Provision, Prayer & Healing

#149 Little Church by the Creek

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Photo by Nicole Tarpoff 

God blessed me with a good foundation. I grew up in the church. My grandmother lived with us and we shared a bedroom. She knelt by her bed every night and prayed in a whisper. I could hear her as she prayed for the less fortunate and missionaries. I heard her pray in her prayer language. It was such a blessing, a real learning experience that I didn’t realize I was getting at the time. Mamaw would always help in any way she could. She stayed in the background but taught us how to help and what to do and how to do it. She was not only an example in prayer but also an example in her life. She never preached but her life preached.  

Growing up we went to church every Sunday. I gave my life to Christ at a holiness camp meeting when I was seven years old. Our family attended a very evangelistic church. I remember during church Mamaw waving her hanky and praying with tears streaming down her face. I would say, “Mamaw,” and tap her on the hand and she would say, “Shhh, you will break the Spirit.” 

God taught me many lessons through my grandmother—to be a servant without words. All those years ago in church, she cautioned me not to break the Spirit, and indeed God showed me the fruits of His Spirit working in her life. She was a woman of patience, kindness, and gentleness. She showed love to many people and showed remarkable peace and faith when she faced hardships. When her husband died, she had a graceful, calming presence in that storm. God also showed me the importance of perseverance and faithfulness through her life. If you continue your walk, your faith grows and God gives you the ability to serve in humility. 

Music is in our family. My mom was a singer and sang at almost every funeral, wedding, and revival in our county. My grandmother and I often attended. I am now the worship leader at our church for the first service. I play piano, lead the choir, and pick out the songs. Both of my daughters sing in the choir. I try to impress upon the choir that we aren’t just singing. I encourage them to see what the song means and to convey that message to the people in the congregation and bring them to a place of worshipping God. My favorite hymn is “Great Is Thy Faithfulness,” as I think that is the original praise and worship song.

I have experienced God’s faithfulness throughout my life. One particular time comes to mind. I had been working with a ministry and I would hear women give such emotionally gripping testimonies. I thought, “Oh Lord, please don’t make me do that.” But I was asked to give my testimony. I was scared to death. It was last minute—another speaker quit just before and they asked me to share. I turned it over to God and He was faithful. I can’t tell you what I said but He gave me the words. This and many other occasions have shown me that God is always faithful. 

I am thankful for my family, especially for my grandmother who was such an example and inspiration to me. I am thankful for the church of my childhood and the church I now attend, for the fellowship and encouragement of believers and for the opportunity to serve Him through music. God has been good to me and I am so grateful. 

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.

#147 Little Church by the Creek

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Photo by Nicole Tarpoff

Several years ago, a lady spoke in our church about a project to help orphans in Russia. She talked about the opportunity to go to Russia to visit the orphanages and help. My husband and I had never been on a mission trip. We both clearly felt the Lord calling us to go to Russia, which is interesting because I am really not that fond of working with kids! It was December and the trip was in May. The cost was $3,000 per person, so we needed $6,000 for the two of us to go. We were struggling financially and were in a lot of debt at the time. In fact, just ten days before we heard about the Russian trip, we had filed for bankruptcy. We didn’t have a dime and thought, “How do we do this?” But we felt called us to go so we moved forward and applied for passports, trusting God to provide everything we needed.

In March, we attended a meeting with people from different states who were also planning to go on the trip. All donations toward our trip had to go to the organization, so before this meeting we didn’t know how much had been donated toward our trip. I felt going into the meeting that the amount was $740. When we found out at the meeting that the amount donated toward our trip was $740, I was so happy I jumped up and down. Even though this wasn’t close to what we needed, it was confirmation and we were more confident about our call to go. 

The day the money was due we found out only half the money we needed had been donated. We didn’t understand. I called a friend who was the pastor in another town (at the little church by the creek) and told him we didn’t have enough money to go but that the organization had given us ten more days. He asked who else we could ask to donate. Our regular pastor really hadn’t been that supportive of our going on the trip and I didn’t understand it because it was through his church that we learned of the opportunity to go. Our pastor friend at the other church asked if we could talk to our pastor about it. But I didn’t want to do that. I just kept asking other people for donations. I felt God calling me to talk our pastor and during church I felt God telling me that I was harboring bitterness toward the pastor and that I should ask for forgiveness. The message that day was from Philemon and was all about forgiveness. During communion there were different stations set up and the pastor stood up front. I walked up to him and said, “I need to confess. We don’t have all our money for the mission trip and I have kind of held it against you.” He said, “You jumped the gun. We are getting ready to bring out the bucket of love.” At the end of the service we had all the money we needed for our trip. Had I chosen to stay hurt and not gone to him and asked for forgiveness, I don’t believe God would have provided the money. 

My husband and I went on the mission trip. I now have a real heart for missions and have been on multiple mission trips since then. But I believe the first mission trip experience wasn’t about the mission itself. Instead it was for me to see God in a new way and to see myself as a forgiven person. I am finally able to trust God completely and no longer be led by fear.

Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.

Jeremiah 33:3

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

#146 Little Church by the Creek

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Photo by Nicole Tarpoff

When my husband and I were in the hospital getting ready to have our first baby, I was in labor but it was in the beginning and not intense yet. For some unexplainable reason my husband and I began laughing uncontrollably. This went on for a long time. The nurses even came in as my electrodes began popping off of my stomach. They asked many times, “What is going on?” We could not stop laughing and could not tell them anything. We were both in tears from laughing so long and so hard. Now, looking back on this, it had to be the Holy Spirit filling us with unexplainable joy.

Fast forward 23 years, and our son that was born that day is in the battle of his life struggling with heroin addiction. It started four years ago. Since then my husband and I have struggled from day to day with knowing what to do, how to help him. Often the situation has seemed hopeless. He would go to rehab treatment, transformation homes, get better, come home, and then relapse. We have found that there is only one answer. We have to depend on God, to pray each day, multiple times a day, to put everything in God’s hands. Through prayer, God has given us guidance about what to do next for our son.

I remember one particular day I felt God leading me to take our son to a church to participate in a men’s group. I even took off work to do it. He didn’t want to go but eventually said he would go but not in the car with me. He followed me there in his car. I thought he would ditch me on the way and was surprised when he actually followed me all the way to the church. When we arrived at the church, he didn’t want to get out of the car. It was time for the meeting to start and the other men were arriving. I told him he needed to get out of car but he didn’t move. Eventually he got out of his car but wasn’t ready to go inside. Just when I thought for sure he was going to jump back in his car and leave, the men who were getting out of their cars noticed him and came to him on either side and guided him into the church. I was going to leave but felt the Lord prompting me not to. I tried to leave several times but the Holy Spirit kept me there walking and pacing.

After approximately two to three hours, the men started trickling out of the church. Then I could see our son from a distance. He looked like a ghost. Glowing, he came to me and said, “I am overwhelmed and that was a lot to take in.” I could tell he had been crying. I hugged him, told him I loved him, and off he went with the guys from the church to begin a recovery journey with them by his side. I cried uncontrollably after he left. One of the church leaders came out and chased me down before I left and told me that our son surrendered everything that night and that he was going to be okay. Then I understood why God had prompted me to stay. It was so I could see this and hear this news. I cried loud and hard all the way home. I even kept driving past our house because I couldn’t stop crying. That night was the beginning of our son’s journey to recovery. It was also the beginning of me wanting a closer relationship with God. I discussed with my husband about getting into and belonging to a church and for our family to dig deeper, to learn and grow. He finally agreed. We went to several churches, finding the little church by the creek and making it our church home.

But there were many bumps in the road. Our son overdosed a few months ago. It was a terrifying experience for him and for us and our family and friends. We stood at his bedside as the doctor told us a few things were damaged (his hearing, his left side, etc…).  But miraculously he recovered completely. Something changed in him after this experience. He has been drug free since then and we believe he is truly seeking after Jesus. He gave up his previous “friends/community” who were into drugs, and alcohol and now the members of our church are becoming his new community. He has new family and mentors who support and encourage him. He meets with our pastor and some of our church leaders in hopes of learning to become a leader himself. Our pastor believes that our son is called to be in young adult/teenage ministry and/or possibly become a pastor and that he will change the lives of many people through his testimony and ministry. We have kept our faith and will continue to put our faith and trust in our Savior.

God gave us the precious life of our son 23 years ago and He has continually guided us as to the best ways to help him. God has not given up on our son. He miraculously saved his life from the overdose and has protected him from harm again and again. God is working in powerful ways in the life of our son, drawing him to Jesus. His life is transforming before our eyes and we believe that God will use his pain and his past to do great things in His kingdom.

He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. 

Philippians 1:6

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

#144 Little Church by the Creek

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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

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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!

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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

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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

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 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

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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

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 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.