healing

healing

#177 God Goes Before Us

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 Photo by Chelsea Jo Photography

It is the Lord that goes before us. He is with us. He will never leave or forsake us. Do not fear or be dismayed.

Deut. 31:8

I had memorized this verse a couple of weeks before heading on our trip to Alaska . . . not knowing that we would see this promise in action.

We left for our 50th anniversary trip on July 31, 2018. Ardon and I were in good health and looking forward to visiting this “last frontier” of beauty and nature. We first flew to Seattle, staying two nights to become accustomed to the time change. Before leaving, I had contacted an old friend. I knew she lived in the area, but as we did not have a car, I knew the likelihood of seeing her would be slim.

On August 1, we purchased an all-day pass on the Light Rail that went from the south side of Seattle to the north side. We rode all the way to the end, determining sights we would see on the return trip. When we got off the train, we found we were at the University of Washington Huskie stadium. I remembered that my friend’s husband was a professor there and guessed they wouldn’t live too far away. I called her and found out she had the time to visit, and she picked us up at the university. We spent time in her home, went for lunch, and caught up with hours of good conversation. This friend and I had not seen each other in 54 years. God went before us.

Our trip continued on a flight to Anchorage, a train ride on the Alaska Railroad to Denali, an eight-hour tour through Denali National Park, then back on the train to Fairbanks to enjoy a couple of days and a riverboat Discovery tour that passed Susan Butcher’s home and a native village. Now we were homeward bound to the “lower 48 states,” but our Heavenly Father wasn’t through with us yet.

The next day we flew to Anchorage for rest before heading home. But that wasn’t God’s plan. During Ardon’s first void of the morning, he passed a one-centimeter kidney stone. The pain, the bleeding, and the shock of passing something that large put him back in bed for a half hour. I asked him if he wanted to go down for breakfast. He did and so we did. During the time we were eating in a very warm dining room, I noticed that Ardon was beginning to shiver. I asked him if he wanted to go back to the room and he said yes. Fully dressed, he got under the covers and said he was freezing. I recognized the “shocky” symptoms and said I needed to go get help. He said, “No, let me rest for a little while.” I could see that things were not improving and finally said that I was going to the desk to get help. I went down and asked if there was a physician in the hotel. He said no, but asked if I would like him to call 911? I said yes but would need a wheelchair to get Ardon down to the lobby. They had a wheelchair, and a staff member came to the room with me. I gathered my tote bag and Ardon got in the wheelchair. When we got down to the lobby, Ardon was shivering violently. I asked for blankets which were kindly provided. The EMTs arrived and Ardon was sensing that his body was failing. The ambulance took us to JBER (Joint Base Elmendorf/Richardson AFB) where the only VA medical center in Alaska was housed. Our ER doctor was a graduate of the University of Nebraska, our home state. God had again gone before us.

The doctor recognized the signs of septic shock (blood sepsis) and immediately started two bags of saline as Ardon’s blood pressure was going down severely. The EKG indicated the heart was being attacked and a PIC line was inserted with two kinds of broad spectrum antibiotic administered via IV. Four IVs were running simultaneously. Urinalysis, chest X-rays, and blood tests were also being done during the next eight hours. Ardon was at that point stable but in very serious condition. Meanwhile, I was contacting children and siblings, getting all the prayer warriors on board. Within six hours, prayer warriors from coast to coast were praying. Another of God’s provisions.

Ardon was transferred to ICU that evening. The social workers came alongside me to find out how to help. We were to have flown home the next day, and our suitcases were still at the hotel where we had paid for two nights’ stay. The social workers provided taxi vouchers to and from the hotel and said that I would be able to stay at Fisher House (a ministry to out-of-town vets and active-duty military and their dependents) as long as needed. Praise God. The social workers took care of all the cancellations and were able to get a percentage of our non-refundable tickets and hotel fee returned to us. God had gone before us.

After checking out of the hotel and returning to the hospital, hearing from the doctor that Ardon was still in very serious condition, an appointment was made for me to check into Fisher House. When I left the hospital, Ardon said, “If you come back to just a body, know that I am more alive in Glory and I will be waiting for you.” The confirmation and assurance of that statement was affirming that Ardon knew his eternal home was waiting for him . . . but it was also a shock to me who was accustomed to seeing him attack all his “medical emergencies” with a fighting spirit. I walked to Fisher House, introduced myself, got registered, received a tour and my keys, and told them about Ardon’s comment and our hope in Jesus’ finished and redemptive work on the cross. The social worker said to me, “We are all believers here, too.” It was comforting to know that God was continuing to go ahead of us.

At the hospital, Ardon was showing a little improvement. His blood bacteria levels were going down, but now I was seeing swelling of his arms. The doctor said the swelling was a part of the process and that in three days it should go down. Later in the morning, I received a call from a young lady I hadn’t seen in 20 years, a grand-niece of dear friends back home. She said she was married, was a nurse, and lived in Anchorage . . . and would I like a visitor? Of course I said yes—if she could get on the base. She arrived after lunch with her little three-month-old daughter. We had a good conversation and she asked if there was anything she could do. With all these antibiotics going into Ardon, I was concerned that his intestinal flora was getting upset and that he might end up with C.Diff. I felt he needed some probiotic and/or Activia yogurt. She said she would be glad to get that for us. During the time she was gone, I went to Fisher House and returned to the hospital, caught my toe on the well-polished tile and fell, cutting my chin with the key on my lanyard. The young lady returned with the probiotics and promptly took me to an ER off base. She surely was an instrument of healing and ministry to us that day. God was indeed going before us.

On Sunday, Ardon got word that his blood was clean and would be moving to the general ward if he reached some of the achievement goals. I had been using the public restroom on the floor and had started reading the bulletin boards there. To my astonishment, all the boards contained protocols and articles for sepsis. What would be the chances that this hospital had just finished their staff in-service with instructions on sepsis?!! Another of God’s provisions.

Ardon was moved to the general ward that night. The next morning brought more news. The nurse told him he could continue recuperating for a couple more days in the hospital or he could continue recuperating at Fisher House. Needless to say, when he heard that news, he was determined to be moved immediately. But Physical Therapy had to sign off that he would be able to be at Fisher House and walk around it safely. When the therapist came in, his first question was, “Where in Omaha do you live?” I said the northwest corner. “No,” he said. “I was raised there. Where do you live?” I said, “156th and Maple.” He laughed and said, “I went to Kiewit Middle School and graduated high school at Millard North.” I said, “Stop, you are going to make me cry. That is where our grandchildren go.” Again, God was letting us know He was going before us. Ardon passed his PT test and was transported via wheelchair to Fisher House.

Over the next five days, Ardon recuperated, gaining a little strength each day. His appetite was poor due to the antibiotics and lack of exercise, and he lost 11 pounds. One of the residents was a chef and made some lovely breakfasts and suppers. So with better food, exercise, fresh air, conversation (he was able to share the gospel with this resident), and sleep, Ardon was ready to travel by Sunday. During this time, I was able to pray with one of the female residents, and Ardon and I befriended a young mother and her three-year-old daughter who were in Anchorage for surgery. May God get all the glory—for who He is, for His ever-loving kindness to us, and for His leading in our lives. We could not do life without Him.

Since returning home, follow-up visits and doctors have all confirmed that Ardon is way ahead of the healing curve, and his strength continues to increase. We are so thankful. We wanted you to know with total belief and trust in the finished work of Jesus Christ, that you can have a Heavenly Father who goes before you and with you wherever you go. His love is extreme, abundant, and free. Place your trust in Him today.

For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life. John 3:16

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.

#161 In Awe of the Light

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Photo by Brianna Rapp

When I was 21 I did something that I felt I had to do, something that I regretted the moment I did it. Afterward, every aspect of my life was shaken, and not one moment went by that I did not feel the repercussions in my mind, body, spirit, and every relationship of what I had done.

It was not until seven years later that I went to confession. The priest was so kind to me. I felt so liberated after praying the prayers he instructed me to pray and felt encouraged to talk to God. Now the gate was open.

A few months later at work in the hospitality industry, I was walking from the back toward the cafe counter via the seating area, and I saw a tall man of about nearly seven feet in a suit with neck-length, wavy hair talking to another man. I noticed him, not for any particular reason, but as I was walking past them I felt this man look at me—not in the way we normally look at people but as though he were looking at me through his spirit, and I felt him touch my heart.

As I walked to the barista counter, a latte came up with the docket number four. I turned, and there he was, sitting facing my direction with a black number four waving me in. I walked, looking perhaps a little embarrassed because of what I had felt;after all, this was just a man. But as I walked toward him he looked straight at me and said, “I believe you’re looking for me.” As I placed the coffee down on the table, I replied gently,“Yes, and I found you.” Although I did not look up at him, the power in that moment was magnetic; I felt like someone wanted to get to know me, wanted to talk to me, wanted to make me smile.

I walked away, did another round of clearing tables, and came back out. He was not there, but had left a half-finished latte. And as I approached our barista and asked him if he saw the man at table number four, he confidently said, “Nope.”

That day will live with me always. I know there is no physical evidence of who this man was, but it happened for a reason. I knew what he was saying and what the experience was saying to me. I was so inspired by this moment that I started reading true stories and testimonies of encounters with God, stories of miracles that have resonated with my spirit.

One day I lay on my bed, and spoke to God as though I were speaking to my friend—freely, without discipline in my words, and with no restraint, just purely myself. I fell asleep, and during that sleep He let me see something that is now burned into my mind and heart forever. I heard a voice—a deep, kind,trustworthy voice. In that moment, I did not know who it was, but I felt completely at ease. He said my name. I was in awe of the light I saw. It started off as a small circle like the sun and then grew bigger, slightly changing color in each domain,getting brighter and brighter until it filled my eyes. It was stunning. But that was not the best part. It was what I felt. He was pleased. Happy. Elated. I could feel how much He loves me, how much He loves the world—and it was breathtaking. No earthly pleasure could come close. I then woke up.

Now my soul isn’t as heavy and unbearable anymore. All I did was something simple: I reached out my hand, and in return He granted me His Kingdom.

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.

#158 Restoring a Sound Mind

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 Photo by Nicole Tarpoff

I was raised in a divided home. My dad was a party guy and drank a lot. My mom dragged us to church every Sunday and Wednesday, but was very angry. Her life didn’t end up the way she expected, and there was a very disappointing feel in our home most of the time. Growing up I thought I would much rather be like dad because he was having much more fun. He was eventually hurt at his job in the coal mine and there was no financial help for us after that. My mom worked with a direct sales company to make ends meet, and this meant I spent more time with my dad and we got even closer. After my dad got hurt, he got depressed. My mom began to resent him even more because he wasn’t providing for our family.

I was a good kid and made good grades, but I always compared myself to others. In high school, I pulled away from the good group of girls, and started hanging out with a different crowd. When I was 15 I took my first drink of alcohol and it was like I couldn’t go back to being good. My view of God was that He was harsh and you had to be perfect to come to Him. I felt like I had destroyed being able to be loved by Him, so I began a downhill spiral. When I was 17, I was in a car accident and got my first prescription for pain pills, and things quickly got out of control.

I used the MRI I had from the car accident as the “proof” I needed to get pain pills. I graduated with honors from high school and then went to college. When I was 19, I met a man at a bar and after knowing him nine days I dropped out of college and moved to Columbus to move in with him. I thought I was okay through all of this. I was using drugs daily, even though I had a job as a dental assistant. I lived with the man four years and the relationship was very abusive. His main source of income was selling drugs, and that became a big part of my life too. His mom died and she lived in Kentucky. So, we moved to Kentucky and were living in a car for six months. When it started getting cold out, I went back to my mom’s home. The man died a few months later.

 

After he died I started getting in a lot more trouble. The next year and a half I worked on and off at a gas station. I became an IV drug user and then could not function. It was then that I realized that I really had a problem. I could no longer hold down a job. I started stealing and getting arrested. In 2010, I was in a really bad car wreck and the money to pay my medical bills came to me and I kept the money. I became worse than I had ever been. I got arrested and then got a DUI and went to court. The prosecutor said, “I’m going to make sure you do a year in jail if you don’t get help for your addiction.” My mom stepped in and talked me into doing drug detox. On December 2, 2010, a residential Christian addiction recovery program opened in my town and I began my journey to recovery there.

I was really scared. I didn’t know if I would ever have a sound mind again. I had racing thoughts. I would read and not recall anything I had read. Things just didn’t click. I had been intelligent in school and it was terrifying to think I may not ever be able to function normally again. But it kept getting better. I can remember the first time I could remember a scripture verse and write it without going back to look at it. I finished the program and was offered and accepted a job at the Christian addiction recovery center I had attended. Eventually, I went back to college and finished my degree in psychology.

Recently, God has helped me discover more about who I really am. I have transitioned from working at the Christian addiction recovery center to a career in business, but there is still a lot of ministry involved in my job which I truly enjoy. I’ve discovered that I thrive in leadership, especially when I am provided opportunities to encourage and inspire people.  

God is so good and so loving and always working things out for good even when we don’ know what He is doing. He never left me through all of the dark days of drug addiction. He was there every step of the way, calling me back to Him. I am so grateful for the changes He has brought about in my life . . . and I am most grateful for His love.

For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.

2 Timothy 1:7

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.

#157 All Things Are Possible

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 Photo by Nicole Tarpoff

One Sunday, I met a new friend after service. He was sitting down waiting to chat, so I didn’t realize anything was wrong with his body. As we prayed, he explained the emptiness in his heart. I shared about the love of Jesus and he gave his life to Christ. Peace, love and joy flooded him! He then told me a story about his health. Five years ago, during back surgery, he had been left with constant pain that was a 10 on a 10 scale. The surgeon had nicked a nerve, making his left foot drag. Due to difficulties with pain meds, he chose not to take them. In the process of adopting two small children, he underwent yet another back surgery and had seven spinal fusions. His mobility was severely limited, but he was still convinced that God was going to heal him. I called my teammates over, and as we prayed, the pain decreased in half, then decreased again, and then was gone! He stood up to walk around, and his foot started coming back to life. As he walked, more motion came back. We stood and talked for a bit, which he had been unable to do without excruciating pain for years!! He wept with gratitude, joy, and relief. There were lots of tears all around. Praise Jesus! He came back to our meeting the next day and shared his testimony. He was able to bend and reach past his knees and had been on the floor playing with his kids all afternoon. He came back the next day and was able to reach down and touch his toes, which, with seven spinal fusions, is impossible. As Jesus said in Matthew 19:26, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” I pray the same way when people are healed as when they aren’t. It’s a mystery to me why sometimes miracles occur and sometimes they take more time. But I’ll keep praying, believing, and celebrating the beauty of what only He can do. Our God is a healer, He is good, and He loves to restore. Yay Jesus!

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.

#152 Getting Kicked Out Saved My Life

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 Photo by Nicole Tarpoff

I came from a good home. My dad was a coal miner and my mom worked in the school system. I was in church every time it was open. My experience with religion was one of rigidity, based on the list of things you do and don’t do. My understanding of God was that He was nothing more than a task master who was recording my rights and wrongs and keeping score, expecting perfection. I’m not sure I was taught this, but that is the way I interpreted it. The people in that religious system weren’t malicious, they were just doing what they thought was right.

In high school I played basketball, made good grades, and was valedictorian of my senior class.  I am inquisitive by nature and asked a ton of questions about religion—questions my parents and my church were not comfortable hearing and answering. The gist of their answers was “You just need to believe.” Because questions were not welcomed, I developed a level of skepticism. I was also bullied in school which created a sense of not being sure of my identity and self-worth. I started using marijuana my junior year of high school for two reasons, really—to fill a void because a relationship with God wasn’t a part of my life, and also because it impressed a certain crowd and I wanted to fit in. 

The first time I smoked marijuana, a switch flipped and I was immediately psychologically obsessed with getting high and changing my mental state. I wasn’t physically addicted yet, but psychologically the addiction was unleashed the first time I tried it. I do have a history of addiction in my extended family, so I may have been genetically predisposed for addiction. 

I had a scholarship to go to college. The only career options that I understood for my life in 1997 were to become a doctor or lawyer. I was only the second person from my family to go to college and I didn’t perceive a big buffet of options. I didn’t like history, so that seemed to eliminate law. I decided to go the pre-med route.

My first night on campus I tried alcohol for the first time. I loved it just as much as marijuana from the first drink.  By the end of the semester, I had experimented and fallen in love with every drug available in the area. Somehow, I was still making good grades. A friend from my hometown that grew up going to the same church as I did was at college with me and he also had a lot of questions about God and religion. He had a philosophy class and we started meeting with the professor. He was the first person who had an educated and non-confrontational conversation with us about our questions about God and religion. He identified as atheist/agnostic and I began to identify that way as well. Things started changing in my life. I continued to fill the void with drugs, alcohol, and women, and at some point, I began using prescription medication daily. I began to use OxyContin, as this was a new drug introduced in our area.

It became apparent that I would have to stop my lifestyle in order to pass organic chemistry, so I decided to choose a career that didn’t require organic chemistry. Medical school required organic chemistry but physical therapy did not. I got accepted into physical therapy school. While I was there I was a full-blown prescription medication addict and alcoholic. I graduated from physical therapy school in the top 25% of my class. I moved back home to start working as a physical therapist. I was making good money and the addiction went into overdrive because I had more money. I got married in 2005–2006 but it didn’t last long. In less than three years we were divorced. I lost my house to foreclosure and lost two cars. I was living in a house with no running water, no electricity, and five to six people staying the night—it was a drug den. But I continued to work as a physical therapist.  Eventually, I was living in my car, making $107,000 a year with barely enough money to get gas to get to work. I ended up moving home with my parents to try to get some stability. They didn’t fully understand what was going on with me but knew there was a problem. 

During this time, I met the woman who is my wife today. We married in 2011. I didn’t tell her about my past and she didn’t know about my drug problem. She just knew I used to be wild. About two years into the marriage, I stopped caring about everything. Anything that wasn’t nailed down would be at the pawn shop for drug money. Finally, my wife said, “I love you but you’ve got to go. You can’t stay here. I can’t help you anymore.” This was the day that she showed me the most love. I was sick and tired of living the life I was living. I constantly thought about killing myself. When my wife said, “You’ve got to leave,” I was actually relieved because it freed me to go get help. I went to my parents and they got me connected to a Christian addiction recovery residential home and when I walked in (still an atheist/agnostic) the people who were Christians weren’t judging my mistakes. They told me they loved me and they were glad I was there and that God had a purpose for my life. This was a new way of thinking about God for me. One of the pastors at the home taught us what prayer was. Up until then I understood prayer to be not much more than a list to Santa Claus. The day he taught me that prayer was two-way communication between the one praying and God, I was immediately frustrated that no one had ever told me this. I was baptized two to three weeks into treatment. My wife began to visit me at the treatment facility. The first Sunday I was in treatment she went to church and asked God for guidance about how to handle it—specifically if she should she stay married to me. In the message that Sunday the preacher talked only about forgiveness, especially about forgiving people who do not deserve it. She decided to give me a chance.

Even though I had my license to practice physical therapy, I decided that God was calling me to stay at the addiction recovery center and be on staff. After I successfully completed the treatment program, I followed God’s calling, and left a six-figure income to become an intern with the addiction recovery center for $75 per week. My pay for two weeks after taxes was $137. I brought the first check home and gave it to my wife and said, “I don’t care what we do with this, but $15 of this is going to a tithe!”

Miracle after miracle occurred to get us through the nine-month internship financially. Every random dollar that came, I attributed to God. When I reached the one-year clean and sober mark, I met with the CEO of the treatment program and he offered me a position at the corporate office. My wife and I prayed about it and I accepted that position as his deputy chief of staff. His chief of staff had had some health problems and wanted to spend more time at home. Within six months, through a series of supernatural events that I can’t really explain, I became the chief of staff of an organization with over 200 employees. I still serve in this position and just celebrated three and half years of being clean and sober. 

Recently, my wife and I felt called to leave our home church, even though there was no problem. We told our pastor and asked him to pray for us. I felt like I was called to lead a new church but resisted it. My wife and I met with some families who also felt they were to do something different regarding church. We continued to meet each week just that small group of people, then opened to the public as a new church a few months ago. We are trying to let the love of God flow through us onto others. Public speaking was one of my greatest fears. In the past I would have been terrified and paralyzed in front of a crowd, but now God has helped me to get comfortable with speaking. We meet at a locally owned coffee shop downtown. We purchased a baptismal trough and have already had some baptisms which have occurred in the trough on the sidewalk in our little town. We are seeing God work in wonderful ways in the new church.

My wife is a fifth-grade teacher and she has children in class that have difficulties because of the drugs in their families. She uses what she has experienced with my addiction to help her students. She speaks from a place of deep understanding, empathy, and compassion, and students respond positively to her when they don’t respond well to others. 

I have hurt a lot of people and made a lot of bad decisions, but God is using it for good. I have learned about who God really is—that He is not the task master that I thought He was. I have discovered that He is a loving Father who sees us as His sons and daughters and He has a purpose and a plan for our lives. I am thankful for my wife and my family and for second, third, and fourth chances. I am thankful that God led me to a Christian addiction recovery center, a place that allowed me to encounter His true nature. I am most thankful that God is good and that He forgives. He has wiped away my shame and regret.

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.

#132. A Beautiful Masterpiece

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 Photo by Ashely Rainwater Bilbro

In eighth grade, I started having terrible migraines. They lasted for months on end and I didn’t know what was wrong. Medication didn’t help. My parents took me from doctor to doctor—one even thought I had brain tumor, but I did not. Finally, a doctor determined that my migraines were related to hormonal issues. He told me that there was a new drug on the market, that it wasn’t FDA approved, but that he thought I should try it. He said that it caused weight loss but that I could afford to lose weight.

Perhaps I had blossomed a little more than the other girls in my eighth-grade class, and I did come from a big Greek family and we loved to eat, but I was by no means overweight. The words of my doctor about losing weight really bothered me. I thought, “Even my doctor is telling me to lose weight.” But I didn’t speak these things out loud. My doctor also told me to exercise more. After the first 5–10 pounds that I lost, I got some compliments. I realized the medicine was making me lose weight quickly, and things began to spiral out of control. I became obsessed with what I was putting into my body. By end of eighth grade I had gone from 120 pounds to 90 pounds. My parents attributed the weight loss to the medicine. But I was constantly restricting my food and over-exercising. By the time I entered high school, I had lost another 15 pounds, and eventually I got down to 65 pounds. My parents thought I was eating but I was giving food to the dog or hiding it. They didn’t understand why I was losing weight and took me to multiple doctors. Finally, when I was alone with one doctor, he said, “Is there something you want to tell me?”

I broke down and told him, “I can’t get ahold of myself. I don’t know why. I want to be smaller. I want to be beautiful.” This secret had been choking me and I felt great freedom in telling the doctor. He reassured me that he knew how to help. He connected me with another doctor who began meeting with me once a week. At my first appointment, he looked at me and said, “I am really not quite sure why you are alive, but there is a God up there and He has a big plan for you.” The doctor said he had never treated anyone in such a serious condition from an eating disorder. My heart rate was less than 30 beats per minute (normal is 72). My bones were brittle from malnourishment, but none were broken. When he related it to me like that—that my life was in grave danger, and in fact he seemed surprised that I was alive—I knew things needed to change.

I realized that I had a problem. I needed the Lord to give me peace. I needed His love to pour over me and change my life from the inside out. I recommitted my life to the Lord. I was raised in a family of committed, dedicated Christians. But I had been drawn away to earthly things. The number on the scale dictated my worth, not the fact that I am a child of God. We live in a world where we compare ourselves with others and it is very tempting to fall into that trap.

It took a few years and I had a few setbacks, but I am much better now. I am happy and healthy with no irreversible damage. I am now getting my PhD, and it is surreal to think of the change in my life.

But it is still a struggle for me. I can’t do this without the Lord. Every morning I still feel ugly and undeserving. But I start my day in prayer, and that changes me. The Lord is right there saying, “Your worth is in Me.” I know that God has a purpose for my life. I can use my experience for God’s glory to help other people who feel trapped. I am closer to the Lord than I have ever been. This is how God’s grace has worked in my life. I want to embrace His grace instead of questioning it. I want to embrace it and pass His grace and love on to others.

I have a Type A personality and it was hard to surrender, but this is what really saved me. I just let Him take over. I had to turn to the One that created my life and give my life to Him, surrendering to Him every day. Each day I say, “Okay, my day is Yours. Tell me how to go about it.” This can be applied to anyone’s struggles. Whatever it is, God can get you through it.

I have often meditated on the verse from 1 Corinthians and thought, “This is the least I can do for Jesus—honor Him with my life, and that includes my body and how I treat it.”

“Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.”

1 Corinthians 6:19–20

God has never forsaken me. He is always there. I feel like my life was a broken vase. God has glued it back together into a beautiful masterpiece and I never want to go back. 

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

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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.

#121 Divine Intervention

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Photo by Ashely McKinney Brown, Shining Light Photography 

I grew up in Mississippi in the 1930s and 1940s. In 1963, I graduated from the New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminar. Shortly thereafter, I accepted a call to pastor a church in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.  After 50 years in ministry, I still enjoy being a pastor very much.

Last month, I was preaching on Sunday morning. It was like any other Sunday morning except that particular July morning, I was having some chest pains. After the service, I blacked out for a little while. Even though I wasn’t feeling well, my wife and I joined our son and his wife for lunch after church. I continued to have some chest pain through our lunch. When we got ready to leave the restaurant to go home, I got into our car to drive my wife and I home and our car wouldn’t start. Our son then got into our car and he couldn’t start the car either. This was very curious because it was a new car and we had never had a problem with it before. So, our son and his wife drove us home from the restaurant. When we got home I still wasn’t feeling well. They checked my blood pressure and it was very low – something like 80/38. They called 911. When the EMTs came, they checked me out and took me to the hospital where I was admitted. Meanwhile, my son-in-law went to check our car at the restaurant and it started right up the first time he tried it. Since this time, the car has always started just fine on the first try.

The next day there was a time when I was alone in my hospital room. I had no visitors and there were no doctors or nurses around. I began to have a very difficult time breathing. It was at just this time that our daughter came to my door and seeing that I was having this episode, she went to get help. The doctors and nurses came quickly. The cardiologist told me I was having a heart attack. The next day I had three stents placed because I had three blocked arteries in my heart. Since that time, I have been recuperating and now I am doing much better. I have resumed preaching on Sundays. I am thankful that I can continue serving as pastor because God is blessing the church in many ways. It is prospering and good changes are taking place in the lives of the people.

If my car had started at the restaurant, I could have blacked out or had a heart attack on the way home, causing a wreck and hurting my wife or other people. Because our son and daughter-in-law drove us home, they were able to check my blood pressure and call 911 to get me to the hospital before I had a heart attack. If our daughter hadn’t come to the hospital at just the right moment, I may not have gotten the care I needed in time to save me from the heart attack. Everyone we know – including me – believes that God intervened. God is faithful and He promises never to leave us or forsake us. He has demonstrated this to me many times in my life. This was only one of many occasions.  There are many other stories I could share!

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.