The God of Miracles

October 30, 2018
By Kelly Brumbeloe, Pastor of North Campus

I remember when my sons Zeke and Levi learned the song I’ve Got the Joy, Joy, Joy Joy (Down in my Heart). With each verse, the lyrics get a bit more challenging for children to remember, and the concepts behind the words become harder for our minds to comprehend. Inevitably, I found myself explaining what “the peace that passes understanding” means. This peace is one of God’s most profound promises– the promise that empowers us to trust Him.

I recently gave a sermon discussing the epic challenge between the followers of Yahweh and the followers of Baal atop Mt. Carmel, both attempting to summon their respective God (or god) to bring fire. Of course, in the end, the one true God appeared before Elijah, causing even the followers of Baal to turn their eyes toward God.

I had seen the fire first-hand, through the miraculous healing of my son Zeke’s broken arm (and not just a small break—the kind that looks like an S and takes multiple rounds of casts to properly reset the bone). Zeke’s arm and spirit were broken, and he was sidelined from participating in team sports and playground time with new classmates.

Every night, Steven and I prayed over Zeke’s arm and asked God to heal it quickly and completely. A few weeks later, when we went to the orthopedist for an X-ray and to prepare to size down to the next case, the results were shocking: Zeke’s arm was completely healed. No additional casts were needed. The doctor said he couldn’t explain it, so we told him how we had prayed over the arm every night. The doctor was noticeably unsettled by this but we had (and maintain) a peace.   

Elijah did not need the fire to believe and trust in God. In fact, not long after the event at Mt. Carmel, God appeared to Elijah again, but the voice of God chose to appear in a much less spectacular way—sheer silence.

Earlier this year, Mt. Bethel lost a dear member of our church family, Grace Bunke, at the age of 14. I had seen God do the spectacular in healing her cancer before. When the cancer returned, I remember praying with every ounce of faith I had for her to be permanently healed. Yet this time, the response was… silence.  But you see, Grace did not fear death. She understood the greatest healing happened when Jesus was on the cross.  He healed us from death. In this silence, Grace had miraculous peace—a peace that passes understanding. We cannot question the goodness of God or wonder how Grace’s peace is any less of a miracle than Zeke’s healing.

We serve a God who calls us to trust before the fire comes. Perhaps you are waiting for God to reveal himself to you, but He may be asking you to trust in the sheer silence. Are you listening?