Predatory Lies Exposing the lies that destroy women's lives

It is a lie from the pit of hell that God doesn’t do miracles anymore. I’m sure I’ve experience my fair share of them. To my chagrin, I’ve also forgotten most of them. They don’t seem as  exciting as the Biblical supernatural healings, people walking out of their graves or the never ending fish and loaves. But this week I have witnessed two miracles, God forbid I forget them!

Several weeks ago I woke up with terrible knee pain. I don’t know what I did. Suddenly, excruciating pain squealed circles around my knee cap when I walked. Oddly enough, walking hurt worse than squats or going up the stairs. For days I hoped it would simply go away. Then I started desperately praying that it would go away. I admit, my primary motivation for ridding myself of this pain, was so that I could continue my strenuous workouts – long runs, etc.

Every few days my knee would feel a little better, I’d push it a little further and then it would deteriorate to worse than before. Tuesday morning, I thought it was significantly improved and I took off on a 7 mile run. Dumb, dumb, dumb. I was in agony the rest of the day. Fear nibbled at the back of my mind, “You’ve probably screwed it up so badly you’ll never run again. You certainly won’t be able to run the half marathon in March. How stupid and obviously obsessed with exercise can you be to have gone out and run yesterday?”

Wednesday was even worse.

Then, I woke up on Thursday morning and the pain was gone. Completely gone. I hopped up and down, ran up and down the stairs, walked the dog – did everything to try and make it hurt again. I can’t. The pain is gone.

I called my doctor-sister, “Unless you can give me a really good medical explanation, I think I just had a miracle!”

NUMBER 2:

Last Monday, I emailed the property manager of our house in Washington State. I was concerned because the direct deposit from our renters was $500 short. Oops, she had forgotten to tell me that they had applied the “military clause,” allowing them to break their lease early. Overnight, I was back to paying a mortgage and rent. Panic ensued.

By now you probably know that I’m overly dramatic. I quickly reassessed our spending and decided we would live on canned food for the rest of our lives, I would never get my hair cut again, I need to cancel our cell phones, fire the cleaning lady, drop the thermostat and shut off the internet.

I contacted a realtor and asked her to help me look at selling the home. Our prospects were dismal, “You stand to lose about $50,000,” she told me. I was on the verge of tears all day long. I agonized over what to do. If we sold it, I would spend the rest of our lives recouping our loss.

That night I was exhausted and headed home with a glass of Cabernet on my mind. I realized that I’d missed a call from our property manager. Just that day she had processed our renter’s move-out.

“Hi Abby. I know you mentioned trying to sell the house this time, but if you’re willing to rent it again, I have it rented 110%!” Tears sprang to my eyes. I had spent the day wallowing in distrust of God, self-pity and fear. I had wrestled with options and battled with discouragement. The whole time, God had already solved my supposed problem.

When I got home, I fell to my knees on the kitchen floor and begged God to forgive me for thinking I needed to solve my own problems – for thinking I could solve my own problems. How could I doubt Him?