True Life Stories Archives | Inspiring Stories of faith

How God Saved Me From Death in Prison

by Amaka | Dec 22, 2022 | Life - saved, True Life Stories

How God Saved Me in Prison

I grew up as a little boy in the heart of Cape Town, South Africa. I lost my dad in a car accident when I was around 3. My dearly beloved mother – bless her soul— put me in a boarding school from a very young age.

Shortly after High School, I was recruited into the Army. We were not rich, but the little we had, I learned to appropriate because it came at a price.

Life was hard in those days as my mother needed to take care of me as a single parent. We had to make do with the meager salary she received as a nurse from the Provincial Hospital. I grew up with no father figure around. My mother took the role of a father rather than the loving, caring mother I so desperately wanted and needed.

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Corporal punishment was the order of the day in our school and home. So, when I put out a foot wrong or got myself into trouble — which I often did — I would get a massive spanking from either the Principal or my mother when I got home. I remember the many nights I was left outside on the porch without food or a warm bed to sleep on, so I could learn my lesson.

After the military, I wanted to prove to the world and, more importantly, my mother that I was a man. I wanted to show everyone I could fend for myself.

I didn’t know that I was far different from the innocent child I once was. Wrong ideologies, false indoctrinations, and worldly desires had slowly molded me. Mental and psychological disorders overtook me. My harsh environment and lacking proper values and principles would eventually lead me to fall.

My Life Was Out of Control

My corporate career started rather well. Soon, I realized that I had a natural gift talent for entrepreneurship. I found myself traveling the world, soliciting business ventures, and now in the illegal trade of uncut diamonds. Life was great. Glamorously good, I often thought to myself.

I didn’t see that; obsession, greed, and self-gratification slowly became my friends. My life was dripping with materialism, sexual immorality, fornication, and worldly pleasures. Lies and hidden agendas became my second nature.

I engaged in trade secrets and unlawful behavior, breaking every rule of moral virtue and godly principle just to close the next deal.

In 1994, I made a decision that would completely ruin my life. I stole some money from an investor to purchase a parcel of illegal diamonds, which I sold on the international market and pocketed.

During this time, I gambled obsessively. I mean, I was a compulsive gambler. Before I knew it, I was on the VIP list of nearly every casino around the world. The more money I made from my diamond and trade deals, the more I needed to make to fill the craving for more. I needed to cover the losses from my gambling obsession. It was an endless loop of making more and gambling. I was completely out of control.

Pay Back Time Came Knocking

I spent daily fortunes in the casino, not thinking of the huge black hole I was digging for myself. It never even crossed my mind that I was sinning against God whenever I walked into a casino.

For years, it appeared I had gotten away with the crime. Nothing happened to me – well, so I thought. But in 2005 (11 years after I had committed the crime), I heard a knock on my door. It was the Police with a warrant for my arrest.

I was arrested and transported under high security to Cape Town. At that time, I was staying at one of the upmarket suburbs of Sandton in Johannesburg. They then took me to Goodwood Prison, where I had to appear before the Magistrate, who would inform me of my charges.

The day that I was to appear in Court, they took me to the Bellville Magistrates Court in Cape Town and placed me in what is known as ‘Die Gat’ (The Hole); these are’ awaiting trial’ holding cells— deep underground below the Bellville Magistrates Court building— retaining hundreds of offenders and awaiting trial prisoners from all over the Western Cape.

The holding cells are dark and dangerous. There are as many as 100 if not more, hardened criminals in each one of these cells. Many of them are repeat offenders, returning to prison for their second, third, fourth, and fifth offenses.

Of course, the first thing that happens in prison to someone like myself, a “Frans” ( person with no name, no affiliation to any gang or Number), a nobody, is you are on your own. The only way to survive in such a harsh environment is to “buy” whatever you want or need with whatever “commodity” you have.

From the dangerous prison cells of South Africa to the heart burning love of Jesus.

My transformation story

Naturally, as a white male dressed in a beautiful silk suit, fancy tie, leather shoes, and gold watch, I stood out like a sore thumb. I did not suspect that this look won’t be my grooming any longer.

That day I got attacked by a large group of gang members from the Number Gangs. They robbed me of all my belongings and beat me up; I barely had any teeth left in my mouth.

Death Hung in the Air

Eventually, the Police came and took me out of that cell and transferred me to a single cell. The smells of urine, my blood, feces, and death still hung in the air, but for now, I was alone and safe – for the moment.

As I lay on that cold cement floor, unable to separate the blood from the tears, I realized for the first time in my life that I had messed up. I wasn’t that strong corporate executive anymore who always was in control of my life. I wasn’t the person who had asked God at the tender age of 16 at the Youth Camp in Stellenbosch to come into my life and be my Lord and Savior.

I had become someone I now hated, yet I had grown to find comfort in it. I was comfortable in the power and authority I commanded because of my wealth and connections to rich and famous people. I was rotten to the core. I was a criminal, yet I didn’t know. I called myself a Christian, and I convinced myself I could accomplish life on my own. I unconsciously and unintentionally rejected God on many occasions; He wanted to help me return to that place I once called my Salvation.

Prayer Triggered Change

But on that prison floor, none of my wealth or connections held any allure anymore. I was far from the proud and respected corporate executive I claimed to be. I wasn’t the one who could source and introduce foreign businessmen, diplomats, and senior government officials from other countries to South Africa anymore. The only remaining piece of property I could still call my own was a Bible I had taken to court that day.

As I went to my knees asking God to forgive me for what I had done and for what I was contemplating doing to myself, my Bible fell open in the Book of Hebrews. As I scanned the two pages that lay open before me, my eyes fell on Hebrews 10 as I began to read from verse 34 in which it says,

“You suffered along with those in prison and joyfully accepted the confiscation of your property because you knew that you yourselves had better and lasting possessions. So, do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded.

You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.”

It was as though God had come into that cell that day and called me out by name. I felt the presence of God all around me, and as I opened my eyes, it was as though the entire cell was lit up with the glory and presence of God. As I fell to my knees in shame, asking God to forgive me all my sins, I tried to spell out every known sin I had committed toward Him and every other person I had hurt or caused pain. I asked God to help me get through this period of trials and tribulations that I knew I was going to have to face and that if He granted me His mercy and grace, I would serve Him for the rest of my life in spirit and truth as a servant of His Word.

My Real Transformation

Long story short, I got sentenced for fraud and spent seven years of my life in six of the most notorious prisons across South Africa. From Goodwood to Pollsmoor, Pollsmoor to Mdantsane in East London, then transferred to New Kimberley, Sun City (Johannesburg Central Prison), and finally ended up at Zonderwater Correctional Centre in Cullinan, where I was able to complete my Bachelor’s Degree in Systematic Theology.

I went on to become the Pastor to over 800 offenders at New Kimberley Correctional Centre and then later at Zonderwater Prison.

But my real ‘soul transformation’ began when I lay on that cold cement floor in ‘Die Gat’ (The Hole). At the bottom of the Bellville Magistrates Court after being beaten up to an inch of losing my life. Having been robbed of everything I had except my Bible, I pleaded to God for His mercy and grace.

God saved my life several times in incarceration. Still, the one incident that stands out would be the day I was standing in the courtyard in one of the most dangerous areas of Pollsmoor Prison called the ‘Awaiting Trial’ section.

Then, I’d become familiar with the heartbeat of prison life, ensuring I kept my back to the walk-in in case of any personal threat. I noticed that the Number Gangs (were hardened criminals divided into mainly three groups called the 26s, 27s, and the 28s, each more dangerous and ruthless than the other).

These Number gangs are so named for their specific function in prison. It isn’t just a “number” that represents a code of honor (if you can call it an ‘honor’ to be affiliated with a ruthless criminal organization). Still, a Code that goes back decades into our history and, strangely, the so-called “Number” from where these gangs are today affiliated doesn’t come from prison. It came from the mines when they needed to identify the miners working underground in the low-light areas.

So they would use these codes and the special language of the “Number” to identify themselves according to their working level and avoid others from knowing what they were doing. So one day, some of these men got arrested and put into prison, and there they began to use this same code of association, conduct, and language, which later became what is today known as the “Number Gangs” in prison.

Today these number gangs represent not merely a code of conduct or association, but they control the prisons throughout South Africa. For many newbies (“Franse”) that come into prison, there is no other way but to become a Number, as this is the only way to receive the protection you desperately need to survive.

Like a military regiment, they have rules, strategies, code of conduct and language, including discipline, and ranks like General, Colonel, Captain, Lieutenant, and even Judges that make sure that the “code” of the Number was respected and adhered to within the corridors of the prison.

That day I witnessed what in prison is called a ‘sabella’ (a hit taken out on someone – usually, blood must flow). It arises when anything or anyone poses a threat to the Number’s territory, position, or power. They control all the illegal trade of drugs, other contrabands, and any other trade in prison – from the bed you sleep on to the food you eat. Everything in prison carries a price.

The Unthinkable Happens

That day, as one of their members approached me from across the courtyard — a lower ranking gang member of one of the Number gangs, I was mentally and psychologically prepared to fight to the death. In a matter of seconds, the first thing that crossed my mind was if I should die today, where would I go? Heaven or hell? It was as though my life had flashed passed me in a milli-second.

I remember seeing an image of my son in front of me, but I couldn’t dare shed a tear or lose focus of where I was and the challenge staring me in the face.

I needed every element of my previous military training and martial arts experience to come immediately into effect. No fear, no second guessing, just pure raw and ruthless survival tactics. It was all about my life or this person who had the advantage of possessing a huge knife that could do some severe damage.

As I mentally braced myself to fight, the unthinkable happened at that moment. As this unnamed assassin (or appointed ‘killer’) was about to attack his prey, he turned to the man standing not far from me, and in less than a few seconds, he had stabbed this person more times than I could remember.

In a moment of absolute chaos, I decided – was I going to stand and watch a fellow human being be killed, or was I going to react? The latter decision became the story that changed my life forever in prison.

I jumped into action as though I was back in operations. I grabbed the attacker from behind, turned him around, and told him in a mixed kind of prison Afrikaans language that if he wanted to kill someone or had to kill someone today, here I was; I was willing to give my life in place of this unknown stranger.

The shock of a white man (“a Frans”) who was willing to step into the battlefield of a gang war to save the life of a black man was unexpected and shocking to the “attacker.”

He dropped his knife and walked away. To cut a long story short, I picked the stranger up from the floor. He was bleeding profusely from his stomach, and I ran with him to the courtyard gate, where the wardens came and took him to the hospital. Without knowing it, I had saved the life of a high-ranking member of the 28s.

That night in our prison cell, I was called by the high-ranking members of the Number gangs to give an account for my actions. They wanted to know who I was and why I had saved that man’s life. I told them I was “a Frans” – a nobody but that I could not stand and watch a man being killed in front of me, irrespective of his gang affiliation, race, or greed.

By the end of that night, I was pardoned by the Number gangs and given what is known as a bulletproof vest – that meant for my time, at least in Pollsmoor, I would be protected, and I would be given certain privileges that were unbecoming to a Frans in prison.

To this day, I am convinced that God had supernaturally stepped into that dark and evil world and saved my life from certain death. That was how I survived 6 of the most notorious prisons in this country.

That story jumped, as they say, over the walls, from prison to prison, and followed me as a witness to what I was willing to do to help a fellow inmate irrespective of our indifferences.

After leaving Pollsmoor and being transferred to Mdantsane Prison in the Eastern Cape, I went through the harsh reality of being a prisoner. The conditions in prison are naturally not easy. I quickly learned to adapt to my violent and inhumane environment. If I wanted to survive, I would need to use every element of my intellectual capacity to find favor in helping my fellow inmates with their parole submissions, appeals, written motions, and various other applications.

I didn’t know or understand it then. But, my justifiable suffering, pain, and isolation were indeed a means God used to help me. He used it to rebuild my moral foundation, strengthen my knowledge of God’s Word, equips me in the understanding of obedience, surrender, compassion, commitment, and empathy to my fellow man, and above all, to an understanding of who God really was and what it truly meant to be a committed and obedient child of God.

The Honour Program

After my sentencing, I requested a transfer to Gauteng, the region where my grandparents took care of my son. Unfortunately, the authorities got it wrong and sent me as the first intake to the most modern prison facility in South Africa. Sadly, my stay there was short-lived.

Finally, I was transferred to Zonderwater Correctional Centre, where I started taking on the more serious task of rehabilitation and began studying toward my Bachelor’s Degree in Systematic Theology. I also became a teacher in the prison school, helping fellow inmates learn to read and write.

One night God planted in my spirit the words’ Honor Program.’ Finally, it all started making perfect sense. Why was there so much discrimination, corruption, gender-based violence, abuse, hatred, and anger in this country?

We have tried to solve many issues with our youth, schools, universities, and communities in our strength, excluding God’s divine intervention. It took me over seven years to write The Honor Program, but in principle, it is an advanced restorative justice intervention that addresses the process of rehabilitation through soul transformation.

After leaving prison, I knew that the process of re-integration wasn’t going to be easy for me as a white, middle-aged man who did not have a solid support structure or family and friends that would be willing to stand by me and help me get back on my feet and offer me a second chance in life. I realized my only way out was to trust God completely. Keep my eyes focused on Jesus no matter what pain or suffering I would endure.

If there is one thing that I have come to learn since my release from prison, that is that we cannot go through life as islands unto ourselves; we need people to help other people who are maybe suffering and desperate to get back on their feet.

I, therefore, have many people to thank besides God for saving my life after leaving prison, as I have on many occasions wanted to give up. Still, God has always made sure to bring someone across my path that was willing and able to help me see that there is always HOPE, no matter how complicated or difficult the challenge might be.

It’s never easy when you do not have a home or depend on others for shelter, transport, food, clothes, etc.

I appreciate the opportunity I received to work as an Evangelist at African Enterprise for a few years. Unfortunately, the short-term contract ended at the end of 2020. African Enterprise is a ‘non-profit’ Christian Evangelical Missionary organization based in the heart of Pietermaritzburg, Kwa-Zulu Natal

God has transformed my soul. He is my Rock and my Salvation, in Him I will trust till my dying day.

God bless you for reading my story. I sincerely hope and pray that if my testimony touched you, you would pass it on to someone you know who might benefit from hearing this message.

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The Bible says in Revelation 12: 10-12, “And I heard a loud voice in heaven saying: “Now have come the Salvation and the power and the kingdom of our God, and the authority of His Christ. For the accuser of our brothers has been thrown down—he who accuses them day and night before our God. 11 They have conquered him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony. And they did not love their lives so as to shy away from death.

Therefore rejoice, O heavens, and you who dwell in them! But woe to the earth and the sea; with great fury the devil has come down to you, knowing he has only a short time.”

If God has done something to change your life or save you from eternal death, I would encourage you, my friend, to step out in faith and share that message with others. This is the one way we can be sure to draw unbelievers to Christ.

Also, if the Lord lays it in your heart, consider partnering with me in spreading the Good News of Jesus Christ to children and offenders in schools, universities, and prisons throughout South Africa. Please feel free to WhatsApp me at +27 71 018 0768 or email me at michaelgobel14@gmail.com

In God’s service,
Ps Michael Gobel

Suppose you have not made Jesus your Lord and Savior. Do not delay any more. What shall it profit you if you gain the whole world and lose your soul in Hell? Mark 8:36. Come to the loving arms of Jesus Christ. repent of your sins and receive His forgiveness.

Please say this prayer if have not made Jesus your Lord from the depth of your heart.

Lord, Jesus. I believe you are the son of God. I believe you died and rose again for my sins. You alone can save me. I am very sorry for my sins. I repent of my sins by your grace. Please forgive me and come into my life. Be my Lord and Savior. Help me to grow and know you more. Thank you for saving me.

Now, work toward your confession and find a bible believing church. Commit by reading the bible daily and hearing the word with other believers.

I trust that through my testimony and the reading of His Word, you will come to know and understand that no matter what you’ve done in life or whatever difficulty you might find yourself in right now, God is our Provider, Comforter, and Savior for those who wish to call upon His Name.

In closing, if you feel led to help my ministry or in any way possible to get me back on my feet so that I might be in a position to introduce my program and teachings to more children in schools and offenders in prison, then please consider sending me a WhatsApp message to: +27 71 018 0768 or if you would like to send me an email to michaelgobel14@gmail.com

I would love to hear from you and would be honored if you would consider becoming a global supporter of my ministry Planting Hope Ministries.

How God Saved Me

God richly bless you!

— Story from Pastor Gobel, South Africa.

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My Life – Threatening Journey of 18 Days Contd.

by Amaka | Mar 16, 2022 | Healings, Inspirations, True Life Stories

You know the saying that you don’t know what you have until it is missing? Well, I then knew that I had a fantastic marriage. Regretfully, I started recalling the trivial things that I’d previously gotten angry over. Like hubby playing video games. If only my husband were here playing video games. I reminisced about my husband’s relentless encouragement. He would often say, Write new songs, practice your guitar, practice your singing, get better. Now, I tried to do those things, but he wasn’t here to see me.

Despite all, Lola wouldn’t give up on me. She called me every day for 18 days straight. Every midnight she would call me, and we would pray for hours, each time persuading me to actively participate. My brother-in-law also came through for me. I was stymied from visiting my husband at the hospital, but my brother-in-law occasionally visited. Once, he put through an audio call where we got the whole family to speak with hubby. And when it got to my turn, I started singing. Slowly and gradually, my husband started to move. He wiggled his toes and finally opened his eyes. The nurse rushed in to check if everything was fine. She stood in amazement. she said, “Do you know how many drugs we have used to sedate him?” She wasn’t expecting him to wake up quite yet. We have used three (3) different sedatives to knock him out, the nurse pointed out. “If he is responding this well, maybe in two or three days he’ll be out of here”. And with that slender glimmer of hope, my heart was strengthened.

I hear a different story. Only two days later, the hospital notified me that my husband had gotten worse. I don’t get it. “Are you people conducting an experiment with my husband?” I raged. There is a different thing attacking the lungs, the doctor answered. It’s bacteria; He’s having pneumonia. I wondered what they were doing there at the hospital. How can we bring a patient to the hospital, and he’s getting worse? This is nonsense! “I hollered at my brother-in-law in frustration. I was upset.

The next time the doctor called me, I demanded to know what they were doing to my husband. Oh, we ran a test, the doctor replied. “He has a strong cough, which is good, but it is not good for the machine. He is fighting the machine, so he needs to relax”. “Give me the names of the drugs” I insisted as if I knew all about drugs. “I got the names and began researching drugs used on COVID patients.

The hospitals were swamped. On Saturday when my brother-in-law went to visit hubby at Peter Lougheed hospital, the previous one-to-one 1:1 patient/ nurse arrangement had suddenly turned to one nurse to three patients. Next, I hear that they’ve moved my husband to Foothills, the hospital that I initially wanted him taken to. But no one informed me before they moved him. Upon that, they wouldn’t let me see my husband, and it is one week now.

At Foothills, the nurse called me as the next of kin with surprise news. She told me they had iPads that patients could use to talk to relatives. I still couldn’t visit – except it was the end of life. I was elated. I was overjoyed to see my husband ‘virtually’ for the first time after a time that seemed like forever. My husband could barely keep his eyes open when I saw him. He heard my voice and opened it before shutting them again. ‘’ His lips were as dry as the desert. However, the nurse assured me she’ll take care of him here. I spoke and sang to him for about 30 mins to 1 hour. With the many requests from family, in the following days, we set up a video call with our extended family from Canada, the US, and Nigeria. We all saw him, oh what a heartwarming time!

I received a new report on Tuesday: He might have caught a bug. My husband’s eyes were entirely red-shot. ‘’What is this, how did this happen?” I questioned. The Nurse wasn’t sure. The nurse thought it might have to do with the move. “I need to speak to a doctor” I demanded. I just want to let you know your husband is doing well. The doctor tried to console me. But the nurse just told me otherwise. “What is happening there?” I fumed. Oh no, he said, “Looking at it from all his charts, I am telling you he is doing well. We are looking for ways to get him out of Coma. “I need to know the truth, is he doing better or worse?”. My heart was begging for answers.

That evening the nurse called me back. Possibly scolded for giving me that information, he said the test came back. My husband did not catch any bug and he’s even virus-free. “You mean, no more COVID virus?” Yeah! Hallelujah! I screamed in excitement. “Can you make an exemption for me to visit now?” I inquired excitedly. Since my quarantine would end the next day, the nurse said I could come that day. I took that invitation with a grain of salt. I reasoned, why were they suddenly asking me to come? Perhaps it was the end of my husband’s life, and this may be a trick to lure me in to see him. I was afraid. The doctor called me the following day, reiterating their exception for me to come to visit. Now, aghast, I wondered If I could get myself to visit the hospital. I eventually summoned the courage to go see my husband that fateful Wednesday. I walked past a room – covered with a transparent curtain- and I couldn’t even recognize my husband’s frame. He was semi-conscious with very many tubes, and wires connected all around him.

When I asked to speak to a doctor that Wednesday, I got to speak with a resident doctor since most doctors had left for the day. I asked about the condition of hubby’s health and if there were any hopes of us leaving soon. The resident doctor said that many patients get to stay in the hospital for three (3) months “What three months?” I lashed out. I rejected that prophecy. At the hospital that Wednesday evening, however, I was asked to come the next morning if I wanted to see the head doctor. Meanwhile, I and Lola had been praying that my husband would come out, as in, walk out the door by his birthday, Friday just 2 days away. Lola would ask me to point to the door. We prayed that the Lord would order his angels to get him out of the hospital. We said you will walk through this door; you will come back for your birthday.

Thursday was the last day the head doctor watching over my husband since arriving at Foothills would be around, so that would be the last chance to see him. My request was “Please Lord, bring him out of COVID. Eventually, they opened visitation to me from 9 am to 9 pm. Another friend reminded me that there was Wi-Fi at the hospital, and I could work from there since I was working from home. I jumped at that idea. Then there’ll be no excuse not to visit. I packed my things and left for the hospital. About shortly past 9 am that Thursday morning I was at the hospital, waiting for the doctor to do his rounds. The rounds were delayed. Finally, at 12:00 noon I got to talk to the Doctor.

Yet another conflicting report. This time the respiratory therapist informed me that they needed to take my husband off the ventilator, however, the doctor tells me something different. I felt lied to, so I called my friend in Nigeria. I complained, the doctor says this, and the nurse says this, whose report should I believe?” We shall believe the report of the Lord”. My friend thundered. “His report says your husband is healed; His report says he is well.” Before the doctor came in that day, the respiratory therapist said they tried lowering the ventilator support for my husband, but then he started to cough. I begged the respiratory therapist to test my husband again, “I’m sure, he will do well”. Well, immediately after the first test, the nurse insisted they change his position.’’ The moment they changed his position, my husband reacted. His BP started rising and thus they halted the test.

During the rounds later that afternoon, the respiratory therapist reported that they tried to do the test this morning, but he didn’t do well. The doctor said it wasn’t ethical to keep his mouth open for more than 12 days. Seeing that my husband had passed that mark, they planned to do surgery (incision to his throat) the next day. ‘’ Tomorrow is his birthday! It is not the day to cut anybody’s throat’’ I lamented. Then the doctor remarked that I ought to be grateful my husband was still alive as many had died in this situation.

On my way to the hospital Friday the next day, I called the nurse to inform her that I was on my way. She replied, “Just come, nothing is happening for Him today “. In my mind, I said it is a lie. That morning, on Cover2Cover we read of the children of Israel, finally leaving Egypt and I felt that was a sign. Today is his birthday. Something will happen. Surprisingly that Friday on his birthday, a new doctor arrived. This doctor, Dr. Chip was sent from heaven. The doctor empathized, “What can a hospital give to a man on his birthday? Let us try to bring him out of the coma”. There were some hesitations with the new respiratory therapist. However, she later obliged. Anyway, long story short. They planned to do one test. And if he breathes by himself in the three (3) hour test period without any help from the ventilator, they’ll take him out of the coma. Then I asked the respiratory therapist, “What are you looking out for?” “His oxygen needs to be at 96 /94 without the support of the machine.” Right away, this became our new prayer point

Instantly, I sent out words to friends to please pray for my husband ‘’ They are running a test. Please pray, so that they can bring him out today”. In that whirlwind of medical activities, I paced to my husband and held his hands. I whispered to him saying, “You have to relax. Breathe and pass this test, so we can go home. Ok?” He nodded—he could communicate by nodding, blinking, or wiggling his toes.

Meanwhile that day, I asked my husband if we should release or pause the song we had previously planned to release on his birthday— I could only ask yes/no questions. The song was a thanksgiving song ‘Exceeding Grace’, I personally thought we should wait until everything was ok. He gestured that we should carry on with releasing the song. “How will we be praising and singing to God when we were still in the middle of this storm?” It didn’t add up. Anyway, by faith, we released the song.

I thank God for the new doctor. He did a great job defending us. I kept watching my husband’s oxygen during the test. After about two hours, I heard the respiratory therapist speaking with the doctor, outside. Saying, he is not doing well. The doctor told her don’t worry. Go ahead and do it. At worst, you will put him back into a coma. Then she complained again saying, it’s usually hard to put a patient back into a coma. “How did you put him in a coma at first? Did he give a problem when he was out at first?” The doctor asked. She now said no. He didn’t really give many problems. I wondered, “Why are they saying the numbers aren’t good? The number seemed fine to me. He was breathing at the 96 mark the respiratory therapist mentioned. It was then that the nurse revealed to me that there were other numbers being looked at. They looked at how deep of a breath, and how long he was breathing. With the doctor’s order to go ahead, they proceeded to take him out of the coma. At that same instant, a pastor, Rev. Chris Delvan from Kaduna State in Nigeria called my phone.

‘’I heard your husband is at the hospital, is he there with you? ‘’ I answered yes. He ordered me to hold his hands. He began to pray. He prayed, declaring that every chain of darkness is taken off him now. Almost at the same time, right before my eyes, all the cords, and tubes that had been wound all over his neck and body were being removed. The pastor continued” We lose everything off his body. They were now removing the gigantic balloons that they had put in his throat. Everything! Ah, it was like deliverance! The respiratory therapist then asked, can you open your eyes? He opened his eyes. Can you say something? In fact, before the completion of the sentence. He screamed “Aaaahhhh”. she asked can you talk to us; He said in a croaky and hoarse voice “Hello”. But that voice was music to my ears. The most beautiful thing I had heard. Before we knew it, my husband’s phone started ringing. Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday. The breathing continued. By the grace of God, he could sustain himself without the ventilator. Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Praise … the Lord! Hallelujah.

True to Genesis 50:20: “As for you, what you intended against me for evil, God intended for good, in order to accomplish a day like this…to preserve the lives of many people.” To God be all the glory! Oh, what a merciful God we serve!

Man is prone to error, but God does not make mistakes; he will hold fast to His promises. Let’s search them out and use them as keys of the Kingdom of Heaven to petition for the miracles Christ wants to give you and receive them with Thankfulness!

Here are Some of My Takeaways.

Takeaway #1 Praise works wonders

Takeaway #2: Carefully choose your inner circle who can pray with you through a storm

Takeaway #3: God is real, His miracles are real, and His love and mercy are most real!

Takeaway #4: Even though he was still in a coma, my husband said let us praise God. Even though we had not seen everything we wanted, he said let us praise God. That is faith

Takeaway #5: Don’t station your faith in God based on the pain and distress of the moment, anchor your faith on the unchanging, inerrant word of God. And locate people who will remind you when you’re swamped in your troubles.

Takeaway #6: Choosing to continue doing what God instructs us even when it bites is proof of our faith in God.

Indeed, I will exalt you, Lord, for you lifted me out of the depths and did not let my enemies gloat over me. Lord my God, I called to you for help, and you healed me.

 You, Lord, brought me up from the realm of the dead; you spared me from going down to the pit. Sing the praises of the Lord, you, his faithful people; praise his holy name.
For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. (Psalm 30:1-5)
Hallelujah!!
Related articlesPraying and Fasting for a Breakthrough : How I Got My Job After a Long Wait
The Incredible Power of Specific Prayers; How God Provided Money to Pay our Debt

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My Life – Threatening Journey of 18 Days

by Amaka | Mar 16, 2022 | Healings, Inspirations, True Life Stories

It all started in January 2020, right after the cheer of Christmas and the new year. That cold winter day in January, my husband, a loving, decorous, and otherwise healthy husband left for work. The day was like other days. The only difference was that they announced in his office that day, that someone was sick and so everyone including my husband, had to take a COVID test. Two (2) days later, the result came out and my husband broke the unexpected news to me that he tested positive. I paused in shock for a moment. “But you are very healthy and there’s nothing wrong with you” I protested. “How can that be?” I asked incredulously. I assured myself that the hospital must have mixed up the results. I didn’t like the sound of this, but it wasn’t something we couldn’t handle. Maybe my husband was just asymptomatic.

In the days that would follow, my husband started showing flu-like symptoms. Since it was just like the flu, I began giving him juice from the native concoctions of ginger, lemon, garlic, and all sorts. Then, almost like the attack of an armed band, my husband’s health took a severe hit —He got weak, incessantly coughing, and had lots of hiccups interrupting his speech. He started talking like actors in the movies when on their deathbed.

About, two (2) weeks before my husband went for the COVID test; precisely on January 2nd, 2020, the Lord laid in my heart to go through the Bible in a year on YouTube. We call it Cover2Cover. During the study of the Bible character – Job, I had a vivid dream about an evil eye that set out to attack me so that what happened to Job—he lost his possessions—would happen to me. As a result, I planned to make Cover2Cover private but was dissuaded by my husband. “This is God’s work” he interjected, “It needs to go to the ends of the World”. About 2 days after this dream I woke up in the middle of the night to a dark foreboding that my husband was in danger. It was after this dream that his office requested the mandatory test.

I tried anything and everything. While hubby’s health plummeted, I administered my husband the native mixture, and I would have him confess that he would live and not die. I was praying, screaming, crying, pleading, begging—whatever it took. One day, I rolled on the floor, pleading, ‘’Lord, heal my husband! This is not the way to treat people that serve you’’. All day, my husband would sit on the couch, looking up to the roof, and shaking. All attempts to feed or give him water failed. He would stare at me but wouldn’t seem to see me. I was clueless, confused, disoriented, and terrified. One moment he seemed aware of his surroundings, and the next he wasn’t. It got to where his favourite Kirk Franklin songs were a mere nuisance to him. His favourite psalms were no help either. My man’s health spiralled downwards with each passing moment, and I was petrified. So, I did the only next thing.

I made a panic call to our family doctor. The doctor faxed the prescription directly to the pharmacist since I had been exposed and needed to isolate. After receiving the prescription, I hurriedly dispensed two (2) tablets of codeine to my husband as prescribed. My husband slept off immediately like a sleep-deprived child. ‘’ Ah! What a relief! I announced to myself. Finally, I get to rest’’. He slept deep and long. When my husband woke up, he wasn’t only drenched in a cold sweat, but he also woke up a total stranger.

Hubby started acting strange. Next, my husband began hallucinating. He was all shaky and jittery and would fling food off my hand in my attempt to feed him. My heart sank at his cold-eyed stares at me. It frightened me seeing my husband fidgeting, wildly looking around as if he was in a strange place, with incessant painful coughing. The next day, I repeated the same dosage, thinking that he will feel better with more pills. No, the illness did not subside. Things got worse, and I couldn’t think right.

How could I tell when it was the drugs or my husband speaking? One of those days, hubby dashed into the studio —where I host my morning ‘Cover2Cover’ bible study program— like someone who’ had lost his mind. He rushed in, screaming “Help me, help me!” oh how my heart was crushed at that sight. I abruptly ended the program to attend to my beloved husband. “Can I put my head on your lap?” He cried. When I saw how terrible my husband was looking, I announced to him that I was going to call 911 and they may take him to the hospital. “Please don’t let them take me. I want to be with you” He pleaded. I wasn’t sure if it was the drug or my husband speaking. One thing I knew though was that whatever we were drinking wasn’t working.

That Saturday night was the scariest. As his wife, I made the executive decision to flout all COVID rules. The rules advised that my husband must sleep in a separate room, not share the same space as me, must not maintain physical contact with him, and required me to pass his meals off to him. It was now obvious that the more I stayed apart from my husband the worse things got. Hence, that night, I packed back into our room. My husband was restless the entire night. No sleeping posture seemed comfortable. We eventually made it through the next morning, but hubby was very weak and unable to stand. I gave him a warm bath where he soaked up the warm water for about fifteen minutes. That was when I noticed he was coughing blood!

I immediately sent the picture of the blood to our family doctor ‘’I think the dosage isn’t good for my husband,’’ I complained. This was when the doctor revealed that he prescribed 1 – 2 tablets as needed and not the 2 tablets twice daily as received from the pharmacist. This meant he could take 1 tablet in a day or 1 in two days as required. So, I have been giving my husband the wrong dosage all along. I wondered. ‘’You have given him 4 already today?’’ the doctor interrupted my thought. ‘’Yes, because the prescription I received said two tablets twice daily,’’ I retorted. ‘’ Do not give him anymore’’. The doctor blurted. After the doctor received and saw his requested cough sample — filled with blood, he asked me to quickly call the ambulance.

When the blaring siren eventually stopped outside my house, I ambled up to the door to let them in. The ambulance team, a female and a male paramedic trotted into the house. ” It is not everybody we attend to because of COVID” The female paramedic announced to me. Next, she bent over to check my husband’s pulse and oxygen level. She observed that his oxygen level was 50 whereas a normal oxygen level is about 97 and above. She summoned her colleague to pass her the oxygen tank. “Do not move sir” She instructed while inserting the oxygen tank into my husband’s nose. They let the reading increase to about 57 before they quit monitoring. “If the oxygen doesn’t go around his body, his organs will start shutting down”. The female paramedic informed me, lifting her eyes to me. I watched, quivering.

They took my husband away from me. The paramedics now informed me they would drive my husband to the hospital, and I couldn’t come along since I had been exposed. “Can you please take him to Foothill’s hospital? ‘’ I implored. “No!” the lady paramedic replied curtly, “We will take him to the nearest hospital and Foothills is not the nearest hospital, we are taking him to Peter Lougheed”. My spirit was very much against the Peter Lougheed Hospital. That I would surrender my husband to total strangers unsettled me. “Will they take care of him properly?”. I already had my preconceived notions about this pandemic. Everything was so emotional for me. However, my husband was brave. He tried to look his best and managed to walk himself to the ambulance. I painfully watched as the paramedics whisked my husband off to the hospital.

The moment they left, I cried and cried. My heart was breaking. “I hope I’ll see my husband again” I pleaded with God, “O God! What did we do? Did it have to come to this?” This shattered my heart in pieces, and I felt all alone.I couldn’t hold myself, so I defied the paramedic’s stern warning to not call until after two hours. After about an hour, I rang my husband, but there was no answer. It was a Sunday morning and since I couldn’t leave the house, I had ample time to cry. I prayed and cried my eyes out. I was devastated and troubled, so I started making calls to close friends and family members. First, I called my mum and mother-in-law in Nigeria. My mother-in-law was as calm as the smoothest waters. I kept trying to reach my husband, but all my calls met dead silence. I felt panic setting in as I wondered what was going on at the hospital. “I needed to be there”.

In that frustration and sensations of overwhelm, I called a friend, Lola, in Nigeria. Not entirely sure why I did but hmm, Lola was divinely appointed for that time. she reminded me “You are a worship minister; this is the time to do your ministry”. “Ok, start singing” Lola persuaded. But there was no song in me. I was in the pit of despair, the darkest and deepest part of it’’ I muttered up a song. A lifeless song on my lips. There was no life or heart as I sang: “Glory be to God in the highest, Amen for His mercies endureth forever Amen” Lola yelled through the phone, “Are you sitting down? Stand up! dance! praise God. Louder! I’m not hearing you!” She kept stimulating me. Lola stayed with me on the phone, praying fervently with me for an hour.

As if in answer to our heartfelt prayers, my phone rang. It was my husband. He was still at the emergency, and the network was jammed so as not to interrupt the machine readings. He had been in the emergency and was upset that no one had attended to him. At about 3 pm, the doctor called to give me updates. By the time the doctor finished speaking with me, I found myself on the floor, trembling. The doctor goes “The CT scan shows that your husband’s lungs have been severely infected. This is a critical case, and it could go either way. When it gets to this extent, people usually die. The virus has really damaged his lungs.” He continued “His lungs are not getting enough oxygen, but we will do our best. We will put him on a life support ventilator and then in a coma, and make his lungs stop breathing. Now the ventilator has its own side effects.” The doctor added. “Some people do not take it well.” My head was spinning. I was like “he cannot die, he will not die. No, not this one.” “I will update you” the doctor finished.

Right after that, I called my pastor and his wife. ‘’ Help me O” I cried, “My husband’s oxygen level is 50”. My pastor’s wife, a medical doctor, screeched. The worst she’s ever seen was 68 or 70 and then the person was in a very critical state. However, my pastor reassured me saying “Don’t worry, don’t worry! Do you have communion? Do you have bread or wine?” He continued. My pastor now started making decrees. “We have a covenant with the Lord that we will not lose anyone to COVID”. “Amen” I declared frantically. I took the communion and felt some consolation.

Sunday evening, a nurse called to inform me that they were giving my husband oxygen. They put him in a special unit to monitor his blood oxygen, and if it elevated to a reasonable level, they would move him to a normal ward. Not after an hour, another doctor called to inform me that they had put my husband in a medically induced coma. “He is on the ventilator, now on life support, prone sleeping position” “Can I speak to him before you do all this?” I asked. The doctor said no as it was an emergency.” What is the assurance that he is going to come out?” I asked. We don’t know, the doctor said. “You don’t know, and you wouldn’t let me speak to him before inducing him? What if he doesn’t come out, and you couldn’t let me speak to him?” I exclaimed as tears flooded my eyes. That night, I woke up looking for my husband beside me. I thought this was all a bad dream. I groaned painfully as I thought of being a widow at such a young age. So, my husband is in a coma! Where will I get another husband? Will a new husband love me as my husband does? Will we be able to do music together? God, save me from this horrid challenge.

Disenchanted, I tried to work and keep my mind intact but then; I had a mental vision of my husband where he gave a loud wail. I instantly fell to the ground shouting: Jesus! Jesus! Over and over. It was like my heart was being ripped out. I called my mum, stressfully contemplating stopping my Cover-to-Cover program. My mom said if you stop then the devil has won. You must keep it on. Therefore, I kept up with the program but could not share publicly what I was going through. I would cry and worship on the program and people would think I was in the spirit, but I was in despair. “This is how God rewards me for wanting to do His will?” At that point, I battered with many thoughts in my head – Is God even real? Where was God when things got out of hand? How did he allow my husband to get into Coma? And now there’s no assurance that he will come out alive. No one knows anything. It was agonizingly alarming!

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I started making plans of what I would do if my husband died: I wouldn’t pack anything, I would simply disappear; no one will see me again; neither my parents nor his family, no one! “Maybe this God isn’t even real, maybe these are mere stories. Why will this happen? Where are all God’s promises?”. I was angry with God. Even though I grew up in church and my parents are pastors, I had never felt so alone in my life. I had absolutely nothing to hold on to. Just anger. There was no rhema, no song, no revelation. I felt so much despair. Then I thought about many people who had left the faith. This Christian thing does not work because I prayed many times. And it felt like the more I prayed the worse the sickness got. My 18 Days Mental Battle Continues Here

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Hef-zibah Story — How the Pandemic First Braced and then Rocked My Life

by Amaka | Dec 8, 2021 | True Life Stories

—A Story from Hef-zibah in Calgary

Before 2020, we were productive and used to being swamped. Sounddior, our music school in Calgary was thriving. We scampered through the day and raced to the finish line of every day. Hearing children’s excited voices drifting in and out of our house delighted us. We were making music, learning songs, teaching piano and guitar lessons. We were sharing our lives, engaging our passions, and connecting with our students. What more could we ask for? Everything seemed great.

Our basement-turned-classroom became a treasured place to many of our students. It thrilled myself and my husband to serve and minister to our pupils in this area. We loved those kids; we adored them and didn’t mind giving them our best. The only problem however, was that the pressures of holding a full-time job and running our music school were relentless.

In catering to the occasional needs of our students —snacks, after lesson entertainments, pick-ups, and drop-offs and ever so often, child-minding — we unwittingly blurred the lines between business and our personal lives. It was usual for us to make countless trips, picking up and dropping off students up until late into the evenings. As the excited moments mixed with unrelenting work turned to days, and the days rolled into weeks which dovetailed into months, our bodies gradually slipped into exhaustion.

Come Covid 19.

Do we move online or not?

In April 2020, we thought to move online. However we wondered if our students would willingly adopt the move to online school. We prayed that the Lord would let us retain at least half of our students. After much musing, we concluded that the benefits of going online far outweighed the fears of any unknown. We eventually took the leap of faith and plunged online. And much to our surprise, about eighty (80%) of our clientele transitioned online with us. The good part was that those who previously couldn’t enrol at our school because of distance could finally enrol. How sweet!

Not only did the Lord sufficiently supply for us in a season of economic upheaval, mental weariness, and surging uncertainty, He also rejuvenated our minds and bodies. Where we’d been previously too tired, too fast, too drowsy, too exhausted to continue enjoying the traces of joy, health, and blessings that were right in front of us, God slowed us down. He helped us to catch our breath and then to catch an even greater sight of Him.

The year 2020 ushered us into a place of new insights and increased opportunities. That’s why this Christmas, we couldn’t help but say, “Thank you Lord! How great thou art, oh Lord! How great Thou art! We are so grateful for all you’ve done and continue to do! Thank you, Jesus!”

Now, I’d like to say that this was the end of the story. But no, this was only the drive out of the driveway. The days that would follow led us through paths we had never treaded. We clinched onto the edge of our seats desperately pleading for the ride to come to a halt. And when it did, our lives never remained the same. Kindly watch out for Part 2 of this story.

Like my friend Hef-zibah, this Christmas, let’s take some time to reflect on all our blessings. As comely as presents, gifts sharing, sumptuous food, friends, family, light and decorations are, Christmas is so much more. It’s loving and truly appreciating the one, who steps into our mess to cleanse us, forgive us and reconcile us to the father. Amidst the bustle of the season, may we find the solitude to give Him our hearts. For Proverbs 23:26 says ” My son give me your heart and let your eyes delight in my ways”. This is the reason Jesus came. And don’t forget to reach out and bless the less fortunate.

Merry Christmas to you and your family. And feel free to share with us what your blessings are in the comment below or better still share your story.

Kindly check out our previous Christmas writings.

A Christmas Spoken Word / Poetry

Why Christmas? Three Reasons and its Promises

Stay tuned for Part two (2) of Hef-zibah’s story!

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Ways God Provides Financially; Taiwo’s Amazing Story of Divine Providence

by Amaka | Jan 3, 2020 | Career, Finances

How God divinely provided during my studies

In the fall of 2016, I left Nigeria to take on a Master’s degree in International Relations at a University in Norway. I was excited and looked forward to a splendid life far different from the one I left behind. As days turned into weeks and weeks to months, however, my dreams of a colorful and brighter future were fast becoming bleak. There I was, alone in a strange land. I had no job, relatives, or friends; getting my daily meals was a toil. The thoughts of the fat debt I incurred for my travel — collecting interest by the minute— consumed me. Every step I took seemed like I was walking against the wind. Things needed to change and quickly.

Taste and See

No one told me life was going to be this hard. In despair, one day, I asked, is the bible really true? Is there any truth to its claims? Can I count on Psalm 34:8, Which says to taste and see that the Lord is good? “I need a change so badly, and I will do whatever it takes; I will make studying the bible and praying a priority daily, ” I told myself. Not long after I embarked on this adventure, I started noticing something. I noticed a change in my thought process. I was becoming aware of my thoughts and the thoughts of God about me and others. Like someone who had just learned a new language, I could now tell when God instructed me. The daily words and thoughts I heard from God helped me turn my countless worries about groceries, bills, and my debts to Him. Moreso, the more I spent time in prayers, the less I felt the need to worry. But that’s not all.

Obedience, a Test of Faith in God

The Lord brought my attention to the few teenagers at the church during my second year of studies. Sensing that the teenagers weren’t catered for, I felt the Lord wanted me to speak to my pastor about it. I hesitated at first, but when I couldn’t resist the Lord’s prompting anymore, I expressed my concerns to my pastor, who welcomed the idea. However, my pastor replied that there was no one to take on the responsibility, so he asked if I would take on the task.

Starting this group was challenging, to say the least. We had only two teenagers show up at the onset, and it didn’t make sense to organize meetings just for the two of them. I continued regardless— in the rain, sun, or snowy because I realized it was the Lord’s desire.

At about this same time, the Lord instructed me to start a weekly prayer meeting at the church. The pastor also embraced this idea, but only a handful of people were open to this, so very few attended. On many occasions, I was the only one present at the meetings —this made absolutely no sense to me— however, I knew I should not stop just yet.

I tried all in my power to be present at all the meetings —I took Fridays off to give more time to both the teenagers’ fellowship and the prayer meetings. Meanwhile, many uncertainties were piling up in my life. Here I was, approaching the end of my studies, yet I had no clue what my next steps would be. But wait, there’s more.

Read how God helped Amaka through a difficult season of life

More Weights Stacked Up

The months that would follow were stacked with even more trials. My visa expires in a few months, yet as I applied for jobs, all I received was dead quietness. I also explored all possible options by applying for Ph.D. studies in several countries. About four months to the expiration of my visa, I got an offer to do my Ph.D. in Scotland. Yeah!!! I was stunned by this offer as I didn’t feel qualified for it. Though elated by the news, somewhere inside me, I didn’t feel it was the right step for me at this point —One more request for clarity added to my many requests. But which way, Lord?

At my Wits End

Anyways, I kept on applying for jobs, but by May 2019, I became distraught by the negative replies or, should I say, the dead silence from the companies. I was at my wit’s end or so I thought, until the Lord asked me to quit my job at McDonald’s. “Quit my job, Lord. Is this you speaking?” I convinced myself I was making this up. Though this job wouldn’t renew my visa, it sufficiently settled my bills. “But I have no other source of support, Lord,” I thought. No, I did not obey, at least not that fast. My reluctance to obey came with a cost. I became sick and had such excruciating back pain from the job that I had to quit.

Now, with more time left to spare, I spent my days praying, meditating, and applying for professional jobs. I had time for church meetings — but still no job.

My Groceries were Paid for

Surprisingly, I saw astounding miracles during this time without a job. I recall one cool afternoon; I stopped by the grocery store to get some biscuits. Just as I headed out of the store, an elderly man I’d met walked up to me. He said: “The Lord asked me to pay for your groceries,” I stood there bemused. Not sure if I should cry in shock or laugh in excitement. “I don’t have much left at my house”, I thought to myself in amazement. I was quite embarrassed by his outlandish offer and almost shied away from the offer. Thankfully, he persisted. I returned home that day with a big bag full of groceries. It got to the point that my Landlord wouldn’t even ask for his monthly bills. What was happening?

My Debts Paid

Moreso, the Lord miraculously cleared my debts. I got a report a certain week from the Norwegian Tax Office that my annual tax for the previous year was short of 12000 Kr ( $1700). “What a time to owe the government!” I bemoaned. feeling downcast and forlorn. “This is too much for me to bear,” I whined. And again, I prayed to God, and He showed me what to do. His instructions were simple:

1. Write down all your debts on a list (amounting to Norwegian krone 17,000Kr – a little over $2,800 Can dollar )

2. Thank me for providing.

I did just that! I tell you, my friends, before the end of that week, the Lord instructed someone to send me exactly 17,000kr. Incredible? Exactly, I was dumbfounded! I then looked back and realized that though I wasn’t working, God sufficiently met all my needs. The Lord needed me to focus on Him, serving him and others. But now, if only all my problems would disappear.

Job Search Continues

Not at all; my quest for a job persisted. Following the disappointments from my many job rejections, I almost lost hope and thought to pursue the Ph.D. offer instead. The problem? The University didn’t release my funding. Anxiety began to swell as I mulled over the possibility of being sent back to my home country. Ever so often, as I meditate on God’s words, His promises reassure my heart with peace like one observing fresh red roses dancing on water. However, I remained clueless.

It was a crisp evening when I visited a friend who had just put to bed. “No news yet” was my response to my friend’s question about my permit and job. Out of concern, my friend referred me to her friend, who later sent me two job vacancies she found online. “How is this any different from my previous job applications?” I mumbled. Reeeluuuctaantly, I summoned some energy and courage to apply for only one of the jobs. About one week later, I received a phone call requesting an interview. “This has never happened,” I exclaimed. I was startled at the thought that I almost lost this opportunity.

Read Testimony of how Tayo got his job after a long delay

First-Ever Interview

The interview went very well. At first, the interviewers asked general questions and then inquired how I had been involved with youths. Of course, I didn’t hesitate to tell of my countless experiences working with youths. The interviewers’ countenance gave me hope as I passionately narrated my involvement with youths. I had a feeling that I impressed the interview panel. A few days after the interview, I received a call from the company’s HR department informing me that I’d been offered the job; my contract was sent shortly after that.

I realized that God instructed me to start the youth work not only because of the church or the teenagers but also for myself. God knows the end from the beginning (Isaiah 46:10), and He knew I would need to leverage that experience to get my job. Despite the hurdles, I eventually got my work permit, and I can only look forward to the glorious future the Lord has for me in this land. Praise the Lord! God is a good good Father.

As I write and think about this story, I can’t help but ask you to consider:

Are we intentionally putting in our best foot to listen to clearly hear God? Are you pressing in to hear and do God’s instructions in areas of parenting, singlehood, career, business, or finances?

Are you struggling in your health, relationships, business, or studies because you plainly are too busy to sharpen your blades?

Do you persist and continue to do the right things you know, even if it is uncomfortable?

My Final thoughts on how God divinely provides

Every challenge and hardship we face is an opportunity to engage deeper with God; It is a calling to taste and see God’s goodness (Psalm 34:8).

“Give me six hours to chop down a tree, and I will spend the first four hours sharpening the ax,” —Abraham Lincoln said. We accomplish much more quickly as we sharpen our blades through prayer, meditating on the Word, and obedience. Eccl 10:10

When the clouds are full of water, they pour rain on the earth —Diligence and persistence in following God’s instructions is the key to reaping all the blessings God has for us. Eccl 11:3.