A few weeks ago, I asked for stories of God's miraculous provision--a request our Wounded Women of the Bible editor made, in order to round out one of the chapters.
I was blown away by the response. We simply had too many good stories to include in the manuscript! So, I asked the writers of a few of my favorite stories--which didn't get picked for the book--if I could share them with you here.
The following testimony is written by the lovely Shelly Miller, who writes powerfully over at Redemption's Beauty (and other places).
I really love this one.
Just This One Thing, It’s All You Need
Several nights a week I return to the dorm after curfew
smelling of pie and wet bar towels with crumbs smeared across my brown Pippins
Pie Pantry t-shirt. The pockets of my
wrap around patchwork skirt bulge with tip money to pay for college fees.
One Sunday, before fulfilling another shift, I sit in church
distracted by worrisome thoughts about how to pay bills coming due. While the
preacher delivers a sermon on living by faith, I usher a quick prayer, ask
Jesus for a miracle.
And just as I begin to stand up, make my way out of the
auditorium, an older woman sitting next to me grabs my arm, pulls me back down
and asks me to wait a moment. Stunned, I watch her fidget awkward in the
pockets of her coat. She leans over, whispers into my shoulder, “God told me to
give you this.” Takes my hand in her
hers and carefully places a wad of bills into my trembling fingers.
I hadn’t spoken to her once during the service. I came in
late, took the empty aisle seat next to her.
A stranger to me, or perhaps an angel appointed by God. I may never know.
And I don’t remember how much money she handed me that day.
Just that I went directly to the grocery store and every single item I selected
meant something.
Because I purchased each one with a miracle.
That lady, she obviously practiced hearing God’s voice and I
it makes me want to hear Him like that too.
So I practice and think of the disciples.
How Jesus sends the disciples out in pairs. They travel
light. Without money, extra shoes, or suitcases full of clothes and
toiletries. (Luke 10)
Just carrying the name of Jesus.
Because it is all they need.
For healing the sick.
And setting people free.
They practice the name of Jesus, over and over again. In the
kitchen of a friend, along a dirt road, at the store, they practice.
I stand in line at the grocery store; eavesdrop on the
conversation behind me between a father and son. Look into eyes wrapped tired
with lines. Leathery hands of a father
holding two loaves of doughy bread, bologna, milk, cereal. He shuffles bread
into one arm, counts the bills in his stubby, cracked fingers.
Whispers to his son, “I just got paid and it’s already
almost gone.”
The young boy looks at his Dad and I hear the guilt in his
voice when he asks if they should put something back. Return an item from what
an arm can hold, not a cart full.
Now I am the woman hearing Jesus, fidgeting in my pocket,
because I must act quickly to obey in this moment.
And as I pay for my things, I give extra to the cashier and
she looks puzzled. I whisper over to her that she can use it for the bill of
the ones standing in line behind me.
Just before I get to my van, the father, he comes running
after me. Asks me why I did that. Why did I pay for his groceries? And I tell him, “Jesus told me to do it,
because He loves you.”
The name of Jesus.
Practice using that name. It changes everything.
