in their lives. Christ heals in infinitely creative ways and we acknowledge that His way of helping may differ from person to person.

#75 The Check Came Early

by

Photo by Joy Monét Photography

In June of 2012, I needed to pay the bill for my son’s surgery, and we also had a leak in our basement that was quite costly. I didn’t have enough to pay my regular monthly bills with the extra costs of the surgery and fixing the leak. I considered getting a part-time job, but just didn’t see how I could manage, since I already had a full-time job. I maintained faithfulness in tithing 10 percent of my income and trusted that God would provide.

By the middle of the month, I really needed to pay my bills. I prayed the night of June 17th that God would help our family financially, and again before work the morning of June 18th. When I got to work that morning, there was a check in my mailbox for some extra work I did in May. This was work that I had done every May for several years, and the paycheck for this work usually didn’t come until July—AND this check was for more than I had expected! I am so grateful to God for His faithfulness! 

A Million God Stories is a Christ-centered ministry which offers a platform for Christians from all streams of Christian faith to give praise for how God has worked in their lives. Christ heals in infinitely creative ways and we acknowledge that His way of helping may differ from person to person. 

#74 More Peaceful Than I Could Ever Imagine

by

 Photo by Joy Monét Photography

God was patient. I actually attended a great church and youth group growing up, but although I “believed” in God, I didn’t know Him. In my mind, He was the distant guy in heaven who was surely disgusted and furious with me for the way I was living. Boys, drinking, marijuana, and eventually partying in bars and clubs five nights a week was the life for me. Surely so much fun would make me happy, right? 

After a disastrous (and dangerous) engagement to an alcoholic when I was twenty, a devastating miscarriage when I was twenty-three, and a general feeling of “Is this all there is?”—at the age of twenty-five I was ready. I had begun listening to Pastors Chip Ingram and Michael Youssef on the radio on my way to work (my car didn’t have a CD player and this was before the days of Pandora). I loved the stories they told and the fact that God actually seemed to answer their prayers, make them happy, and give them purpose in life. I wanted that, and seeing the joy and peace God was offering me, allowed me the freedom to let go of the garbage I had been holding onto in an effort to maintain my “happiness.” 

“Take it, God.” 

It wasn’t easy. I’m not one of those people who had a sudden conversion and all of a sudden walked around singing, “This Is the Air I Breathe” with a huge smile on my face. I struggled. I still had a boyfriend who was SO not a Christian, and I smoked Newports like they were going out of style. I did quit smoking weed and sleeping with the unhappy boyfriend, but I wasn’t quite sure how to change in my current situation. 

My best friend from third grade, Julie, had been praying for me for a long time. When she heard of my decision, and my desire to start fresh, she said hesitantly, “Chris and I had actually talked and prayed about you coming to live with us here in Richmond, but weren’t sure if you’d be open to the idea!” I was open. It was a tough decision because I knew exactly one person in Richmond, which was a two-hour move south from my home in Northern Virginia. 

As I was lying in bed one night before I committed to go, drifting off, I heard a voice. I don’t know if anyone else could have heard it, but it was definitely not a dream. 

God (and yes, His voice is deep and booming): “Go to Richmond.” 

Me: “What?” (Only I would make God repeat himself.) 

God: “Go to Richmond.” 

Me: “Okay.” 

That certainly made my decision easier. I packed up a month later, moved down, and began my journey of getting to know Jesus. I have never—not once—regretted it. Since then I have been a part of a couple of amazing churches, made the best friends a woman could ask for, seen God answer prayer in mind-blowing ways, been to Haiti on mission, and become happier and more peaceful than I could ever have imagined. 

I still struggle. I’m not perfect by any means, but God’s grace is truly enough and He leads me back into truth each time I forget. I have hope, I have joy, and I know my future is bright because God will be right there with me no matter what.

A Million God Stories is a Christ-centered ministry which offers a platform for Christians from all streams of Christian faith to give praise for how God has worked in their lives. Christ heals in infinitely creative ways and we acknowledge that His way of helping may differ from person to person.

#73. License Plate PS103

by

 Photo by James Schreiner

About 25 years ago, my best friend, Jennifer, lived in Atlanta, Georgia. She and I were in our twenties and had recently become very excited about the things of God. We would spend hours on the phone talking about the Word, and what He was doing in our lives. 

At the time, I was working in the small town of Berea, Kentucky, and had decided to drive down to Atlanta after work one evening to spend the weekend with her. I set off on my journey at about 6 p.m.—which put me just north of Atlanta at around midnight. This was before cell phones and CD players, so I remember passing the time listening to my only “Hosanna Worship” cassette tape and praising God the whole trip down. 

Now, this section of I-75 can be a very desolate place at that time of the night. The road is long and straight and there are no exits and no street lights—just miles and miles of flat highway. I never really acknowledged this until I felt that my life was in danger. As I was driving along, worshiping God, I noticed a car start to slowly pass me to my left. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a car full of guys waving at me and trying to get my attention. I was a little annoyed and just sped up to give them the hint that I wasn’t interested. 

What followed was about 20 minutes of terror for me. No matter what I did, I could not escape them. I would intermittently slam on my brakes or drive as fast as I could to try and elude them. Nothing was working. I was constantly looking ahead for an exit or in my rear view mirror for other cars, but there was nothing. I was on my own, with no cell phone, and no way of outrunning them. The situation grew worse when they started swerving into my car to force me off the road. At times, I would have to get in the emergency lane to avoid being hit. They were hanging out the windows, yelling and taunting me. I was terrified. My eyes were frantically scanning the road ahead and my rear view mirror for a sign of help. Nothing. 

Then—instantly—there were headlights right on my bumper. Instantly. They literally appeared out of nowhere. All I knew was that someone else was out there on the highway and I was not alone. As soon as I saw the lights, I pressed the gas as hard as I could to give myself space between me and the car full of guys. Much to my surprise, I watched from my rear view mirror as the car behind me swerved into the car of guys, forcing them off the road. I’m not sure exactly what happened because it was so dark. All I could see was the path of both cars’ headlights, and all I cared about was that I NEVER saw the car with my pursuers again. 

After about 15–20 minutes, I was relieved to see a group of cars ahead of me and I settled in among them and tried to calm down. Then, all of a sudden, I felt a car slowly approaching to my left. I thought, “Oh, no!! They’re back!” When the car was exactly beside me, the driver slowed down as if to get my attention. I glanced over, expecting the worse. I will never forget what I saw. It was a white Saab with red interior. The inside of the car seemed to be lit up so that I could see the driver. She was an old woman with short, bushy white hair and looked to be wearing all white. She glanced over at me, gave me a knowing grin, and waved as she pulled away. I was stunned. Then I saw her personalized license plate—“PS103.” I screamed! I had no idea what Psalm 103 said, but I reached for my bible and tried to see. I later read the entire passage. Psalm 103:20 reads, “Bless the Lord, ye his angels, that excel in strength, that do his commandments, hearkening unto the voice of his word.” God is good.

A Million God Stories is a Christ-centered ministry which offers a platform for Christians from all streams of Christian faith to give praise for how God has worked in their lives. Christ heals in infinitely creative ways and we acknowledge that His way of helping may differ from person to person.

#72 It Was Christ In Them

by

 

 Photo by Nicole Tarpoff

It was located in a storefront on the bustling street of the mid-sized township. Yesterday the church boldly opened its one door for free coffee and treats for the old town. And they dared to hope that love and expectant happiness might spread. Of course, the central heat died and couldn’t be fixed on time—which seemed par for the course. Everyone huddled in their coats and sipped on hot drinks. 

The following day, Sunday, the people brought an assortment of small space heaters—which of course blew a few fuses. But after some fiddling with switches and outlets, the place was moderately warm. They prepared for a normal day of worship. A few treats placed lovingly, coffee made pot by pot. Two greeters stationed happily to greet the faithful—the ones who came always: the elderly with canes, single young mothers with rambling and bright children, single people, young couples. This was the day to remake Jesus as King in human souls, as the faithful and tender leader—the One deserving worship. The Hopegiver. But, though the people had planted seeds and watered them, they did not make the plant grow. That was the heart-striking excitement of it all! In through the door that day new families and singles and senior citizens streamed through the door. They were not led by any human but, you could tell, by a Spirit more invested, more compassionate, more joy-filled, more merciful than any human. It was God Himself who gathered them up. The Father who sang into their souls: “Come.” Christ Himself who went ahead and behind. The Alive One, the giver of tingling expectation, was the warmth of that gathered family—strangers and friends together. 

The people scrambled to make extra coffee and find more chairs. Some had to wait to sit down to make sure the new ones had a place. In their hearts, working through love and hands, was the Holy. And joy tumbled and laughed and stood up straight with healthy pride. And it wasn’t them, it was Christ in them: the hope of glory.

A Million God Stories is a Christ-centered ministry which offers a platform for Christians from all streams of Christian faith to give praise for how God has worked in their lives. Christ heals in infinitely creative ways and we acknowledge that His way of helping may differ from person to person.

#71 I’m So Glad I Listened To God

by

 Photo by Laura Wilkerson Photography

Several years ago, a mama cow protecting her baby attacked my son and me. We went to the ER for treatment. I went into shock and they thought they lost me, but they didn’t find internal injuries and found only three fractured vertebrae. They said they did not know how we lived through that impact without sustaining internal injuries. They said it was nothing short of a miracle, and sent us home that day.

I had a long road to get better. I knew my son was fine, but I was not! I went to the doctor about a week later and immediately they sent me to surgery to drain the football-sized hematoma. I had it drained about three times. I was referred to orthopedics and they would not do any tests on me, even though I had insurance and had it approved to have an MRI. I knew I had more than three fractures; something wasn’t right! As I left in tears and deep frustration, I thought of my long-time patient who was a neurosurgeon, Dr. E. I called him and asked him what I should do. I knew he was a wonderful Christian man, and if anyone could help me it would be him! He had me in his office the next week. He ran several tests and X-rays and told me I had nine fractured vertebrae and said I was very close to severing my spine because he knew I had gone three months with no treatment! Long story short, he helped me heal. Thank God for him!

About two years after that, my friend had an appointment at the hospital so I took her in. As I looked at the directory in the Medical Plaza, I saw Dr. E. had moved his practice there. As I saw his name I felt God speak to me and felt a great need to go tell him thank you. As I went to his office and asked to speak to him, the receptionist took my name and immediately came out and said, “Come back, he wants to see you.”

I waited about three minutes in his office and he came in with open arms asked how I was doing and wanted to sit and talk. I said, “I know you are busy; I don’t want to keep you, but I felt God told me to come tell you thank you!” He said, “I really needed to hear that today, so thank YOU!” We talked a little longer, gave each other a hug, and I left. I wondered why God had me do that? I thought, well, he said he needed to hear that, so I guess that’s it!

Five days later I was awakened by a phone call from my coworker. Dr. E. had died in a tragic accident. Now I know why God had me tell him thank you, and I’m so glad I listened to him!

A Million God Stories is a Christ-centered ministry which offers a platform for Christians from all streams of Christian faith to give praise for how God has worked in their lives. Christ heals in infinitely creative ways and we acknowledge that His way of helping may differ from person to person.

#70. Angel In The Pasture

by

 Photo by Laura Wilkerson Photography

I am a mother, wife, and dental hygienist in Alabama. My husband Mark and I and our two children Hannah (18) and Landon (12) live in rural North Alabama on Mark’s family’s farm. He has always owned cattle, and loves the hobby.  

In 2006, I worked for a dentist who used to be a veterinarian. He had several horses and we seemed to have a connection immediately. I told him I always wanted a horse but my husband was against it because he thought it would “chase his cows.” I came to work one day and Doc pulled me aside and said, “Debbie, this has been on my mind for a few days now. I know you said your husband said no horses, but I feel like I have the horse for you. So you and Mark come over and look at her; if she doesn’t work out with your cows, you can bring her back.” I said, “Great! I’ll talk to him.” Doc had a nickname for me—he always called me “Sweet Angel.” I went home and Mark agreed to look at the horse. Doc mainly had Haflinger horses and a few quarter horses and then the horse he had in mind for me. My husband agreed that we would take the horse! I asked Doc her name and he was not sure. So he went to ask his wife who wrote it on a Post-it. When he got back in the truck with us he said, “Guess what her name is?” He handed me the Post-it, with the name Angel!! He said, “See, I told you she was meant for you!” 

In April of 2007, I went to the pasture where I met up with Mark, Hannah, and Landon. When I got to them, my husband asked me to check on #34 (a heifer) who had calved that morning. I took Landon with me on the four-wheeler, and went down to the pine thicket, where the cow and calf were. When I was about a half-acre away from the cow, I turned off the four-wheeler and walked a step or two to see if the calf was nursing on the heifer. All was well! I turned to look at my son—and felt the ground shake! I turned around and mama cow was running full speed, head down, and I had nowhere to go! If I moved, she would jump on my son, so I was “quickened” to let her hit me in the back! She threw me around seven to eight times, as I desperately prayed for God’s help. “God, I need you! Please keep my kids safe; let someone hear me!” 

Finally, my husband got to me, and said, “Debbie, please get up, she coming back!” I couldn’t feel anything below my head, and had already accepted that I was going to die. But I didn’t want another woman raising my children! Then Mark said, “The cow has Landon!” I immediately got up and ran over to a tree, and Mark was at a tree about six feet to my right. Our daughter Hannah was told to stay in the barn lot and pray. 

In front of us we saw Landon’s motionless body lying on the ground, and the cow was jumping over him like she was on a trampoline! With every jump, I just knew she was going to stomp him. We were praying for a miracle. Mark ran in and got him out from under her 1,100-pound body and we saw he was alive! But, it wasn’t over, as now the cow was after them! I prayed even harder! 

Just then, out of nowhere, my horse jumped the fence and ran like she was coming out of the heavens, and turned around and bucked that cow in the head several times as it chased her! We were able to get to the other four-wheeler and get to the hospital for help Landon had stitches on his ear and bruising. I had several broken ribs and about eight vertebrae fractures and a football-sized hematoma. It took about two years for me to get better. There are many more details to this story, but one thing I DON’T want to forget—my horse’s name is Angel. And she truly is! I saw God in her that day.

I have always “known” who God was. In fact, I don’t remember ever doubting that He was real. As I grew to an adult, I started diving into His word more and more, to learn who He really was and what my relationship with Him was. I prayed my family would always keep Him number one in everything and strengthen our faith. This miracle that happened to us was a great blessing! It taught our family that God is never late, His timing is perfect, and that we can always trust Him because His ways are not our ways. If we seek Him, He will carry us through. 

I’ve always heard all my life how stubborn I am; I thank God He made me with passion and drive. I could have chosen to let this destroy me and my family by becoming bitter from three years of surgeries, severe pain, and depression. But I didn’t! I was determined to get better. He held me, and I cannot let Him go! It will be 10 years in April, and my faith is stronger than ever. I’m not where I want to be, but I’m sure not where I used to be!

A Million God Stories is a Christ-centered ministry which offers a platform for Christians from all streams of Christian faith to give praise for how God has worked in their lives. Christ heals in infinitely creative ways and we acknowledge that His way of helping may differ from person to person.

#69 His Artistry Is Unparalleled

by

Photo by Ashely Brown, Shining Light Photography 

It is October now but the roses are still blooming. My dad always loved roses, and I can never remember a time when he didn’t have roses planted outside of our kitchen window so we could see them when we sat down to eat or talk at the kitchen table.

Dad is dying now, and I am his caregiver—trying to make this time as comfortable and peaceful as possible. I share his love of roses and have tended them in the months that I’ve been staying with my parents. I try to have a freshly cut rose in the house at all times, taking care to choose just the right one that he would think is the most beautiful.

Dad is getting worse, but he can still make it to the kitchen table. Yesterday, I cut the most beautiful coral rose in full bloom and put it in a crystal vase in front of him on the kitchen table. Even through his pain, his exhaustion, his shortness of breath—there it was . . . AWE! His eyes lit up and he said, “That doesn’t even look real!” For a moment, gone was the ugliness of the cancer, the chest tube, the pain. Forgotten… as he stared with the wonder of a child at the beautiful, perfect rose—God’s creation, God’s gift to him and to me.

A reminder to us that God is good and gives us beautiful, free gifts to enjoy. His artistry is unparalleled. If there is such beauty in this imperfect world, how much more beauty there will be in a perfect heaven. I thank God for the beautiful roses He created. I thank God for my dad and that I can be with him now. I thank God for heaven where there will be no pain, no tears, and unimaginable beauty. 

A Million God Stories is a Christ-centered ministry which offers a platform for Christians from all streams of Christian faith to give praise for how God has worked in their lives. Christ heals in infinitely creative ways and we acknowledge that His way of helping may differ from person to person.