Faith of a Child

 

mily and I visited the Forerunner School of Ministry prior to submitting our applications for acceptance in order to be surer that God wanted us there specifically. We had prophecy spoken over us at the International House of Prayer in hopes to confirm that our own hearts were in the right place and that we were not merely crazy. Of course, seeing as they possessed the same disposition regarding God’s power as we had, it made as much sense as entering an insane asylum and asking the residents to provide us with a clean bill of mental health. The majority of people believed we were crazy, but of course the majority had to be wrong so we merely needed to find the few who trusted God enough to say we were not crazy. Our faith ultimately had a built-in confirmation bias.

             As we walked into the prophecy room, we saw four people sitting against a wall with a single tape recorder. We sat down across from them as they explained how they would each take turns prophesying over us and recording it onto the cassette tape which we could then take home with us. They each spoke with an over-emphasized soft voice as if connecting to some spiritual realm of soft and cuddly pixie kittens. They assured us that God was pleased with our faith and that we were very strong. One person said that God calls me a friend in the most meaningful way one could call another person a friend. Another related me to Gideon, a mighty warrior loved by God. And yet another told Emily that she could see in her future where she would be holding dead babies in her arms but being consoled knowing that God held their spirits. It all seemed on the up and up since we both knew that we had a strong faith, that God loved us especially, and that we might very well end up as missionaries holding dead babies. Undoubtedly, God spoke through these prophets.

             We also attended a healing seminar which professed to teach the healing powers of God. One might think that if God were doing the healing then no instruction would be necessary, but for some reason that fact is seemingly lost on people like me who are intent on seeking the power of God and yet continually failing to find it. In the class, the instructors reminded us that we needed faith. God can only move as our faith allows. If we have small faith, we can start with small healings and with big faith we can see big healings. In short, any failures to heal could easily be perceived as our own lack of faith, and the more bias we held, the more we could attribute coincidences and placebos to the power of God. God can do no wrong or else we could do no right.

I looked forward to this seminar with great anticipation hoping for my own miraculous healing of a condition of pilonidal cysts. This is not a particular condition one wishes to share with others, however, as it has to do with a trail of cysts lining one’s butt crack. The speaker had us gather into groups of five, ask around for specifics that we could pray about, and then start praying. One man indicated he had arthritis so we prayed for him first. Over and over we repeated our prayers hoping to see some miracle. We were told not to give up but to trust God. After a while, he gave in and said that he thinks it feels a little better than normal. Perhaps God began a healing process. So we had a potential slight miracle in our midst and perhaps this could increase our faith for the next miracle.

We then prayed over my own condition without providing details. I tried my hardest to feel something to indicate a healing. I very carefully attuned myself to the area hoping to feel heat or tingling as often accompanies these supposed healings. Nothing ever came, but I had hope anyway. I did not wish for my lack of feeling anything to reduce my faith that it might have occurred although I also wondered if my checking at all meant that I doubted and thus had too little faith. After a time, I decided to go check it out in the restroom. As one might expect, it had zero impact, and no one else in the room had anything more miraculous than random placebos of maybe sort of kind of feeling the tiniest bit better about an ailment that did not really go away.

             Despite our ineptitude at harnessing the healing powers of God, everything else screamed in support of us being on the right path and that God wanted us to attend this school. We simply needed more practice in healing and where else were we going to get it but at the place proclaiming to heal people? The evidence seemed clear so long as we did not count any indicating otherwise—pitfalls and contrary evidence were mere tests of our faith.

During a tour of the school, we met a man from Germany who could not personally attend the school for some reason or another. Since he loved God and the school, he wanted to take part in God’s work by paying for someone else to attend. After explaining this, he offered to pay the tuition for Emily and indeed he actually did pay up. It could not get any clearer than that except maybe by paying for both of our tuitions or if a voice from heaven spoke to us directly. We had made our decision—we were to marry and attend the Forerunner School of Ministry.

             I then met Emily’s father for the first time—a Master Gunnery Sergeant in the Marine Corp. I asked him for his blessing to take his daughter’s hand in marriage. He did not give it, of course, which caused for a lot of heartache and confusion. I figured God would make it work out but he never did. Perhaps God no longer acted in the business of physically changing a person’s mind like he did with hardening the Pharaoh’s heart. Maybe he wanted to test my faith and see whether or not I would let a mere man scare me away from God’s true path. Or maybe he wanted to test my resolve to do the right thing by honoring Emily’s father while expecting that God will pull through and change his heart anyway due to my humble resolve. I opted for the first interpretation, of course, and I would not be so easily persuaded to disobey God even by a Marine Corp sergeant. I pushed forward with the plans despite his disapproval and I miraculously kept my head intact. In all truth, he is a very kind and caring man whom I now have a lot of respect for. I was never in any danger, but I did not know that at the time.

             So Emily and I were married that summer. We parted for a couple months prior to our wedding while I prepared a place in Grandview, Missouri for us and she worked to save money back home. We were awaiting our marriage day before living together in marital bliss in the power of the Holy Spirit. My experiences as I awaited our marriage continued to confirm that God saw my faith as beautiful. As foolish as it all may have been from a logical and worldly standpoint, I felt as if God supported me every step of the way.

             I started off to Missouri by taking a Greyhound bus with $200 in my pocket and a bag of clothes. I did not really need anything else since I knew that God would provide everything necessary and I did not require any personal mementos which were a waste of time, space, and resources. I dreamed of all the stories I would tell people when God proved himself true to help us. The doubters would be shocked and awed at God’s provision, power, and support. Upon arrival, a man by the nickname of Brother Fred allowed me to stay in his apartment while I looked for a job and some other place to stay. The experience proved interesting as I lived off his day-old bread and other produce that he received as donations to him. He had no job himself since he, too, was living off faith. I did not yet have such a backing of enablers so I took to finding a job starting at McDonald’s. Since I had previously managed a McDonald’s, I expected I would be a shoe-in for the job.

             I had a few difficulties in the process, however. The application required that I actually lived somewhere and the apartments required that I had a job. I could not get one without the other—a bit of a Catch-22 if you will. Lucky for me, the International House of Prayer had its own apartment complex and they had enough faith to trust that I could land the job at McDonald’s if only I had a residence to call home. So they tentatively accepted my application and provided an address that I could then use to apply at McDonald’s.

Things were indeed working out. I had to press the matter that I needed a room immediately, however, since Brother Fred had other guests lined up, and thus I convinced the manager to give me a room prior to cleaning it out. As faith would have it, this turned out to be quite the blessing in disguise. In the apartment, remained two couches from the previous renters. Two free couches that I would otherwise have not received if they cleaned it first! I had little doubt that God planned this all along and it continued to confirm that God wanted me there.

             On my first day of the job, I met another manager, Lucy, who had apparently been praying for someone more competent and capable than those currently in the restaurant. She exclaimed that God had led me there in answer to her prayers. I reasoned that I could not possibly be her answer to prayer if God did not want me there. I could hardly contain my excitement for the many ways God moved in my faith-filled journey. On top of this confirmation, the boss provided me with an advance in my pay so that I could buy a bike. He called it a bonus, but I later realized it was not when I got my first paycheck. Still, I merely needed to walk the six and a half miles to Walmart to get my bike and things were looking good.

Bikes were a bit more expensive than I had remembered and what I had been given as an advance only amounted to half that of a bike. One bike in particular, however, had been marked significantly lower. God provided just enough funds to buy this one bike in particular which he had apparently picked out just for me. I praised God as I rode the bike home excited that I would no longer need to walk the two miles to work. About half-way home, still delighting in my good fortune, one of the pedals snapped off the bike and rendered it entirely useless. I sullenly pushed the bike three miles back to Walmart in order to return it.

For whatever reason, it did not occur to me to simply save up and buy a new pedal for it which would have been a far simpler solution even if I had to wait a bit. I refrained from being too upset about this turn of events, however, for I saw this as a simple test and I certainly did not want to fail any test from God. My situation reminded me of Jonah’s when God provided him a shade tree and then took it away. Jonah became furious, but I resolved not to fail like he did.

I brought the bike up to the customer service desk and to my surprise they were hesitant to allow me to return the bike because it had an orange spray-painting mark indicating an as-is no return policy—something they declined to tell me at purchase time. A few words with a manager cleared things up, but unfortunately I could not afford any other bike so I had to walk the six and a half miles back home bike-less. At least I obtained some good exercise.

             Fortunately for me, upon explaining my poor luck to my colleagues at McDonald’s, someone went out of his way to give me a bike. He informed me that it was blue and he placed it behind the giant metal dumpster outside. God had pulled through despite my misfortune! I just knew that God would provide if I kept a good attitude and remained faithful! I could hardly wait for work to end to see what I had been blessed with. I expected it to be less than perfect, of course, but as I walked into the dumpster corral, I found a shiny, blue bike sitting right beside the dumpster. It appeared fairly brand-new. I rode it home entirely enthused at God’s provision. I slept soundly and joyously while pondering God’s goodness.

The next day, I confronted a very disheartened coworker. Upon asking why she appeared so sullen, she explained that her brand new bike had just been stolen from within the dumpster corral. I immediately realized what must have happened. Sheepishly, I informed her that it may have been my fault as I described the bike I took. It turned out that there were two bikes in the corral: one behind the dumpster and one beside the dumpster which I saw first and took. Her mood brightened up quickly while mine began to fade on account of being an accidental thief and knowing that I likely would not be receiving such a nice bike after all. Indeed, I found my replacement to be quite a bit less impressive than the one I had stolen. Still, I laughed it off and took joy in the mediocrity of what I had been provided with for free. At least I still had a bike and God even provided it himself. I did not need anything fancy, and I figured that God had it out to test me yet again. He does like to test.

             It is worth noting that I had originally insisted that God gave me the advance as a gift to buy a bike which only led to disaster. The gift remained a gift in my mind yet the hardship remained nothing but another means of God to work his miraculous powers or to test me. This is confirmation bias at its best. Every good thing is attributed to God and every bad thing is, of course, not his fault but a test of our faith or a means for God to show even more powerfully. Such things are obviously incapable of being evidence for anything seeing as they are pre-sorted to begin with. Good is God and bad is not. Thus, God is unmistakably good. One could easily say just the opposite that every bad thing is an act of an evil God and every good thing is luck or God simply setting someone up to fail even harder. They are truly evidence for nothing. I had yet to learn this concept of coincidence and bias, however, and I continued on my way seeing every blessing as a gift from God.

 

*  *  *

 

I spent a lot of my time at the 24-hour prayer-house where they were almost always performing some kind of music on stage and people were always praising and praying. One day, before heading out to the prayer house, I had written out a list of things I wished God would help me with. I needed pots, pans, plates, bowls, cups, and even toilet paper. I had brought nothing but the clothes in my bag and I had to spend my $200 on a rent deposit combined with money I borrowed from my soon-to-be father-in-law. I had no paycheck yet and nothing left to speak of. I needed help and I went looking for it at the prayer house.

             I sat in the large room soaking in the praise music as it resounded everywhere. They often played “prophetic” music which equated to making up repetitive lyrics as they came to mind. The prophetic music had its own unique sound which was somewhat hypnotic and relaxing. People were spread out all over as they prayed, read, or danced. I prayed over my list and asked God for help and then began reading the Bible and enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. A few minutes later, I heard a familiar voice calling out my name beside me.

I looked up and saw Lucy standing there with a big smile as she began to explain how God had prompted her to get up and leave. She had no idea why she felt so led by God until the moment she spotted me. Immediately, she knew that God had impressed departure upon her that she might find me sitting in the back to help provide for me. Lucy and I both chuckled with delight at the orchestration of God who led her to me just after contemplating whether or not I needed anything and just after I had written it all down. She took me to her house and loaded me up with everything I needed. I even received a set of transparent glass dishes which were the very kind Emily and I had both wanted at the time. I just knew Emily would be excited to hear of this amazing news. Once again, God had provided and even catered to our preferences.

             I called Emily on a payphone at IHOP and I explained all the good news. As I spoke, a young girl interrupted briefly who wished to tell me that God was very pleased with me and my faith. I reasoned this to be quite the remarkable event seeing as I wore a dark hoody and it was the middle of the night. One does not simply go up to strangers at night to say such things—especially not young girls to hooded men in the middle of a phone conversation. I was, of course, at IHOP which meant I could likely be trusted to be a fellow crazy Christian. Still, I took it as yet more confirmation of God’s delight.

With as much as the stranger’s words meant to me, I thought I would pay it forward and I told a random girl I walked past that her eyes looked like she had a gift of prophecy. It sounds like a pretty bad pickup line now that I think about it, but “prophet” simply popped into my head when I saw her. She giggled with delight with her friends. There is no telling what that one sentence might have done to her future—believing oneself to be prophetic can be fairly dangerous as I now know.

             God continued to fill my cup every day and I knew that I had made the right choice to quit college. God encouraged me every step of the way, I had a great fast-food job, I was comfortable in my one-bedroom leaky apartment with a 25-square-foot kitchen, and I had everything I needed including very well-used dishes, reject filthy couches, and my first roll of toilet paper. I even got a stained mattress from someone but I refused to sleep on it until I could share the moment with my brand new wife. I could not wait to see how excited she would be that God had provided so well for me.

             Looking back, I can see why Emily did not seem very skippy regarding God’s provisions when I finally brought her home. When one starts with nothing, such things are amazing no matter the quality. Surely I lived more luxuriously than tribesmen in Africa. To me, it did not matter. To her, she was rather appalled that I would live only one step better-off than a homeless man. But hey, Jesus had nowhere to lay his head and surely we had that beat. I walked the proper path of faith and worldly items meant nothing to me. Her eventual lack of approval dismayed me deeply, but I pressed on despite it.

             Before our wedding and before we reunited back in Michigan, we decided to do a water fast. Not just for one day, but for the two weeks leading up to our marriage. It would be our ultimate show of good faith that we were marrying for the right reasons and to receive God’s blessing over it. After a few days, I found work to be quite difficult in such a fast-paced environment when every little turn of my head caused vertigo, but I did what had to be done and I followed through with what every man of God just about to be married would do: I quit. If I were to be faithful and prove my trust in God, I could not simply stop fasting due to hardship. It would be far more faithful to give up the income than my fast since all things are possible with God. Financial instability is only temporary while marriage is forever, and this fast would seal God’s blessing upon it.

I did not actually quit merely because I struggled to keep up. I discovered that some ethical boundaries were being crossed at McDonald’s that I could not condone. The boss had repeatedly altered the hours that his employees had worked in order to skim dollars and cents off their paychecks on a daily basis. I discovered this since I could view my own hours and I noticed the discrepancy. I certainly could not stand for that and it provided the perfect rationalization for me to trust God for even more provision. I simply quit the job that I once believed God had blessed me with and that I had been prayed into.

             As a recurring theme, no one shared in my happiness regarding my faith and standing up for what is right, but I knew I would get by and in fact I did. I stood strong for my principles and I would not let fear of the unknown rule me. I had the faith of a child and no one would take that from me.

I took a Greyhound bus and reunited with my fiancé back at her dad’s house a few days prior to the wedding. We were both so much skinnier than when we had parted. As the day approached, we helped prepare her dad’s house where the wedding would take place. As we tried painting overhead, we found that we quickly began to get light-headed and nearly passing out. We decided then to break our fast prior to the wedding so that we could be kind and help with the preparations. We could not in good conscious require everyone else to prepare for our wedding while we sat around doing nothing. Surely ten days of fasting demonstrated our love for God well enough and surely our willingness to break an achievement for the sake of others demonstrated love for them as well.

             While we awaited the big day, we spent a significant amount of our time praying over Jessica, a young girl deformed at birth. Confined to a wheelchair, Jessica could hardly move anything beyond her shoulders and her head. Her recreation consisted of typing emails on a computer with a pencil in her mouth to tap each key one at a time by bobbing her head. I heard that her grandparents were abusive, but they were the ones that took care of her including bathing her. She also lived with her mentally disabled brother who appeared to be possessed by a demon from my perspective. Emily and I prayed fervently for Jessica to be healed, but we stayed away from the demon at the time.

As we sat in church with Jessica one day, I cried over the unfairness of her condition while begging God for healing. I grieved and sobbed internally while tears began streaming down my face. Surely God should care enough about her to heal her. I felt so terrible for her condition and her inability to enjoy life. We often see books and stories about disabled people keeping a good outlook on life despite their ailment, but that certainly does not apply to everyone. Jessica had no such positive outlook and she suffered in many ways. She just had to be healed. At multiple times prior to the wedding day, one of us would feel that perhaps this very moment would be the moment she would be healed and we would pray yet again. Again and again we prayed with no greater results than the first time.

             We thought that perhaps Jessica just needed to get up and start walking in order to prove her own faith. After all, Jesus had enough faith himself but often could do nothing if the faith of others lacked. Perhaps Jessica did not have enough faith even if we did. We lifted her out of her wheelchair and placed her bowed and crippled feet on the floor while she struggled with the weight of her body on our hands. We dragged her around expecting her to put her feet down flat and just start walking at any moment. She did not. We tried after the wedding as if our union might give us the necessary power and finalize the faith that we had committed to. Still nothing.

We absolutely could not understand why God would not heal Jessica. Healing had been done by so many people before us and we had all this faith such that we even experienced healing ourselves in Emily. So why not Jessica who needed it so much more? We reasoned that it must not be the right time or that God must have some other good reason for her condition unbeknownst to us. The circumstances were quite heartbreaking, but our faith could not be so easily destroyed. We still had a few more upsets and confusing situations mingled with random successes before such lack of spiritual consistency began to affect us more strongly.