#144 Little Church by the Creek

Photo by Nicole Tarpoff 

About five years ago my husband and I felt called into ministry—specifically missions. We put our house up for sale and headed to Indonesia in Southeast Asia on a vision trip. We met with the agency we would be serving with and became familiar with the city and schools. We felt affirmed in our call, but when we got home we received a call from the agency saying it wasn’t going to work out. It was a denominational issue. We were members of a Christian Church and it was a Baptist agency. This was devastating news. We had felt so sure that God was calling us to missions. We looked again to the story of Abraham and Isaac, asking ourselves if we were ready to give it all up, and we felt we were.

This was followed by five years of seeking what God would have us to do. We decided to just be obedient to the step in front of us. We felt our call was to become radical disciples and to make radical disciples who would then make radical disciples. My husband went on staff at our church and we began inviting people into our home, pointing them to Jesus.

About two years ago, we moved from the church where my husband was on staff to another church in our community. Our new church is very involved in mission work and has two church plants in Colombia. My husband and I decided to go on a mission trip to Colombia with a group from our new church. I felt the trip could be the answer to our call to the mission field. I told my husband on the plane ride over, “You know after this trip we are going to move to Colombia and become missionaries.” He agreed. We both loved Colombia and the people of the country, but on the plane ride home when I asked my husband about it he said, “God really affirmed that Harrison County (the county where we live) is our mission field and we are already are missionaries.” I felt the same way.

Shortly after this our pastor called us and said that a ministry that serves pregnant women in crisis planned to open a location in our town. The director of the ministry had called our pastor and told him the kind of person they were looking for in a director. He told me that he thought I had the qualities that fit and asked if I was interested in the job. At the time, my husband worked as an unpaid volunteer in a mission agency and I was the breadwinner for the family. I had a good job in sales for an advertising agency. My husband and I talked about it. This would mean a $40,000 pay cut per year and we would lose benefits. At first, we felt there was no way possible. We couldn’t pay our bills on this salary. We called our pastor and he challenged us to pray: “Lord, I am taking this job. Make it clear to us if this is NOT the way. Even though we don’t see how this would work financially, we are moving forward, trusting that You will show us if this is not what we are to do.” From this time on we had peace.

I started the job in January of 2017 and from the very beginning God has provided so many opportunities to love and serve. While this job doesn’t provide the income of my corporate job, it is so fulfilling and rewarding. I have met many wonderful people.

God is faithful, even when I am not. Especially when I am not. My husband now has a paid job with the mission agency. God has not only provided financially but also has provided a strong community of support in our church. He has opened small doors for us, and as we go through He opens another. He continues to lead us. We don’t know what the future holds but we are just looking for the next step. God will be faithful. He has always been faithful.

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.

#140 Fully Funded

 

Photo by Samuel McCarthy

It took a long time for me to freely feel the love of God. After being abandoned by my earthly father at the age of six, I struggled to believe that my heavenly Father could love with such sacrifice and mercy. Thus, I spent the better part of my life searching for love in a harsh, sinful world. This search led me to various places—drugs, alcohol, sex, etc.—where I would overindulge until my appetite was satisfied. By the end of my search for fulfillment, I sat empty and alone, too wounded to press onward, waiting to be rescued. My Savior and Healer lifted me out of my wreckage—where I had faced so much hurt and rejection—and led me to a place of everlasting grace and goodness. God found me in the pits of my own sin, at rock bottom, where others dare not go—and there, He held my face, wiped my tears, and promised to never forsake me.

Now this promise is what I grasp tightly amidst the raging doubts and fears of daily life. God delivered me from bondage almost four years ago, and since, I have yet to find more joy in anything this world has to offer. Thus, I dedicated the next years of my life to international ministry in hopes of proclaiming the most scandalous, outrageous truth I’ve ever heard— Jesus came to live amongst a people who would mock and reject Him, only to willingly lay down His life so these same mockers could have eternal life with the great Creator, Comforter, Healer, King, and Father.

After dedicating the next years of my life to international ministry, I found myself on the hard path of financial support-raising. Logistically speaking, I was given six months to raise $50,000 so that I could move to Australia and begin ministering to students at the University of Queensland. I began fundraising in June of 2017, and needed to be on an airplane to Brisbane—where I was to share the gospel for more than a year—by January 14, 2018. On November 6, 2017, I got an email from the team in Australia saying I needed to be at 80% fundraised by November 17th. At the time, I was at 66% fundraised—meaning I needed to raise over $6,000 in 10 days or my departure date would be pushed back by six months. I spent the rest of the day in a pit of unbelief, giving anxiety control over my conscious thought. I made phone call after phone call trying to set up meetings with donors, and contacted every prayer warrior I knew in hopes of bringing my request to the throne room of the Father. I went to sleep hesitantly that night, knowing I now had one less day to meet the deadline.

I woke the following day, Nov 7th, and spent the morning in prayer. I sat at my desk with my journal in front of me, paralyzed with fear that I had misunderstood my calling. I wondered if the loving God I had grown so fond of was asking me, like Abraham, to bring Isaac to the mount to be sacrificed—had I made ministry in Australia such an idol that I needed to hold a knife to its throat?

At noon that day, after a morning of contemplation and doubt, I decided to check my email. What I would find was the short and sweet response of a kind man I had emailed almost two weeks prior—with a message that said, “Sara, I would like to give you $5,000. God bless.” I fell to my knees, weeping. Never had I seen more tangible evidence of God’s love than in that email. My Father did not leave or forsake me. He did not reject me. He did not ask me to sacrifice the one thing I wanted. Instead, through the words of a stranger, He said, “I am for you, not against you; I am more committed to my kingdom than you could ever know; I am more committed to you than you could ever know.”

Throughout the next three days, over $8,000 was donated, bringing me to 82% fundraised by November 10th— a full week before my deadline. This work was done only through our merciful Father who wants good things for His children as well as the advancement of His kingdom. To Him I give all the glory, honor, and praise, for He is worthy now and forever.

Now, I sit typing this a week before departing for Australia. I am fully funded and the Lord has prepared and equipped me with His gospel. I am undeserving of such an honor. As you read this, please pray for the lost in Brisbane. Pray they will be open-hearted to the God who loves and protects them. Pray that God will use my weaknesses for His glory. Our God is big. He is alive. He is making a way. Darkness trembles.

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.

#139 Do It Again, God!

Photo by Abby Daughtry Photography

Several years ago I looked into my family history. I realized my personal connection to so many people, discovering some dark secrets as well. As I read the Bible again with fresh eyes, I saw that Jesus’ family history was quite colorful as well!

I then began to research the history of my church, St. Paul United Methodist Church. I picked up a history book that had been sitting on my bookshelf since 1982. With a Single Eye was written by a genealogist who attended our church. This tome documented the revival and awakening that took place in our budding city during the mid-1800s, before the Civil War, leading to the formation of many churches in the area. Reading the book piqued my interest, and I started doing more research online.

I found the local newspaper article from 1883 that recounted the “Great Revival of 1849.” The article was taken from a pastor’s speech commemorating the laying of the cornerstone of the first Methodist church organized in our community. He himself had attended the revival, explaining that prior to the revival, there were only seven professing believers in the town. He stated, “The preaching of the gospel was with no regularity, and seemed to produce no fruits.” That all changed that first Sunday in September of 1849 when two Methodist ministers began a revival, meeting every day, once in the mornings in a church in the main village nearby, and once in the evenings at the local public schoolhouse in the new city around the new railroad tracks. The first service was quite solemn and many penitent people came to the altar. The revival meetings went on for 21 straight days. The weather was beautiful and large congregations assembled daily, many coming from 20–30 miles away (remember, there were no cars!) The Holy Spirit moved powerfully, and there was weeping, confession, praying for one another, and much joy! 

One particular conversion stands out: A very respected gentleman of high character in the town, who was the chairman of the court and a successful businessman, was determined not to get carried away with all the “fanaticism” of his neighbors. He was so irritated, in fact, that in protest he went fishing at a place where everyone in the church would see him. He had no bites from the fish but many from mosquitoes! As he heard the songs coming from the church, a remarkable thing happened. He left with his heart and conscience heavy; the next day he was “at the church, a broken-hearted penitent.” This soul and many others came to know the Lord in the great revival awakening of 1849. At the end of the 21 consecutive days of preaching, 100 people had accepted Christ as their Savior. As a result, churches of different denominations were later built in the area, including the first Methodist, Baptist, Presbyterian, and Episcopal churches. Soon thereafter was the AME Zion church, and still later, the very first Pentecostal Holiness church in the world!

I now attend this same Methodist church that was built from this great awakening. Last summer, I committed to remembering this great revival and how the Holy Spirit moved so powerfully to awaken many souls. I committed to duplicate the same event, to pray for another revival and awakening in our community and beyond. Several others in our city, representing different churches and denominations, joined me to travail in prayer together. We met each day at sunrise and sunset at the same two sites of the original revival to pray for another great revival and awakening. This time, though, we began on the second Sunday in September, and continued for 21 consecutive days of prayer meetings. We have seen the Holy Spirit move mightily in our community again, and we are trusting that God will bring about another great awakening in His perfect time.

This has been a great revival for me personally, reviving me with a great infilling of the Holy Spirit. On the very last night, glad to be finished, the Lord gave me three dreams in a row, telling me to continue! And so we are, praying still for a great revival and awakening, joining the church all over the world praying for a great awakening, sowing seeds of prayers to blow in the Holy Spirit’s four winds to carry them as He wills…carrying the hope to all the hearts He wants to reach—knock, knock, knocking and waiting for doors to open, so that they will receive the gifts of grace, mercy, forgiveness, and healing, repenting and turning resolutely to follow Jesus. Then the world will know His love, the only true love there is…that there is only one true way to live life, abundantly now and forevermore…for he is the LORD God Almighty, the One who gives life and blessings. No matter how dark the darkness is we may face, no matter our sins and shortcomings, no matter what will come, He is YHWH, holy, holy, holy, who is and was and always will be. Our God! Abba Father God, the Name above all names, we love you, praise you, need you…whatever it takes, Lord, use us to carry out Your will today and every day, until that day comes when we, Your chosen children, will all be together as Your family in heaven, forever. Amen. So be it, thy will!

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.

#138 Softening My Heart

Photo by Killian Rose

On July 25, 2015 I was sitting on a motorcycle at a stoplight when a Dodge pickup truck driven by a drunk driver hit me from behind going 45 miles per hour. I was crushed between the truck and the car in front of me. My pelvis was shattered, my colon torn in half, my liver lacerated, ribs broken, arm broken, lung punctured, and the carotid artery in my neck nearly severed. I woke up under the pickup truck in so much pain, thinking, I have to get out from under this truck. I prayed, “God help me!” I was flown by helicopter to the university hospital. The paramedics kept saying, “Stay with us, stay with us,” which made me think I was dying.

When I came out of surgery, the doctors told me that I wouldn’t be able to have kids, I couldn’t go back to college for at least two years (I was 19 years old), and I would need to go to a rehabilitation hospital for a year to learn to walk again.

On my ninth day in the hospital I was able to move from my bed to a chair. I was released to my home, not a rehabilitation hospital, but I was still healing from multiple broken bones and was not able to bear weight on my legs. I had to have help brushing my teeth, getting a shower, shaving my legs, and going to the bathroom. My mom died when I was 14 and at the time of the accident my father was a single parent. He was happy to help me with all of the personal care I needed but I hated that he had to do all of those things for me. It was very humbling.

In October, I went back to doctor and found out that my bones were healing more quickly than expected. The doctor prescribed physical therapy and by the end of four weeks of physical therapy, I was able to walk with no severe limp. So instead of one year of inpatient therapy in a rehabilitation facility, I was able to walk with one month of outpatient therapy. In fact, this fall I hiked eight miles on a nearby mountain trail. I am so thankful to God for the remarkable healing! I was also able to go back to college in one semester instead of staying out two years.

After the accident, I experienced more than just physical healing. My mom’s death had been unexpected, a complication from a surgery. We had been so close and it was very hard for me to lose her. My dad is the pastor at our church and my mom had been the worship leader. She was also a teacher at my school. I missed her everywhere—at school, at home, at church. I felt like I couldn’t even go to my pastor for help because it was my dad and he was grieving too.

Years after my mom’s death, my dad got engaged to a woman, but I wasn’t nice to her and didn’t accept her. Accepting her meant I had to let go of my mom and I couldn’t do that. I missed her so much.

I hardened myself to protect myself from the hurt. I had closed off myself against relationships. Before the accident, I didn’t love myself and I didn’t think anyone else loved me—not even God. After the accident, so many people took care of me. There was an overwhelming sense of love and support of people rallying around me. I realized how many people loved me and that God had never stopped loving me. And despite how I had treated my dad’s fiancé, she showed me love and grace and took good care of me. I now see that my anger and bitterness had been hindering my dad and younger brother too from fully healing. Now our home is a place of real peace and it is a life-giving place to be.

Through this experience, God has softened my heart to receive and give love to others. I had internalized so much anger and hurt that it festered into external thorns. I tried to hide it and act okay, but I was hurting people. I didn’t want to accept that I hadn’t fully grieved. I had to realize the internal hurt. It was like a coffee cup with a hole in the bottom—I got all filled up on Sunday at church, but it would quickly drain out and there was no complete deliverance from my pain. I had to acknowledge the hole so that God could heal the hole and I could experience complete healing. And this is what has occurred. God is making a beautiful picture from the broken pieces.

The person driving the truck was a 20-year-old female driving on a suspended license, two times over the legal alcohol limit. Nearly a month after the accident, I was contacted by the commonwealth attorney about pressing charges. He recommended a 20-year prison sentence with the possibility of parole in 17 years. I told him I wanted to pray about what to do. I talked to my dad and the chaplain at my college. I was being asked to make this decision at 20 years of age. I wondered how I could send someone to jail for 20 years. And what if she had kids? I knew what it was like to lose a mom. I didn’t want to take a mom away from her children. But I also didn’t want her to go back on the road and harm someone else.

My chaplain talked to me about restorative justice, which is a model where the offender knows what has happened to the offended and they plan what is best for the recovering offender so that they don’t offend again. I met with the commonwealth attorney and asked about restorative justice, but he said there was nothing like that in our state. Regardless, I didn’t want her to serve a 20-year prison sentence. Instead, she was sentenced to five years of probation with six months in jail and another six months in rehabilitation and 100 hours of community service. Her conditions included random drug screening and sobriety tests and maintaining a full-time job. The attorney was shocked that I didn’t want her to be punished more severely. He said with her alcohol level and the extent of my injuries, he was surprised that he wasn’t working with the surviving family in a homicide case.

Fast forward a year, and I got a text from my dad that the woman had been called in for her random drug screening and she drove to the courthouse with a suspended license and drugs in her system. Since she violated her conditions, she would have to go to jail for 20 years. I had gotten a lot of compliments from people about the grace I had shown her and I told them it was God impressing upon me to do this. But when she violated her conditions, I got so angry with her and thought she spat on my grace. And then I realized we do this with God—we spit on His grace. I have done this. It was humbling to realize this and it helped me to be less angry and more compassionate.

Even though I still suffer physical pain and limitations, God has brought good from the accident. Because I lost my mother, I have been able to comfort other young people who have lost a parent from a place of really knowing how difficult it is. I have personally experienced great physical healing, but the greatest healing has been the spiritual restoration of self-worth that is not based on me following handed-down religious traditions, but instead is based on God’s grace. I am confident that there is nothing I can do to undo His love for me. 

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.

#137. God Is At Hand

 Photo by Pam VanArsdall

I was born with polycystic kidney disease, an inherited disease that slowly progresses and eventually causes the kidneys to shut down. There is no cure except a transplant. I discovered that I was living with the disease about 15 years ago, at around 30 years of age. I was healthy at the time, and for several years after my diagnosis, I kept a busy schedule and lived a normal life. But I felt something bad was coming. My dad also had the disease and died from complications.

In the summer of 2016, I prayed, “I don’t know how this will turn out but I do have one request: I want to be able to see my daughters grow up. I don’t want to miss out on those precious moments in their lives.” I’ve never heard God’s audible voice, but He told me this, “You will have to suffer for a little while but I will raise you up.” 

About a year ago my physical health was deteriorating. I had been feeling really bad but had been hiding it. I have three little girls and I was working full time. I was exhausted all the time. December 10, 2016 was the night everything changed. I serve as associate pastor at our church and was scheduled to preach the next morning, but I came down with horrible diverticulitis. I was the sickest I had ever been. I prayed if God would get me out of bed I would go to the doctor. I was able to get out of bed and I went to see my kidney doctor. He told me things were very bad and wanted me to go into the hospital for dialysis. He said if I had waited another two to three months I likely would have fallen dead in front of my children. I believe God sent the diverticulitis to get me to the doctor. In January, I began dialysis. I was able to work half days and take dialysis at the center nearby several times a week. I transitioned to home dialysis around March, but this was still hard on me and on our family. In April, I went for testing to be placed on the kidney transplant list. We were praying for God’s help. 

Meanwhile, my dad’s younger brother also had polycystic kidney disease. He was also on dialysis and had been on the kidney transplant list for a long time. He was a great support person for me. 

Two close friends volunteered to donate a kidney but they were both declined. This was disappointing. While I was waiting to see if one of my friend’s kidney matched, I got a text message from a lady I knew from high school who played basketball in the late 1980s at a rival high school. I had seen her around at different sporting events but hadn’t talked to her in 25 years. In her text, she asked if I would give her a chance to be a kidney match. My wife and I prayed about it and we were reluctant. As difficult as it is to give the gift of a kidney, it is also difficult to receive, because you know you are asking this person to really do something big. I had told the woman I would get back with her, but I did not. A couple of weeks later she contacted me again and said, “Would you please let me attempt to be your donor. Please give me a chance.” I said, “That’s a lot for me to ask of you.” She said, “God has asked me to do this.” I immediately gave her the phone number to call about testing to see if she was a match for me. 

There are several tests necessary to confirm a match. During this time, the woman kept messaging me as she took each test and telling me she passed. Finally, she sent a message that she had passed all the tests and had an appointment with the surgeon. 

In July, I received a call from the transplant center: “I’ve got good news for you. We have a successful match for a kidney transplant!” 

The surgery was scheduled for July 20. We were so excited! God had answered our prayer. We both met with our surgeon on July 12. When the surgeon saw the results of the match testing he said, “This is a no brainier. This is a 100% match! This is a perfect match.” This was GOD!! 

I asked my pastor to have all the ordained men of the church pray for me before the surgery and my uncle who also needed a kidney transplant was one of the deacons that prayed for me. I remember in particular my uncle’s prayer. He had been dealing with kidney disease and dialysis a lot longer than I had but he never mentioned himself one time. He had every right to mention himself, but he just prayed for me. That really impacted me. 

My surgery was scheduled on a Thursday morning. We were getting ready to leave for the hospital on Wednesday evening when we got a call from my uncle. He had previously told my wife that he would be with her during my surgery. He told her that he could no longer be with her while I was in the hospital because the hospital just called and they had a kidney match for him! 

The next morning, I showed up at hospital at 5:30 a.m. The woman who was donating the kidney was already at the hospital. They prepped us both for surgery and she insisted that the nurses bring her bed to mine so we could pray before our surgeries. My wife and her sister joined hands with us and in front of all of the doctors and nurses we asked Jesus to take care of both of us. 

As soon as the kidney was placed, it began working immediately. The surgery was completely successful for both of us. After they got me in a room, my wife told me that my uncle had gone into kidney transplant surgery at the exact time they took me into surgery and his surgery was successful. God divinely healed both of us at the same time. The story started to spread and even people who are not Christians could see that it was God’s hand. 

I believe in angels and that we encounter them from time to time. When they were moving me to a hospital room after the surgery, the phone in the room was ringing. My wife answered and I could tell she didn’t know who was on the other end. Afterwards, I asked her who it was and she said, “I don’t know, but it was a sweet lady’s voice and she said to tell you and your uncle that you will both be okay. Her name is Anita and she said she is an old acquaintance.” Later I asked my uncle if he knew anybody named Anita. Neither of us know anyone named Anita. 

Later when I was discharged from the hospital it was discovered that my phosphorus levels were dangerously low. I couldn’t go home from the hospital until I had the phosphorus infusion which would last six hours. We were taken to the far back corner of the emergency room, to a room that seemed like no man’s land. My wife and I were tired and really just wanted to go home. We were frustrated and having a really difficult time being patient with the delay—even just one hour into the six-hour infusion. Then there was a knock on the door. I told my wife they must be lost because no one would be back here. The woman said, “I’m sorry, I think I have the wrong room. Is your name Thompson?” We said yes. She said she had a piece of mail for us, which was interesting because we never received any mail when I was staying in the hospital room. She left and my wife opened the card and started to weep. She showed me the front of the card. It simply said, “God is at hand.” It was as if God just walked through the door and sat down with us. I felt His presence so strongly—perhaps more strongly than I ever have. The card was signed, “Many Blessings, Miss Anita!”

After the transplant, I immediately started to feel like a new person. I didn’t know how sick I was until I got the new kidney. We are four months out now and every check-up and every test has been perfect. I have a second chance at life now and my whole outlook on life has changed. I used to borrow tomorrow’s trouble for today, but I have learned to live life one day at a time. I have changed my whole outlook on life. I smile more. I laugh more. 

I have learned from this experience how many people really care for me. God reminded me that it is a truly priceless gift to have people that love you and that this gift comes from Him. Those loved ones come from Him.

God knew every need I had and He met them. I’m a walking miracle. He is truly faithful.

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.

#136 Just the Right Small Town Chef

 

Photo by Jordan Smith

My husband and I own guest houses and needed a place where our guests could get a good meal. Our town really didn’t have a healthy lunch option. We considered starting our own restaurant but we resisted knowing that it can be very challenging and many restaurants don’t make it.  When our son started a business with a few other fellows to process locally raised, grass fed meat, we had a great source of quality protein for a restaurant. We decided to move forward with opening a restaurant. We created an ad for a chef. From the beginning, we bathed this in prayer, asking that God would bring the right person.

We knew what we were looking for was pretty specific and that it could be challenging to find someone with all of the qualities and skills we desired. We wanted to attract someone with business sense, as well as someone who felt the same way we did about the importance of healthy cooking and natural foods. We wanted someone who would fit in well with our culture—small rural town, closed on Sunday, family oriented, and a slower pace of life. We also felt strongly that the person should be a chef. We created our ad and posted it on the Monster.com classified ads. At this time, all we had was a building on the corner with a dirt floor.

Two weeks later we had a response from someone. He was a chef and was interested in healthy foods. He was married with three children and was looking for a family-oriented place to live. He wanted to get involved in the community. We invited he and his wife to dinner at our home.  I could tell that he “got” it about healthy foods. We showed him our building with the dirt floor. He and my husband shook hands on the deal and he and his family moved to our town. Two months before we opened, I sat up in bed and said to my husband, “We have never had his food!” We had prayed for God to send the right person and were listening to the Spirit. We felt God had brought this man to us and that he was the right one, so we never even thought about tasting his food! The first time I tasted his food was on opening day and it was delicious. The restaurant is now starting to become profitable.

Many good things have come from God bringing us together. Not only have we been blessed by him, but I believe he would say that his faith has been encouraged by being here. God hears and answers prayers. He brings people together and works things for 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.

#135 Peace in the Storm

 Sketch by Sam Joslin

We had been married for a year and nine months when we found out we were expecting our first baby in September of 2015. I remember looking at the test and bursting into tears of thankfulness, then seeing the look on my husband’s face of sheer and utter excitement. At the time, I was in my first year of teaching first grade and was anxiously anticipating being a mother, pastor, and teacher. I felt physically healthy during the beginning of my pregnancy, but my emotions were a rollercoaster. My husband and I were dreaming daily of baby names, nursery colors, and future family vacations. We were on cloud nine and prayed daily for a healthy baby. On October 8th, we had our first appointment for an ultrasound. We both got teary when we saw the tiny speck of life on the black and white screen, a small flickering heartbeat in the middle. Our doctor expressed some concerns at the time that our baby was measuring very small for its gestational age of nine weeks, but that it was common and shouldn’t cause any issues to arise.

The following week was a whirlwind. I started having some problems and was fearful that something could be wrong. My doctor checked and the baby’s heartbeat was noticeable, strong and flickering as before. One week later, on October 16th, I went back to the doctor for a third checkup in the same week. My husband and I could tell that there was something wrong when the ultrasound technician went quiet, the screen out of view. She left the room to get our doctor, and in my spirit, I knew what was to come. Our sweet doctor came in and told us there was no heartbeat to be found. We’d had a miscarriage. The words our doctor said blended together, a mix of “it’s very common” and “you can always try again.” My husband and I felt defeated, like we were broken somehow, and we leaned into each other heavily in that moment. In the midst of trial and pain, it’s easy to get angry with God and what we perceive His plan to be.

The days to follow were very dark and hard, yet there was an abounding peace that followed my husband and I. At the time, we were meeting in our house for our home church, and my husband, a pastor, considered canceling that Sunday so we could grieve. The message he had planned the week before was about finding peace in the storm; we knew we needed to have church in our home, and to this day are thankful we did.

The weeks and months following were blurry, emotional, and frustrating. I felt the peace of the Lord, but was still so upset that I wasn’t pregnant. It felt like everyone else I knew was in the middle of a healthy pregnancy, glowing and excited on the little squares of social media. I was given the strict order that we could not try to get pregnant for four months. As those months went on and 2016 started, I had several friends experience miscarriages. They reached out to me for comfort, guidance, and advice. My heart ached for them, but I knew that as much as my miscarriage was painful and part of my story, it was my job to share the hope and peace that God had provided me during the process of our miscarriage.

In the fall of 2016, we decided to try and start our family again. We were settled into our new house, I had started a new job that summer, and we were ready. We felt slight disappointment when a test came back negative during those first couple months of trying, but knew that it would happen. I attended a worship night with Bethel Worship in Nashville in the middle of October, the middle of our season of trying to get pregnant. A girl prayed over me as I shared my heart of wanting a baby. She prayed into my life words of encouragement, telling me that I was already a mother, that the Lord was preparing me, and that I was Hannah in His eyes (meant to have children with strong faith). At the end of her long and tearful prayer, she hugged me and shouted, “Congratulations!” She was celebrating what was to come; she was calling out what wasn’t as though it was.

Two weeks later, I was standing in the line at Walgreens, pregnancy test in hand, ready and anxious to take it the following morning. As the cashier handed me my receipt and the bag, she looked me so sincerely in the eyes and told me “congratulations.” Walking to my car, tears filled my eyes, and I felt in my spirit that that wasn’t just a hopeful phrase from a stranger; it was a prophetic promise from the Lord that we were going to have a baby. I went to sleep with peace and woke up early the next morning and took the test. I saw the word “pregnant” display on the screen.

Today, I am 29 weeks pregnant with a very healthy baby boy whom we will soon welcome into our family. My pregnancy has been filled with overwhelming peace, health, and joy. We haven’t been fearful and have trusted the whole time that our baby is healthy and that the Lord is taking care of us. The Lord is so faithful to keep His promises. The things that He begins in you, He will finish and will bring to completion.

I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. Psalm 27:13

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.

#130 Seeing God in Stories

 

 

Photo by Jordan Smith

I published my first book in 2013. In that story, a brother was mentioned who had served in Italy and was killed in World War II. My father served in World War II but didn’t see action. When he returned home, he learned that one of his friends had fallen in a battle at Anzio, Italy. The friend was buried there. My husband and I went to Italy and learned more about World War II history. We visited the cemetery where my father’s friend was buried. We didn’t find his tombstone but did find his name on a memorial listed under those who were Missing in Action.

In my second book, I really wanted to go deeper with the character of the brother who was killed in World War II in my first book. I wanted to use old letters to tell the story of the brother but I wasn’t sure how to go about this. During this time, I attended a dinner party. One of the dinner guests said, “I liked your first book. Are you going to write a sequel?” I told him I was and that I wanted to explore the brother who fell in World War II through letters in the next book. He told me that his great uncle had served in World War II and that he had the letters his great uncle had sent back from the Italy to his family. He also told me that his great uncle was a Kentucky farm boy, which is exactly what my character was . . . and he said he would share these letters with me! This was just what I needed. The letters were family heirlooms, so I carefully color copied them, read them all, and gave them back. The cover of my second book is actually a photo of these letters.

The gift of the letters was so helpful. The language was very different from what I would have imagined, and what he talked about in the letters wasn’t what I expected. Mostly the letters were about two things: 1) he wanted to know what was happening on the farm in Kentucky, and 2) he reassured his mom that he was okay. The letters were beautiful—poignant and sweet. I included several of his letters verbatim in the book. God brought these letters to me exactly when I needed them; the perfect timing was amazing. This also affirmed and encouraged me to write the second book. God inspired me to keep going.

Something similar happened when I was writing my first book and needed information about international flight attendants. My husband and I were staying at a bed and breakfast, and my husband asked the owner what she used to do. She said she used to be an international flight attendant! I asked her if she’s traveled to Rome (the character in my book traveled to Rome) and she said, “Oh, yes!” I asked if I could talk to her for a few minutes and she told me everything I needed to know—where flight attendants stay in Rome, what they do with their free time in Rome, what the crew room is like in the airport, how they got from airport to hotel, and how seniority worked with bidding flights. She was the perfect resource at the perfect time.

God has revealed to me that He is attentive to the details of our lives and that these details are important to Him. My books are Christian fiction. Even though I am not a pastor or a missionary, I want my work to be for God. In a way, my writing and my books are my ministry. Through seeing God work in the details of my story, I saw that He cares about writing and telling stories. I felt God’s affirmation that I was doing His work, and I saw that nothing is impossible with 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.

#129 Ten Second Miracle

 

Photo by Abby Daughtry Photography

In the early 1980s we were planting a church in Jacksonville, Florida, and some friends had come to help us. They were living with us at the time and had an infant son younger than a year old. One morning my wife and I were in the kitchen and heard a frightening scream from the spare bedroom. The mom was screaming, “He’s dead, he’s dead!” Her young son had been laid on a high, antique Ginny Lind bed as she turned around to get a diaper and had fallen off. She said he landed on his head. When we arrived in the room he was laying on his back on the bed. She said, “He doesn’t move; he’s not breathing!”

I looked at him; his eyes were open and unresponsive. He was blu​i​sh in color, and when he was touched or spoken to there was no movement or response. All this took place in about 10 seconds. I just placed my hand on his chest and said, “In Jesus name, live.” No yelling or pushing—just a gentle touch and voice.

Then it was as if we had placed heart-shocking paddles on the boy’s chest. His body jerked and he regained consciousness. He began crying, turned a normal skin color, and was fully responsive to sound and touch, with no apparent injuries from the accident. We were overwhelmingly delighted to see that all the power is in the name of Jesus and not in how we do anything. There wasn’t a lot of fanfare and fireworks . . . just a great and powerful God doing great and powerful things. 

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.

#123 Narrow Escape

Photo by Ashley McKinney Brown, Shining Light Photography

Nearly fifty years ago, I was squirrel hunting with a friend in a swampy region of Louisiana. My friend had gone off to another area and I was alone. I had already killed two squirrels and had noticed that other squirrels were feeding in beech trees. So, I began to look for beech trees. I came upon one, and crept up on it very cautiously and quietly. I stopped and just watched the tree at for at least five minutes or more. Then I decided there was no squirrel in the tree. I turned my head to the right and saw a briar thicket. I couldn’t go that way. I couldn’t walk towards the beech tree because there was a tree down from a storm that was blocking my path. As I looked to the left, it was as if my eyes were magnetically drawn to the ground. There was a huge rattlesnake coiled with his head cocked, ready to strike.

If the snake had struck me, there would have been no hope for me. My friend was too far away. I would have died right away as this was an extremely poisonous snake. I had a 12-gauge automatic shotgun with me that I was holding at waist level. Miraculously, the gun was already pointed directly at the snake. I didn’t even have to move the gun! I just had to hold tight and pull the trigger. I shot the snake in the head and killed it. I had been very calm until this point, but realizing the danger I had been in, I began tremble. I wanted to retrieve the rattles (there were 13) to prove this encounter. I picked up the tail—even though the snake was still moving—and broke off the rattles. I put the rattles in my pocket and headed back to the place where I was to meet my friend. I found him resting against a fence post. I showed him the rattles and he said, “Let’s go find it!” We looked for the beech tree and soon spotted the snake. We pulled it out of the swamp because it was too heavy to carry. We draped it over the car bumper and it hung off of both sides. We measured it and it was 6 foot and 3 inches!

When I got home from hunting, I went in to tell my wife about the snake. She said she knew something had happened because she had a terrible feeling that I had been bitten by a snake while I was gone. When she felt this, she got out of bed and went down on her knees to pray for me. I asked her what time she had prayed for me and she said 8:00 a.m. That was the time that I had shot the snake. My wife and I have been married for 66 years, and having a premonition like my wife did that day is extremely unusual for her.

When I remember this day of narrow escape, I just think of how amazing it was that God communicated to my wife that I was in danger and that He answered her prayer for my safety. He intervened on my behalf to save me. This is just one example of the many amazing things God has done in my life. I give Him thanks and praise for the wonderful ways He works in our lives!

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.