That Time God Let Me Touch a Miracle

I started praying for them about six-and-a-half years ago. This place and these kids and the staff who gives their all every day to be the safe family they were created to be part of. I knew neither their names nor the place that they lived. But I prayed.

I prayed mostly when I walked that first year I knew about them. I was training to walk a half-marathon for Team Hope International and raise money for this place, these kids, this staff and the dream of rescuing more of the children whose lives are in the thick of evil, unsafe in their own homes.

I walked two half-marathons in that first year because I wanted to be part of snatching children out of evil’s grip, and walking and running to raise money was all I knew to do. That and praying.

It was not easy. But it was nothing compared to what these children lived.

A year after I walked my second half-marathon, I learned how to run, so I ran/walked a 10k and raised money and learned a whole new level of challenge and dedication as I prayed for them during that time.

That was more than six years ago. 2009.

Storage shed on the property

So last night when I met these children, and literally saw with my physical eyes some of what God has done with my prayers, it was nearly more than my little mind could absorb.

We worshiped God together. The God who used little old all-I-know-to-do-is-pray me to break chains of abuse and raise flags of true victory in 18 lives, and I couldn’t not cry. Literally, tears fell down my face because I couldn’t keep up with them. My chin quivered.

Bie led worship with his guitar and his beautiful heart that loves this unconventional family more than I might ever know. He led us into a song I didn’t know. It was Thai, so I will probably never understand it. I watched and praised God as eighteen children and six adults expressed their love and praise to the One who set them free. The One who picked them up out the mire and placed them here where they can ride their bikes and giggle and eat healthy good food and go to school and play soccer and be cared for when they are sick. And worship Him.

We sat in a circle after expressing our love and praise to the God who’s done all this stuff I couldn’t have imagined six-and-a-half years ago. Then we each introduced ourselves, and I could hardly talk at first because of the lump of this-is-more-amazing-than-I-dreamed kind of tears that had taken residence inside my throat.

I told them I had prayed before I even knew their names. And I remembered God’s promise in Psalm 139.

Several of the kids here weren’t even born when I walked those half-marathons and ran that 10k. But God saw their days. He had already planned out their lives. And for reasons beyond any thoughts I can ever hope to understand this side of heaven, He used me to pray for them.

I think sometimes when we hear about what God is doing somewhere we might never go, we tend to think praying for it is the uninvolved part, that those on the ground getting their hands dirty are the only ones God is using. But getting our knees dirty is just as effective.

He wants to develop passion in our hearts and faith for things we might never see this side of heaven. He somehow uses our prayers to accomplish His purposes. I don’t know how. I have no idea why. But I believe it with all my heart.

I witnessed it last night.