Brooke Chavez of 2014’s E Squad asked God to allow her to see a miracle. He did – and he let her be a part of it.
On the side of a Nepali mountain I saw a miracle. Actually, I more than just saw a miracle. I took part in a miracle.
Our group of two teams hiked up this particular mountain the night before. It was an arduous trek that involved more stairs up than steps forward. Around sundown we reached a little village of stone houses near the peak of the mountain. We joined in a prayer gathering in our host’s home and we slept on grass mats on the dirt floor. The next morning we were served a Nepali breakfast of chicken seasoned in garlic, sliced potatoes and dal over white rice. Before we began our hike down, our host knelt in his front yard and asked us to pray for his home and family. We did so, and as our host got to his feet, the stage was set for the first miracle I would pray for with my own lips and then see with my own eyes.
Since the race began I have asked God to do a miracle – a big, impossible, unbelievable miracle that could only be explained by a God who is bigger than the laws of nature.
I don’t mean to toss aside the little miracles that God does everyday. Those are just as miraculous, just as important, and just as God-orchestrated. But the kind of miracle I’m talking about is one I can touch with my own hands. I specifically asked God to allow me to lay my hands on someone and see them be healed.
I struggled with this request even after I decided to ask God for it. Do I need to see miraculous things to believe in God? No. Should I expect God to answer my prayers like He’s my personal genie? No. I didn’t want to tempt God, but I decided He’s big enough to handle me asking, even if the answer was no.
So I asked, and on December 12 God answered.
Our host was standing to his feet when Jyoti, our contact, guide and mom for the month roused us from our prayerful silence.
“We have to move.” She indicated we should say our goodbyes and begin the long hike down the mountain. But as our teams began to trickle out of the yard a woman brought a boy, about 8 years old, to Jyoti.
“We have to pray for this boy,” Jyoti translated. “He has a problem with his eyes and he can’t see.”
Amber and I laid our hands on his head, and once again asked God to do a miracle. After a few moments, we said ‘Amen’ and pulled back our hands.
Jyoti held up two fingers and asked him in Nepali what he saw.
“Two!” he replied in English. I wasn’t ready to believe him, so I stepped back and held up four fingers.
“Four!” he said, and then “Two! Five! One!” as I changed fingers. Amber and I exchanged looks with our mouths open.
Jyoti just smiled and nodded. She did not seem to share our amazement. In fact, she acted as if this was completely normal.
“Was he…?” I began, unsure how to finish.
“He couldn’t do that before,” she answered. “He’s fine. Ok, lets go. We have to move.”
And just like that we were off down the mountain. There was no praise song or tearful testimony to herald the event. No bells were ringing or choir singing. It was exactly the miracle I had prayed for, but without the fanfare and glory I expected. Doesn’t it remind you of someone else who chose to come to us in the same way – without pomp and fanfare?
*Top photo by @whoisadamsmith
Can you picture yourself living stories like this? We invite you to apply for the World Race and see where God leads you.
