The Goodness of God

I first met Damien King in prison. (See his story on page 26.) My church’s secretary had roped me  into  volunteering. I can’t say I was too excited about going into a prison, but I was willing to do it for her.

Damien was an inmate, assigned to assist new volunteers like me. We quickly developed a genuine friendship. Each week, I looked forward to seeing him and the other men who attended the class I taught. God filled my heart with love for these men. He filled their hearts with love for me too.

God had been faithful to me, and I had a story to prove it. But I had never before considered how that testimony could impact others.

I lost my first wife to a drunk driver in 1986. We’d been married 20 years. I was far from God at that time. I wasn’t going to church or seeking Him; I was just going through life, trying to keep our family together in my own strength. Her death was a major wake­up call for me. Being a single parent of teenage boys who’d just lost their mother wasn’t easy. We were all hurting.

In my loneliness, I remarried quickly. That relationship lasted nine months and brought pain to my boys. It would be many years and several other poor relational decisions before I’d finally realize I needed to find my security and support in Jesus Christ, not a woman. Once I began to rebuild my life on God’s love and sought His companionship above any other, He blessed me with a healthy, godly relationship. Donna and I have been married now for 14 years.

When I lost my first wife, I was very angry with both the driver and the justice system. Her killer got only 90 days behind bars due to the great lawyering skills of his attorney and his connections in high places. It wasn’t fair. I let that anger drive my emotions and actions for a long time. Only after Donna and I started dating did I choose to be thankful for God’s blessings and appreciate the time I’d had with my first wife. My grateful heart made way for God’s love to help me forgive the one responsible for my loss. And that forgiveness set me free to truly learn to live.

One day, after I shared how I’d forgiven my offender, an inmate approached me and asked, “Roger, how can you love someone like me? I’m in prison because I drove drunk and killed a lady.” He couldn’t understand how anyone, much less God, could forgive him for his actions. He was so steeped in guilt and pain. This opened the door for me to explain the unconditional love of God. I consider it a privilege to help men like him understand how valuable they are in God’s eyes.

I’m getting to be an old man, but with God’s help, I plan to keep going behind bars for a long time yet. I just can’t see settling for the rocking chair when there is so much adventure to be had with God.

Today, I have the privilege of spending time with Damien in free society. He’s like a son to me. In fact, he lives right in my backyard! I’m grateful to be a small part of his success story and am so proud of him. Every day, we marvel at the goodness of God.

Ready For More

Below are opportunities for free Christian-based resources for both English- and Spanish-speaking inmates and chaplains. Contact the addresses below; tell our partners VL referred you.

CLI Prison Alliance
PO Box 97095
Raleigh, NC 27624

• Personal discipleship studies by mail for inmates in jails and prisons; free Christian books and Bibles for libraries at request of chaplain or authorized personnel.

Rescued Not Arrested
PO Box 90606
Phoenix, AZ 85066

• Free NIV Bibles, free Bible study correspondence course, and free NIV Life Application Study Bible upon completion of study for jails and prisons.

Victorious Living
PO Box 328
Starke, FL 32091

• Personal correspondence, quarterly devotions, and subscription to VLMag for prison inmates only. Bulk copies of VLMag (bilingual edition) available for jail and prison libraries at chaplain’s request.

From the Streets to the Family of God

I met Jesus on my front porch on December 23, 2001. I was out there smoking weed, writing music, and minding my own business, when He interrupted my lyrics with a rap of His own.

I know, I know! I hear some of you protesting, “Michael, God doesn’t rap,” or even “God doesn’t speak to us that way.” But God has a history of doing incredible things to reach the lost, and on that day, He reached me.

The Bible is full of examples of God speaking in unique ways. He spoke to Moses through a burning bush (Exodus 3:1–14), to Balaam through the mouth of a donkey (Numbers 22:21–40), and to King Belshazzar through a handwritten message on the wall (Daniel 5).

In my case, He put together a unique rhyme and rhythm that grabbed my attention and captured my heart. The moment I heard those words, the brick wall around my heart began to crumble. For the first time, I understood that God was real and that He was more powerful than anything I had ever known.

But let me tell you a little about my life at that time before I go deeper into the details of that day.

For as long as I can remember, loneliness had been my constant companion. Perhaps it was because I was a biracial kid who never quite felt accepted. Maybe it was because my dad was absent from my life. Or because I was an only child to a single mom in a neighborhood of much larger families. Whatever the reasons, I was alone and vulnerable. My mother was the only person who seemed to have my back.

Mom did her best to protect me from evil and teach me right from wrong, but by the time I was 13, she’d lost me to a world of drugs and sex. At 15, I dropped out of school and moved in with a 22-year-old woman who introduced me to selling crack. I jumped right in to the business, but got myself involved in shootouts, robberies, and other criminal activities too.

Looking back, I regret the pain I put my mother through. Now, as a father of three incredible young men, I would be devastated if any of them chose the life of destruction on the streets that I did.

I thank God for meeting me that day on my porch. I was fascinated with street life and blinded by dollar signs, but He opened my eyes to a better way. He opened my eyes to life and love.

My only intention that December day was to get high and write music. A thick sense of darkness swirled around me as I sought the right words to convey my message. And then, for reasons I still don’t understand, my attention shifted from my paper and pen to the heavens.

I looked up into the sky and blurted, “You tell me! You tell me!” I repeated the phrase multiple times. It grew in intensity with each repetition. After about the seventh time, the Lord broke in with His own words.

“If I tell you that I told you,

then you still wouldn’t believe it.

I done showed you, and you seen it,

but you walk with the demons.

For all the wrong reasons. Look at the seasons,

and mysterious disasters. This life is soon after.

You need to get in church and talk to the pastor.”

I was speechless. These weren’t my words. And they weren’t just words. God’s presence and power accompanied them.

There’s a saying on the streets: “Keep it a buck,” which means, “keep it real.” That day on that porch, things got really real. In God’s presence, I clearly understood that nothing in my life was trustworthy. The streets had sold me a lie, and I had bought it.

I was 21, and for the first time, I felt the weight of my sin and the depth of my need for Jesus. I broke down and cried, asking God to save me. I knew I needed Him—I needed truth.

That prayer was the beginning of a new life, but not an easy one. The devil wasn’t going away without a fight. He immediately interjected doubts into my mind about God’s gift of salvation and my value to Him.

“You think it’s that easy?” he taunted. “You think you can just say a few words and be saved, just like that? After all you’ve done? God doesn’t want you.”

My heart broke as I received those thoughts. They made perfect sense; they must be true. I mean, why would God want someone like me? I belonged to the streets, and I had committed so many sinful acts. I jumped off the porch and walked down the street, trying to clear my mind. But those demonic voices didn’t let up. For days, they kept reminding me of my sins and loading me down with guilt and shame. I felt like I was losing my mind.

But then, my thoughts would shift back toward God and all I had heard about Him. There wasn’t much, but it was there. I remembered that God had created the world in six days and rested on the seventh. I also remembered someone saying Jesus had died for my sins. And then I recalled something about believers needing to be baptized.

I strung it all together and came up with an idea: I would get in a tub of water, ask Jesus to come into my heart, and then go under the water for seven seconds. I didn’t know what else to do.

I know now that my faith in Jesus Christ is what saved me, not my actions. But I’m sure my desperation for Him put a smile on God’s face.

I went home, got in the tub, and sincerely said, “God, I am going under this water for seven seconds. When I come up, I want to be clean of all my sins.”

I slid under the water’s surface and counted to seven. When I came up, I saw two streams of smoke rising from my waistline. My jaw dropped in awe. God physically allowed me to see the evil as it vanished from my life.

I got out of the tub, looked in the mirror, and immediately those evil voices started screaming about the absurdity of God saving a man like me. I cried out to God again, “God, I don’t know what to believe. I don’t know how to tell the difference between Your voice and the devil’s!”

God spoke clearly, “From now on when I talk with you, I will close our conversations with the words, ‘My son.’ The devil cannot call you his child because you no longer belong to him. You belong to Me.”

I thank God every day for His willingness to help me discern His voice in that crucial moment.

In the middle of this incredible encounter, someone knocked on my door. Mind you, I had not spoken to anyone about the day’s events. I went to the door and opened it, and there stood the guy who lived behind me. Word on the street was this man had sold his soul to the devil.

He looked me straight in the eye and said, “The only reason God saved you is because you live behind the devil himself, and I was going to kill you.” Then he walked off.

I was speechless, but oddly enough, I felt at peace. In the strangest of ways, this man had just confirmed for me that God had saved my soul. I really was a child of God. The man’s showing up also proved that God is more powerful than Satan. My faith was firmly established.

Moments later, God began instructing me to throw away all the drugs in my home. Just hours before this crazy scene, I was a dope boy, selling drugs. I had thousands of dollars worth of drugs in my home, ready to be sold.

I started negotiating. “God, I do want to live for You. Just let me sell this last package, and then I’ll be done with the drug game once and for all.”

“Throw it away,” He responded.

“Let me give it to my man, Jr.” I suggested. “He’ll sell it, and we can split the profits.”

“No. Throw it away.”

“How about…I give it away?” I was slick this time. There’s an unwritten street code that whoever I gave those drugs to would bring me a portion of the money.

“Throw. It. Away.”

I gave up. I walked outside, threw every ounce of drugs in the garbage can, and went back into the house.

Moments later, another knock came at the door. It was a customer. I said I didn’t hustle drugs anymore, but he just laughed. “Come on, Cream,” he said. “I just bought from you a couple hours ago. I got cash on hand!” He counted out $500 and told me to quit joking around.

I glanced at the trash can on the curb. The drugs were right there. All I had to do was walk over and pull them out. But praise God, I stayed strong, even though the buyer persisted. Finally, I told him I had just asked Jesus into my heart and wasn’t in that game anymore. His face changed; he accepted me at my word and walked off.

God had me put those drugs in the trash can on a Wednesday. My garbage service didn’t run until the next Tuesday! Every day for almost a week, I had to resist the urge to pull those drugs out and get back in the game. I had to choose to obey God. It would have been so much easier if He had told me to flush them down the toilet.

I still didn’t know much about God, but I knew I needed to get schooled quickly. I got a Bible and started reading. For the next eight months, I studied God’s Word for 10 to 12 hours a day. I couldn’t put it down. During that time, God showed me incredible things. And the more I learned about Him and His love for humanity, the more I wanted to share it with others.

I began ministering to the guys who lived on my block. God had given me a gift of music, and I used it to tell my God-story and to help others discover theirs. I recorded CDs and visited churches and housing authority neighborhoods to minister. I even hosted a local television show, spreading the Gospel.

One day, I was playing basketball with a young man from a housing authority neighborhood, and he opened up to me about not having a father. Unfortunately, his was a familiar story. He looked at me and said, “Mr. Mike, I wish you would come out here more often.”

His words touched my heart and birthed in me a desire to consistently be in the lives of young men who were trying to find their place in the world. I knew from experience the vital need for godly role models. If only I’d had someone to lead me down the path of life instead of the wicked road I’d chosen when I was his age.

I told him, “Count me in, young sir. How about I pick you up each week and take you to my Bible study?”

He was excited. His friend quickly piped up, “Can I come too?”

And that was the start of my outreach to young men in my community. It wasn’t long before I couldn’t fit all the kids who wanted to come in my car.

I continued mentoring these youth for years, around my responsibilities at home and work. God had blessed me with an amazing family and a great job—and if you’ve ever had a criminal record, you know what a blessing that is.

But I sensed God asking me to leave the security of my paycheck to mentor youth full-time. He had confirmed it in many ways, but I hadn’t yet acted. And then, the mental health facility where I was a director asked me to turn in my office key due to cutbacks.

I knew God was pushing me to finally make a move.

The next day, I was offered a position at another facility. They actually told me I could name my salary. But even though I didn’t know when or where my next paycheck would come from, I didn’t have peace about accepting the offer. Colossians 3:15 says to “let the peace of Christ rule in your heart.” The Amplified Bible (Classic Edition) says to let it “act as the umpire” of my life choices.

I turned the job down and trusted God. When I did, He immediately honored my obedience and opened doors for the outreach He had birthed in my heart. I called it “Raising Young Men” (RYM). Its mission is to display the love of Christ and to raise young men to stand above the negative influences of this world.

Through the generosity of Open Door, my home church, God provided a 15-passenger van and space where I could mentor the boys. I have to smile; God removed one key from my keychain and gave me two in its place—a key to a van and one to a building.

Since 2012, RYM has been a father to the fatherless. We teach that there is always hope when you put your life in God’s hands. I’m living proof of that. There’s no room at RYM for victim mentalities. We cling to the hope that God can, and God will.

Sure, life is tough for many in this world. It’s probably been rough for you too. But let’s not use our hardships as a crutch or a reason to do wrong or an excuse to not excel in life. God can redeem any past and open any door. And He can use anyone, regardless of what they do or don’t have. Even me…and even you!

It’s been nearly 20 years since God showed up on my porch and spoke in a language unique to me. Since then, my life has been nothing short of a miraculous testament to God’s amazing grace. He saved my wretched soul and radically changed my life.

Leaving the ways of the streets to love those on the street was the best decision I’ve ever made. That day on the porch, God welcomed me into His family and gave my life eternal purpose.

He’ll do it for anyone who dares to believe Him and respond to His invitation to know Him intimately. Romans 10:13 says, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

Everyone. That includes you.

Today is your time—right now, as you’re reading this magazine. Call on the name of Jesus. Let Him shine the light of His love into your darkness and bring you hope, peace, and purpose. God wants to be your Father and to help you navigate this world. Grab Him by the hand and get off your porch. There is a whole world waiting to experience God’s love through you.

What This World Needs

You know, my wife, Gloria, tells people how she and Mama Mildred were drawn to the love of Jesus that was displayed in my life. (You can read her story on page 16.) But they never knew the old me. Before I met Jesus, my heart was filled with hatred, especially toward people of color.

When I was a kid, my father, then a member of the Ku Klux Klan, taught me to hate black people. He had learned to hate early on, too. We were both so ignorant regarding God’s love for all people that we did and said vile things.
But over time, God revealed His great love toward us, and we each came to our own place of repentance. And once God got hold of our hearts, He also showed us that His love was for all people, not just white people.

We asked God to forgive us of our pride, hate, and prejudice. And He did. He forgave our sins and made us new creations in Christ Jesus (Ephesians 2:4–10; 2 Corinthians 5:17). It’s kind of ironic to me, how God used the people I hated to show me His love. I remember working at my uncle’s juice plant in Ft. Pierce, Florida. I was 17 and working alongside an older black man named George McNear.

One day, Mr. George overheard me asking my uncle and other family members to loan me a car for my date that evening. They all refused. Mr. George, however, let me use his brand- new car. I couldn’t believe it. I’d been taught my whole life to hate men like Mr. George. Yet, there he was, being so kind to me.

Another time, I got lye in my eye, and Mr. George was the first one there to help me. He could have let me suffer, but he chose to love the way Jesus does. I was intrigued.

God also used Scripture to reveal His unconditional love for me. I was facing 20 years to life for a car chase gone bad. While in the county stockade, I began to read the Bible. God used John 3:16 to open my eyes to the incredible sacrifice of love He’d made for me and all the world. He loved us so much He gave His only Son to die for our sin. My sin.

I read more Scriptures about God’s love, and each one I read chipped off another little piece of hatred in my hard heart, implanting instead a measure of His love. Reading the Bible also showed me a better way to live than the reckless sinful way I had chosen.

Convicted, I got down on my knees and gave my life to Jesus. Afterward, I promised to share His unfathomable love with others, even if from behind prison walls. I was so grateful that God had met me in my darkest hour and that He loved me so much.

I began an intense study of God’s Word. I meditated on it day and night and allowed it to change the way I thought.
I was released from jail after just eight-and-a-half months and didn’t have to serve prison time. With a grateful heart, I began to serve the Lord, striving to love others unconditionally. I asked God for His help, but I never expected Him to use a beautiful woman of color to teach me how to do that.

I was drawn to Gloria the moment I met her. She had the kindest heart and a smile that could light up the room. Eventually, we were married. Many people didn’t approve of our biracial marriage, and some still don’t. But God used our union and Gloria’s unconditional love to ultimately bring me and other family members—including my dad—out of racism.

Oh, the power of God’s love! It has no limits. It alone has the power to teach us to love and to forgive. Only His love can unite what years of hate have torn apart. Now more than ever, it’s what this world needs.

The Unconditional Love of Momma Mildred

I was ten years old when I decided it was time to find myself a momma who would love me. One Sunday morning, I headed out to a church just down the road from where I was living—and the Spirit of the Lord led my little feet directly to my mother-to-be.

She was the pastor’s wife, and she was beautiful. I wrote on a scrap of paper, “Will you be my mommy?” Then I placed the note in her hands. That precious saint of God read my note, reached down, and lovingly took me into her arms. She told me she would be proud to be my mother. After the service, Mildred Postell took me to her home and then went to talk with my aunt.

My aunt had recently inherited the role of caretaker from my grandmother, who had done her best to raise me. Years before, my mother had dropped me off at my grandmother’s house and made it very clear that she didn’t want anything to do with me. She referred to me as her “bastard child.” That title warped how I saw myself for decades.

My aunt gladly gave up responsibility of caring for me, and just like that, I was Momma Mildred Postell’s little girl. I finally had a family of my own, complete with a godly father and mother, a loving brother, and three amazing sisters. Every one of them welcomed me into their home and treated me like family.

Things were good until I became a teenager. Then I rebelled. It wasn’t that I doubted the Postells’ love for me—I just didn’t love myself. The rejection, abandonment, and abuse I’d experienced from my mother and other family members in those formative childhood years had led me to self-hatred and a low sense of worth.

In Matthew 22:37–39, Jesus says the greatest commandment is to “love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind” and to “love your neighbor as yourself.” But I didn’t know how to do any of that. I didn’t love myself, so how was I supposed to love others?

Frankly, I had trouble accepting the very concept of God. In my eyes, He had allowed every bit of the abuse, abandonment, and rejection I had suffered as a child. How could He say He loved me? I felt like I was His bastard child, too. If He was such a loving God, why had He let me be unloved the first ten years of my life? Why didn’t He kept me from experiencing all that pain and rejection?

With those thoughts dominating my mindset, I was headed for self-destruction. I began dancing in strip clubs, drinking, and doing heavy drugs. I sank deeper and deeper into a life of sin.

I broke Mama Mildred’s heart, but she didn’t give up on me. She continued loving me and praying that the Lord would get hold of my heart. She asked Him to convict me of my sin and bring me into true relationship with Himself. God answered her prayers, and in His time, His kindness brought me to repentance (Romans 2:4).

Before that moment, however, I went through some very dark times. In fact, I tried more than once to take my own life. My heart was just so very lonely. Even though I had a loving family, I felt I had no reason to live.

My last attempt was almost successful. I drowned in a pool. Revived, I was in a coma for a month. But Momma Mildred stood by my hospital bed and declared life to my lifeless body. “You are not going to die, child,” she said. “God has a plan for your life!” She prayed fervently for me, and the fervent prayers of that righteous woman availed much (James 5:16).

To the doctor’s surprise, I came out of the coma. It was evident that the Lord had spared my life. I began to wonder if perhaps He did love me after all. Maybe He did have a plan for my life, as Mama Mildred insisted.

I had heard about God’s love for years. I had gone to church with Mama Mildred and listened to Papa Preston preach his heart out, but I’d never let what I heard sink into my heart. I had always shut myself off from God and His love.
After the coma, however, things changed. For the first time, I allowed my heart to be open to the love of God. I no longer went to church because it was expected of me. Instead, I went to learn about the One who had saved me.

I wanted to know God for who He truly was, not for the distant deity I had always assumed He was. And I wanted to experience the good plans that Mama Mildred (and Jeremiah 29:11) had promised God had for me.

At the church, I humbled myself, asked God to forgive me of my sins, and put my faith in His Son, Jesus Christ. Faithful to His Word, God saved me. He began to heal my mind and help me love myself, so that I could love others too.

It wasn’t easy—I still struggled with relationships and self-destructive habits, but now I wanted Jesus more than I wanted the alcohol or cocaine or my life as a dancer. I wanted Him more than any of those things, and He helped me walk away from them. I also wanted to make Mama Mildred proud. As my heart and life changed, the Lord led an amazing, godly man named Bobby Tyson into my life. (Read his story on page 18.) Mama Mildred loved Bobby the moment she met him. His heart for people and His love for Jesus was undeniably evident. Bobby fed the homeless, helped sick children, and visited prisoners in their time of need. He served people the way Jesus did.

I loved Bobby’s heart too, and—believe it or not!—I asked him to marry me. We’ve been married now for 18 years. Our favorite thing to do is share the love of God with men and women who, like me, have been rejected and abandoned. You can often find us riding Bobby’s Harley into prisons to help others discover God’s love and the power of repentance.

Mama Mildred passed away a few years ago. I’m so thankful that God allowed her to see His perfect plans being fulfilled in my life before she went home to be with Him. I look forward to the day I will see her again, but in the meantime, I will continue to show the unconditional love of Jesus to everyone I meet, just like Mama Mildred showed it to me.

You’re Not Alone

I started my career as a newswriter for the morning show at a local news station. The news is negative and full of bad things—but imagine how hard it is to be the gatekeeper of the news.

I went in to work each day around 1:00 a.m. Part of my job was listening to police scanners all night, training my ears to pick up words like shooting or accident. We had to decide which stories were newsworthy. The longer I stayed, the more my fears escalated. My heart was pierced daily.

I did the only thing I could do: I built an impenetrable wall around my heart. I couldn’t let the hurt of the world touch me. But I kept my wall intact long after I left that job.

Over the years, I watched women cry over bad news in their lives—sickness, death, job loss, pain. But I wouldn’t shed a tear. I couldn’t feel their pain. I couldn’t have compassion. My heart was closed off.

Then God called me to be the women’s ministry director at my church, and He challenged me to tear down that wall. He knew I couldn’t be effective if I couldn’t feel compassion.

Slowly, brick by brick, I let the wall crumble and exposed my heart. It hasn’t been easy; this world has so much pain. In fact, it’s groaning.

As I was studying Romans 8:18–30 recently, I read the word groaning, and it took on a whole new meaning for me. In the original Greek, the word denotes a pain that stems from the knowledge that this is not how the world was meant to be. The suffering, the pain, the heartache of this world—it all feels wrong because it is wrong.

We were created for perfection, but we live in an imperfect world. Every pain we experience here reminds us that we await eternity. We eagerly hope for what God has promised us: a world with no more tears, no more pain, no more death, and no more sadness. (See Revelation 21:4.)

But in the meantime, God knew that life here wouldn’t be easy. Fortunately, He didn’t leave us to wrestle with our pain alone. He gave us a Helper, the Holy Spirit, who resides in us when we put our faith in Jesus Christ. But the Holy Spirit doesn’t just live in us, He guides, protects, examines, and even prays for us.

I love Romans 8:26. It says, “The Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.”

This verse comforts my hurting heart and reminds me that it’s okay if I don’t know what to pray. It’s okay to feel weak, unsure, and confused. God knows there will be times when I am simply overwhelmed by life.

Paul goes on in Romans 8 to say that not only does the Holy Spirit search our hearts and pray for us, but He prays for us in accordance with the will of God. We may not be perfect, but we have a Holy Spirit who perfectly prays for us. He knows exactly what we need, and He goes regularly to our heavenly Father on our behalf.

I’m so grateful that God has provided what we need for life. We don’t have to close ourselves off from others or be afraid of what lies ahead. God is with us. He is for us. And He offers the gift of His Spirit to walk each step of life with us.

Finding God Faithful when Life Falls Apart

In the dark, early hours of a June morning, I woke to my husband’s odd breathing. With my eyes closed and still half asleep, I reached over to nudge him.

“It’s just a nightmare, Hon. It’s okay.”

This wasn’t the first time his breathing had awakened me. He was a notorious snorer. Typically, a nudge from me would wake him enough to turn over and start breathing quietly again, and then we’d both fall back asleep.

But that morning, he didn’t turn over. Did seconds tick by? A minute? I’m not sure, but as I became fully awake, I realized this was not like anything I’d heard before. I jumped out of bed, flipped on the overhead light, and knew immediately something was very wrong.

“Dan! Can you hear me?” I cried out, now hovering over him in the bed. Our four-year-old had come downstairs and crawled between us somewhere during the night, per usual, but I couldn’t stop to move her now. I swabbed my finger in Dan’s mouth to see if he was choking. I asked him questions, and when he didn’t respond, I went into crisis mode.

As God would have it, our upstairs air conditioner had broken the day before, and all but two of my children were asleep outside my door in the family room. They’d heard me cry out to Dan and were now in the room with me.

“Nick, call 911.” I began to give instructions. “Seth, go get Mr. Gillmore (our fireman neighbor). Rachel, take Annalise and Matt upstairs.”

When the 911 operator answered, I quickly relayed the situation and gave our address. She said to start resuscitation. “You’re going to have to walk me through this,” I said, kicking myself for not getting updated CPR training. We moved Dan off the bed and onto the carpet. Nick held the phone on speaker while the emergency operator gave instructions. I placed my hands on Dan’s chest and began counting. Then I stopped, covered Dan’s mouth with mine, and gave two quick breaths.

As I counted chest compressions, my mind reeled, trying to make sense of what was taking place. There is no way I am giving CPR to my husband, the rock of our family, the man I just kissed goodnight a couple of hours ago! But I was.

Dan and I had met at youth group in seventh grade. He was Danny then, a tall, lanky surfer with a thick mop of khaki-colored hair. By high school, we were good friends, part of a group of guys and girls that hung out at lockers between classes, met for lunch, and spent Saturdays together at the beach.

One night, Dan brought a guest to youth group. She had white-blond hair down to her waist, and that’s when I decided I’d had enough of this friend stuff. I put out the word that if Danny Appelo asked me out, I wouldn’t say no. It worked. Within a week, we had our first date.

We dated through high school and into college. We got married our junior year of college and went on to grad school. We started our careers, bought our first house, and began our family. Dan wanted two kids; I wanted three. When it was all said and done, we had seven and were forever grateful that God had overruled both of us.

Life in a busy household of nine was full and certainly not problem free. We had marriage issues and parenting struggles, difficult financial tests, and hard seasons with his work and mine. Our life wasn’t extravagant or fancy, but its sweet and ordinary goodness was everything either of us could have wanted.

So on that dark morning in June when I found myself counting out chest compressions on the only man I’d ever dated, I told Dan we loved him. If it was the last thing he heard, if he could still hear, I wanted him to know.

Within minutes, the paramedics arrived and took over. They put Dan in the ambulance, still unconscious, and I went upstairs to see our children before following. I’ll never forget walking into the boys’ room and seeing my children huddled together, crying. Everything in me wanted to reassure them that Daddy would be okay, but as the words formed on my tongue, I realized I couldn’t promise that. And so I did the only thing I could: I prayed with them. Then I hugged them and told them I would come home.

I arrived at the ER, and knew immediately it wasn’t good. They took me back to the room where you never want to go. There, a kind ER doctor gently told me they had tried everything but had been unable to revive Dan.

I went back to see him one last time. To kiss him and memorize every feature of the face I had loved for 26 years. I slipped off his wedding band and headed home in a mix of fogged shock and gut-wrenching pain, to tell seven children their dad would never come home again.

In those moments, I realized more about what marriage is than I ever had before. Genesis 2:24 says a husband and wife “become one flesh.” We were one, all right, and part of me had been ripped away. Our hopes, dreams, arguments, make-ups, children, struggles, hurts, and life together had stitched us into one. Now, tomorrow’s plans, next week’s list, the dreams we’d held for our family—they lay shattered in a thousand irreparable pieces.

What do you do when life as you know it falls apart?

I’ve never asked God why, but I sure have asked what now. What about my youngest daughter who was four years old, who cried every day for over a year that she missed her daddy and who would have no real memories of him? What about our six-year-old, who played like any other little boy during the day but cried himself to sleep each night? How was I going to raise three tween and teen boys who needed their six-foot-three dad to help them navigate to manhood? How in the world was God going to fix eight broken hearts?

I was utterly dependent on God in every possible way. Yet as much as I hated the circumstance that had brought me there, I realized that being utterly dependent on God was the best place to be. Because God can only ever be faithful.

Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” In the months following Dan’s death, I clearly felt God’s presence around me. Prayer was no longer consigned to my morning quiet time; it was an all-day conversation.

God brought scripture I had memorized years before to my mind and applied it just when I needed it. He gave me new insights into old Bible stories that felt tailored just for me. He gave me just the right words to speak to my children. For the first time, I could feel the prayers of others for us.

A couple weeks after Dan’s memorial service, I went out for a run to work out some pent-up anxiety. To say I was overwhelmed is an understatement. I was navigating stacks of paperwork and estate work, managing the house and finances, making countless decisions, single parenting, dealing with grief, shepherding my children through theirs, and facing a scary, unknown future.

That afternoon, I stopped running and cried out to God, “I need You to lead me clearly. I need You like the Israelites needed the pillar of cloud and the pillar of fire. I know You can do this.” And in that moment, the Holy Spirit affirmed that if I stayed in the Word, He would lead me.

You’d better believe, I took Him up on it. God’s Word became my very food. Every morning, I’d get my kids started on the day and then get by myself for time in God’s Word. I’d open a new page in my journal and write at the top in all caps: This is too hard, Lord. I cannot do this.

And then I’d turn to that day’s reading. I didn’t hunt for certain verses. Dan had been reading through the Bible in a year, and I picked up that reading plan. Every day, without fail, whether I was reading in Leviticus or Habakkuk or Luke, God lifted my head. He reminded me of His character and His promises, His faithfulness to every person and in every generation.

Every morning, I took Him my grief, despair, fear, and weakness, and He gave me His comfort, strength, and enough hope to show up for my kids and that day’s tasks. It wasn’t enough for the whole week. Like the daily manna that God gave Israel in the desert, it was enough for that day. I had to go back the next day for more.

Eight years ago, I could only trust that God’s promises were true—circumstances were screaming something very different. I had to trust that God is the defender of the widow, the father to the fatherless, even though I couldn’t see it (Psalm 68:5).

Now, I can tell you story after story of God’s faithfulness. I could share how He’s provided for us practically and personally. I could relay how He’s loved us through people in our church, through neighbors and family. I could tell you how He’s guided me in decisions, given wisdom for single parenting, and sustained me in loneliness. I could tell you big things God’s done—things that have brought tears and made us stand in awe at how He works. And I could tell you details of how God’s ordained for things so personal only He and I knew them.

None of us wants the kind of hard situations that make us utterly dependent on God. But God has so much for us there. We see more of Him in hard seasons than we ever do on easy days. We realize what matters and what doesn’t, and we loosen our grip on this world and focus on the hope of heaven. We learn that, when hearts are broken open, they’re able to be reshaped by God to look more like Christ.

I’ll be honest—there are days when single parenting is overwhelming; I’m doing alone what used to be done by two. I see the gap my children have without a father and, though the pain is no longer raw, we will forever miss Dan. But I’ve also found that being utterly dependent on God is the best place to be.

I know God is faithful. It’s not whether He chooses to be faithful. No. Faithfulness is God’s very character. It’s who He is. He can be nothing else.

A Victim No More

“You have such a beautiful smile, Patricia. And I just love your outfit!”

People have often commented on my outward appearance. Over the years, however, my smile and my style have kept people from seeing the real me—the hurt, broken, and fearful person beneath the put-together facade.

My internal pain was so deep that as an adult, I legally changed my name from Patricia to Solliah. Solliah more accurately reflects my life story: it’s an acronym for She Only Looks Like It Ain’t Hurting.

People with an abusive past understand. We find creative ways to keep others from knowing the depth of our pain. We cover our unpleasant life experiences with words, appearances, personalities, and habits. I successfully hid the horrific details of my familial abuse for decades. That is, until 1994, when my adult brother decided to pursue civil and criminal charges against our father for the sexual abuse he committed upon us as children.

I was working in a New York hospital when he called and told me his plan and asked me to join him. Horrified and terrified, I refused to be a part of the suit. I didn’t want anyone in our small town to know our family’s ugly secrets. I just wanted to move on and let the past be the past. I didn’t realize that until I faced my past, I could never move on. He then told me that if I didn’t join in the suit, he would subpoena me.

His words caused my whole world to cave in, and I had a severe panic attack right there in the hallway of the hospital. Thankfully, a doctor friend found me crumpled on the floor and immediately took me to the head of the psychology department. For almost two hours, I poured out the sordid details of my life for the very first time.

I knew my childhood had been difficult, but when I discovered that this doctor left our meeting and went directly to his psychiatrist to process the incredible facts of my life, I better understood the severity of my abuse and my need for help.

It’s by God’s grace alone that I not only survived my childhood but also remained in control of my emotions and did not take revenge on those who had hurt me.

That session was the beginning of a healing process that began the moment I faced my past and acknowledged to a trusted person that I had been abused. That process has continued for 25 years, during which my counselor helped me understand that the abuse I’d suffered wasn’t my fault. Understanding that stripped away the power the abuser had over me. My past could no longer hurt or control me.

My healing continued as I learned how to process the painful emotions I had run from for so long—fear, anxiety, guilt, anger, and shame. I also learned how to overcome habits I had developed to cope with my pain. I had to learn to trust people. I had kept people at a distance my whole life, reasoning that if my father, who was supposed to be my fierce protector, would harm me, everyone else would too.

I trusted only one person—me. And that did not make for healthy relationships with God or people.

I also had to deal with the pain my own choices had created. As a teen, I had left home to escape my life situation. But being on the streets brought more abuse and more poor choices I’d have to overcome.

Finally, I had to make peace with other painful life experiences, like having a breast tumor at the age of 17 and then losing my precious mother and several other family members to cancer. In fact, not one loved one in my family had lived past the age of 50, and the fear of this generational curse hung over me for years.

I blamed God for every terrible event of my life, especially for allowing my mother to die. In my anger, I said terrible things to Him. I tried to shut Him out of my life entirely. But the more I shut Him out, the more lost I became. But God is faithful, and He continued drawing me to Himself until, eventually, I realized that through all those years, through all that pain, He had not abandoned me. Nothing could change the fact that God loved me so much that ​

He sent His Son, Jesus, to die for me, to save me from my sin (John 3:16).

No, my life wasn’t perfect. It still isn’t. I’m still working through old thought processes, habits, and painful emotions, and I’m 64 years old! It’s incredible how abusers can commit horrific crimes and then just go on with their lives, while their victims are left to serve time in an emotional prison. Truly, I feel like I’d been served a life sentence, but with God’s help, I have finally been set free.

His love has saved me for eternity, but it has also kept me standing firm despite the trials I’ve encountered here on earth. I’m a living testimony of Romans 8:35, 37: “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?… No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.”

God’s love has made me a victor, not a victim. His love took the shattered pieces of my past and wove them together into the masterpiece He calls my life.

But know this: when I trusted my life to Jesus, trials didn’t suddenly disappear. I just had more confidence to face them because this time around, I knew I wasn’t doing it alone.

God has brought me through countless life-threatening moments. There are so many reasons that I should be dead or mentally ill, but I’m not. God’s love and His mighty hand of protection have continually been on my life, even when it didn’t look like it.

For example, in 2012, I was diagnosed with stage 3c ovarian cancer. With my family history, this should have brought me to my knees in fear, but it didn’t. When my doctor told me I had cancer, I refused to think about what that might mean.

Instead, I focused on what has always been—God’s faithfulness.

I knew He would be with me, and if for some reason He didn’t choose to heal me this side of heaven, then I would be with Him. I would still have the victory because this earth isn’t where I belong anyway. Heaven is my home! (See Hebrews 13:14.)

So I gave that cancer diagnosis to God, told my doctor and my husband to get their faith on, and faced what had to be faced. Cancer treatments weren’t easy, but God saw me through every battle. And today, I am still standing, freer than ever!

Through that trial, God delivered me from the fear of closed places. I’d had severe claustrophobia from childhood, due to being locked in closets and even ovens as a form of sadistic torture. In my strength, there was no way I could enter those enclosed diagnostic machines. But instead of running from them, I faced them with God. I told Him about my fear and asked Him to go into those closed spaces with me, and He did. God made a way for me to do what I couldn’t do on my own.

The doctor had given me little hope to survive my diagnosis, but God did the impossible. He healed me. Today, at age 64, I am whole and healthy, and I am more sure and determined than ever that there is nothing in this life that can keep me down, because God is on my side. And if He is for me, who can be against me? According to Romans 8:31, absolutely no one.

Today, my head is lifted high. I smile broadly and still dress to the hilt—but it’s no longer to hide my pain or divert attention. It’s to share the joy I have within me. I want people to know there is hope! With God, anyone, including you, can overcome what has been and endure whatever may yet come (Philippians 4:13).

Put your life in God’s hands, and as He did for me, He will transform your victimized life to a victorious one. Let my life be proof that with God, nothing—and no one—can keep you down.

Fear Not: God Is with You

It was the beginning of the coronavirus  pandemic scare. We hadn’t even heard the term “COVID-19” yet. I was at the grocery store and noticed a young mother with a cartload of Lysol spray trying to contain her very active son. She grew mortified as he touched everything from the movie dispenser to the lottery machine.

“Stop touching everything!” she pleaded. “Get over here. Now!”

“But Momma.” He smiled engagingly. “I’m touching it with my elbows!” And with those words, he went into high gear, elbow bumping everything in sight while holding two Clorox wipes in his hands. It was the cutest thing I’d ever seen—until I realized how terrified his mother actually was because of the virus. As a mother, I could empathize with her. I asked the Lord to give her peace, and then I remembered a verse that I thought might encourage her.

It took a minute, but I finally got up the courage to approach her cart. “Excuse me, ma’am,” I said. “I can’t imagine how frightening it must be right now, trying to protect your son from germs. I also have children, and it’s scary. But I sense the Lord wanting to remind us that He is going to protect our children and us during these uncertain times.”

I started to share the verse on my heart, “God says to ‘Fear not—’” But before I could finish it, her little boy blurted out with conviction, “For. I. Am. With. You!”

His mother and I looked at each other in shock. “That’s his Bible verse for the week,” she explained.

This scene really encouraged me. I mean, what were the odds of that little boy blurting out the exact verse God gave me to share with his mother? I love God moments like this!

At the time, I had no idea how devastating COVID-19 would be to the entire world, or how it would impact my own life. With each darkening day, Isaiah 41:10 has remained a rock for me. It has kept me from being swayed by fear and all the “what if” scenarios my mind likes to imagine.

The rest of this verse tells us why we don’t have to be afraid. “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.”

Fear not. This isn’t a suggestion; it’s a command. That doesn’t mean we will never feel the emotion of fear. Fear will try to find a way to creep into our hearts and minds, but it doesn’t have to control us. That’s why God says, “Don’t be dismayed,” which means, don’t yield to fear or lose courage as you face tough times. Instead, we can put fear in its place by remembering that God is with us in every situation. And nothing is a match for Him!

Maybe today, you don’t feel like you have any courage or strength to face your current battle. Don’t worry, God does. Trust His presence in your life and refuse to let fear control you. He will help you and uphold you with His righteous right hand. (See Isaiah 40:28–31.)

So fear not. God. Is. With. You.

My Timing vs. God’s Timing

A year ago, I had a plan.

I knew exactly how the next five years of my life would play out. I would graduate from college, work at my alma mater for three years, save up some money, and move on to a grad program somewhere out west that, hopefully, I could afford.

I applied for the job. I knew exactly how I would interact in my new position, how I would dress, how I would decorate, even how I would reorganize. I had so many ideas for a position that I, shamefully, thought I had in the bag.

But I didn’t.

I was devastated. So many people had told me they were sure I’d get the job, that I’d already committed to staying in the area for a year. Now I had limited funds, no job, and no motivation.

Disappointed and discouraged, I took a part-time seasonal position at Kohl’s Department Store. It was not what I’d imagined doing right out of college.

I was living about 12 hours away from my parents. I’d been away from home for six years, and it was getting harder to say goodbye with each visit. A bad day at work and my mom’s unexpected stay in the hospital brought me to a decision.

I started looking. I narrowed my search to two cities, both about two hours from home: Cleveland and Pittsburgh. I focused more on Cleveland at first. I searched job sites, applied for any position that looked interesting, and waited.

Nothing. My lease ended in July. It was only May. I had plenty of time.

I had a plan…I would have a job, an apartment, and opportunities already waiting for me by August 1.

By the end of May, I’d heard several things from Pittsburgh but nothing from Cleveland—not even an automatic “thank you for applying” email. So I focused on Pittsburgh. Finally, in early July, I flew up for two different in-person interviews. I was excited.

I returned completely unsatisfied. Neither position was what had been advertised. While talking to my mom about how frustrated I was, I found a listing for a position with Carnegie Mellon University. Just for giggles, I applied.

The next night, I received an email asking for a phone interview. I was shocked. I honestly had not expected anything except maybe a nice automated email saying, “Thanks, but no thanks.”

I bombed the interview. I’d never realized I was a nervous laugher until that very awkward phone call. I spent the next two weeks dreading the “we met you, and you weirded us out” email…but it never came.

I was packing up my tiny studio apartment, my cat, and my memories, and moving—you guessed it—back home. I was so discouraged because nothing was going according to my plan.

On my last day at Kohl’s, I picked up a call from a Pittsburgh number. To my jumping enthusiasm, it was CMU, requesting an in-person interview.

A timeline for you: I moved home August 1, interviewed August 2, got a call the same day saying I was their preferred candidate, was formally offered the position August 8, signed the papers August 9, and started work August 12.

Life was suddenly a whirlwind. I had a new job in a new city…but nowhere to live. I couch-surfed for two frustrating months and started to doubt again.

Proverbs 19:21 states, “Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.” In His perfect time, He provided me with a beautiful, safe, and affordable home.

Looking back, I know I would have been miserable in my plan. Stuck in a position that had no opportunity for growth, working with people who wouldn’t have challenged me the way I needed to be challenged. Staying way too comfortable.

God’s timing will always be better than mine. His plans will always be better than mine. He made me wait to stretch me; He let me be uncomfortable so I’d learn to trust Him. I’ve learned that He has perfect plans for me, and every disappointment is a preparation for the better thing He has in store.