Valentine's Day Miracle

I tapped my fingers on the wheel at 1 and 11 o'clock, my head bobbing up and down. I took the turn, turning the wheel with the palm of my hand right on 12, moving the tapping to the armrest on my left, and maneuvered my green Ford Escort into the parking space in front of the church. Turning off the engine, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and glanced at the last text sent, rolling my eyes. As I leaned back and closed my eyes for a couple of seconds, sighing out my nose as I slumped out the door and into the church, I wondered why I had signed up for this.

Not that there was anything wrong with what was happening – it was a valentine's dinner for married couples. I absolutely love and value the married couples in my church – they have encouraged my life and modeled for me what a mature relationship looks like, and I appreciate that immensely. But I was tired – exhausted, even. It was one of those weeks – school, homework, 8-hour custodian workday. Re-rinse, re-use, re-wash, times five. And not only that, but it was Single's Awareness Day. The declaration on my friend Sandy's facebook status update page resounded in my head: “Dear single men of Boise: grow a backbone. Thanks, Sandy.” And amid all this, when I received a text from the pastor's son to help out with the dinner, I reluctantly said yes. And now, looking back, I'm so glad I did.

I smiled at a middle-aged man that I recognized from my church, dressed in a full tuxedo as he walked into the sanctuary. Everyone that came in looked beautiful - the red dresses, the high heels, the white bowties. I can't wait to get married.

As I began to serve the food to the teenage waiters and waitresses from our youth group, I noticed an older man out of the corner of my eye leaving the building with his wife. I knew this couple, they've been around charismatic churches in the Boise area for years, but this time I noticed something different that I can't believe I didn't notice before: the man was walking with a cane.

In the Bible, Jesus disciples were sent out with an odd mission: “Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. Freely you received, freely give” (Matthew 10:8). I believe God is the same yesterday, today, and forever – He was the healer then, and He's the healer now. Programming had taken over – I switched to auto-pilot and walked over to the older man, my friend Bill.

Bill's eyes were on the door. After he walked through the door, his eyes were on the car. His wife helped him out by holding the door open just as I walked up, his grey hair beginning to slightly blow above his thick-framed glasses. They greeted me with warm smiles, but only for a second as their gaze was directed back toward their Mercedes. I went out on a limp:

“Hey, Bill! Did you guys have a good time?

His wife looked at me and said, “Yeah, we had a great time! Thanks so much for helping out tonight!”

“No problem! I'm just glad you guys had fun.” I paused and looked at Bill, who had made his way to the driver's-seat door. “Hey, I didn't know you had a cane! Are you in a lot of pain when you walk?”

Bill's lips turned flat. “Yeah, every day.”

“Hey, well...can I pray for you real quick?”

“Sure.”

“Ok!” I stepped down off the curb, putting my hand on Bill's shoulder. “Lord Jesus, I just pray for Bill right now, and I just ask that you come and heal his whole body, from head to toe, right now in the name of Jesus. Come and be with him tonight, Father. We love you God, thank you for being awesome. Amen.”

“Amen. Thanks Matt” he said as he got in the car and shut the door, immediately turning on the heater. His wife came and gave me a hug, and they were off.

The rest of the story is really interesting. Honestly I wasn't expecting anything to happen there, in fact it seems like the coolest stories are when God heals someone that I hardly remember praying for. I only remember this story because my mom texts me the next day while I'm at work, contemplating what God thinks of me and whether my future holds anything exciting. The text said “Bill, the guy you prayed for the other night, got totally healed!”

There was no white light on Valentine's Day. There were no angels (that I could see, anyway) that came and danced around the three of us as we huddled around his car on that cold February night. There was just me, a strangely zealous 23-year-old, alongside a loving woman full of grace, and an old man who, after he arrived home and got into bed, couldn't sleep because after 20 years of excruciating pain, was up for hours trying to figure out how a person without pain in their body sleeps. It truly was a Valentine's Day miracle. And Bill was God's Valentine.