For anyone who has read my testimonial writings, you know how much of an impact the death of my grandparents had on me.
As far back as I can remember, I watched my grandparents yield their lives to God by serving on mission fields and in churches all across the United States. I grew up hearing about camp meetings, revivals, and spirit-filled hours of prayer.
And I was invited to join even as a little girl of four or five. I sat with Memaw eating a snack and drinking grape soda on a Sunday afternoon as we traveled from one church to the next. I told Papaw I was tired and that it was “too much church.” My grandparents used to laugh and tell me that story often as I got older. And I continued to join them. I was there on the Indian reservation in New Mexico as a 9-year-old girl helping sing at camp meetings, eating mutton stew, and listening to my grandfather preach.
In August of 2018 when I got the news that my grandfather would probably only live a few more days, I almost didn’t make the trip from North Carolina to Alabama. But somehow, my sister and I both were able to make arrangements at home and drive down. I had no idea how much this trip would impact me.
And now as I try to explain what God did in my life during the death of my grandfather, I feel like Moses must have felt if he had ever tried explaining the burning bush experience. It just sounds crazy.
There was an uncanny burning in my heart to quote scriptures beside my grandfather’s bed. And while this feeling was burning up inside me, Papaw called my name, “Amy,” repeatedly. It was like Papaw was giving me an invitation to obey what God was putting on my heart. I didn’t understand what was happening. I just quoted the scriptures that were burning for it felt I’d surely combust if I didn’t. The very last scripture was:
1 Corinthians 15:55 O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?
I said those words standing next to my dying grandfather. Powerful, truthful words that strip death of any claim to victory. And then the burning stopped. And Papaw called my name no longer.
That was about 2 and a half years ago, and that last scripture has followed us into our adoption story. I will circle back and explain how in a later post.
But the reason I’m telling you all this is to share how God pays attention to our pain. Times of sorrow and grief do not go unnoticed by Him. In fact, it’s often in those times of grief when God is so close that His presence changes us. I saw Miracles during my grandfather’s death. There were so many unexplainable things that happened. The burning and my name being called. Papaw talking to people and about things that only exist in Heaven. The preacher praying about Elijah’s mantle. Papaw’s Bible having been personalized just for me. All these were Miracles orchestrated by God.
And as I try to explain all this, I think back again to Old Testament miracles. A sea parting so God’s people could escape. A hand appearing to write on a wall. A voice calling “Samuel” in the night. A donkey talking. They all sound crazy. But the most important part really isn’t the miracle at all. It’s the response. What will you do with this thing you cannot explain? There is always a call to belief or action with Miracles.
You see, it was my response to those Miracles that changed me. And it was those changes that allowed me to hear and respond to God’s call to adoption when He spoke a year later saying, “I have prepared you for this. Walk with me.”
That Old Testament miracle working God is the same God we have today. He wants to do miraculous things in your life. Watch for Him. Pray for awareness of His presence. And when things start getting ridiculous, hang on.
My next post will tell you how God connected these Miracles with our adoption story.
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