April 7, 1985, I asked God to “prove” He is real. My life was in shambles at the time and I saw little reason to carry on. God answered my challenge that next Friday when I was invited to an Apostolic church service for the very first time. That night the preacher spoke a message that he got in a dream the night before. He said that he had never gotten a message from a dream, but felt he should preach this one. His message sounded like someone had told him about my life. He told of a small sick child that had been given up on due his illness. To his horror, the preacher said the community decided to bury the still alive child since they had no hope he would recover. In his dream the preacher was chosen to help carry the small casket to the grave. As they approached, he reached down and pulled back a cloth covering the small child’s face. When he did, the kid’s face had the look of an older, wise person. He then opened his eyes and gave the preacher a look that let him know that he understood why they were doing this. The preacher said he then awoke and the Lord said to him, “Don’t murder your miracle.”
I could relate to the circumstances of this child. When I was seven, I was dying from a lung problem. The doctors were not sure, but they thought it might be histoplasmosis, tuberculosis, or some type of cancer. The only thing they knew for certain is that my lungs were filling up with something and it was killing me. My mom prayed and surrendered me over to God’s will. That same day I was to have exploratory surgery. Just before they cut into me the surgeon ran more tests. When he did he discovered the growths that were in my lungs had all disappeared. Since no diagnosis was ever given. no medication was ever given to me. No surgery was ever done. Nothing man did could have caused this recovery. The next day my doctor sent me home. I never suffered that problem again.
At age 16 I was diagnosed with rheumatic fever. It had advanced into my heart and was causing me a lot of pain. I was hospitalized and there the heart specialist told me that tests confirmed my heart was ruined. He said I would never be able to walk around the block or ride a bike again. That same day, after I prayed, God healed my heart to the point that I left the hospital the next day without even a heart murmur. The doctors could not point to any medical treatment that led to such a recovery. And like my lung disease, my heart has been fine since. Though I knew God had miraculously healed me, I still did not serve Him.
Then my dad was attacked by a swarm of yellow jackets at our home in 1983. He did not know he was allergic to their venom until that day. When the paramedics arrived, they found no vital signs. Because of this they refused to transport my dad and pronounced him dead. I could not accept that he was dead. My sister’s wedding was to happen soon, and I knew if he was not there it would crush her. So, I laid my hand on his lifeless body and prayed to God that if He brought Dad back, I would serve Him the rest of my life. Soon after, Dad awoke. No CPR, no anti-venom, no medical treatment of any kind was given to him. But because he now had vital signs, the paramedics transported him to the hospital. The emergency doctor could not count all the stings on even one of Dad’s legs. He also could not understand how my dad survived without receiving any anti-venom. You’d think seeing such a miracle would move me to keep my promise to God, but instead, I ran –hard – the other way.
Even though I had encountered the supernatural power of God, I still had not experienced His transforming power, and that conversion is what my wrecked life needed. So, the night this preacher spoke of not “murdering your miracle,” I knew that God was answering my plea – just like He had miraculously responded to my needs before. So, one week later to the day, God gave a preacher I did not know, a message from a dream that was designed to tell a first-time visitor (me) that God did exist. I went back to that church that next Sunday to be Born Again in Jesus’ name as commanded in Acts 2:38. The date this happened was April 14, 1985. So, today is my 32nd New-Birth-day!
I’ve had ups and downs over these past 32 years. I had hopes and dreams that I believe God gave me. Many of these happened. Many of them have yet to occur. But regardless of the situation, I keep reminding myself of the message God sent me 32 years ago: “don’t murder your miracle.” That instruction makes me look forward to what is next. Who knows what that may mean in the next 32 years? Hey, don’t laugh, I’m promised eternal life, so 32 more years is not too much to expect – especially on my Birthday.
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