04/09/2026
Here is a powerful testimony of what happened on Sunday night in Church and just once again shows Gods amazing heart for us.
A Hand on My Back - A Small Miracle That Meant Everything
Yesterday, something happened at church that I will never forget.
We had our celebration service for our new church premises at Redwood College. Our church had already been operating from the premises for some time, but yesterday was special. It was a celebration of what had been accomplished after all the hard work, effort, sacrifice, and dedication that so many people had put into making this place our church home.
It was a very special evening.
Our Pastor, Lee, invited his uncle and cousin to be part of the opening ceremony. Before his uncle came up to preach, Lee shared something with us that touched me deeply.
He told us that when he was around 16 years old, his uncle and aunt took him in. They never gave up on him. They stood by him, loved him, and helped him become the man—and the pastor—he is today.
Lee said that his uncle is like a father to him, and his cousin is like a brother.
Then Lee sat down beside his cousin and put his hand around his cousin's shoulder.
I don't know exactly why, but something stirred inside me.
Perhaps because, in that simple gesture, I could see something I had been longing for without even realizing it.
Love. Family. Belonging. Someone standing beside you and saying, "I haven't given up on you."
And suddenly, all the things I had been carrying came rushing to the surface.
The past few months have been difficult.
Work has become a place where I constantly feel challenged by difficult people, and the environment at the office often doesn't feel uplifting. Instead of coming home refreshed, I often come home carrying the weight of the day with me.
We have been building our new house, which should be an exciting and happy time, but it has also brought enormous pressure.
My daughters are teenagers now, and as much as I love them with everything I have, raising teenagers can put a tremendous amount of emotional strain on you. There are days when I feel like I'm trying to hold everything together for everyone.
Then I broke my wrist in three places.
Another thing.
Another problem.
Another thing to deal with.
And somewhere along the way, I lost something.
I lost my passion.
I still love Jesus.
I love Him with all my heart.
But I felt like He was far away.
It felt like I was praying into silence.
It felt like God had forgotten about me.
And the hardest part was that I didn't feel like I had permission to feel that way.
Because I know what the Bible says.
I know that God loves me.
I know that He hasn't abandoned me.
I know that He is faithful.
But knowing something in your head and feeling it in your heart can sometimes be two very different things.
I had become tired.
Tired of being strong.
Strong for my family.
Strong at work.
Strong when things went wrong.
Strong when I was hurting.
Strong when I didn't know what to do next.
And sitting there yesterday, watching Lee with his uncle and cousin, something inside me simply broke.
Not in a bad way.
It was almost like my heart finally said:
"God, I need You."
So I prayed a very simple prayer.
I said:
"God, if You still love me, and if there really is hope at the end of this dark tunnel, please let Lee's uncle walk down from the stage and put his hand on me."
It was such a random request.
Almost impossible.
I wasn't asking for a miracle like the Red Sea opening.
I wasn't asking for something spectacular.
I just wanted something small.
Something personal.
Something that would tell me:
"I see you."
Because when Lee put his hand around his cousin's shoulder, I could see the love between them.
I could feel it.
And something inside me wanted to feel that same reassurance from God.
A few minutes later, Lee's uncle said that Lee had given him permission to leave the stage and walk among the people while he preached.
My heart started racing.
I watched him walk.
And he was coming in my direction.
I got goosebumps.
I thought:
"Is this really happening?"
He came closer.
Then he walked past me.
He turned around and walked away.
And I thought:
"Silly me. What did I expect?"
I almost laughed at myself.
What right did I have to ask God for a sign?
God's Word already tells me He loves me.
I don't need a sign.
I need faith.
So I let it go.
A while later, after preaching from the stage again, he came down.
And once again, he started walking in my direction.
My heart started beating faster.
I thought:
"Come on, Lord. Is this it?"
He walked past me again.
Then he turned and went down the other aisle.
And this time I simply thought:
"God, I know You can do this. But who am I to ask You for a sign that You love me? Your Word already tells me that You love me. I just have to trust You and accept it."
So I surrendered it.
Near the end of the service, he prayed.
I sat there with my elbows resting on my legs.
For the first time in what felt like a long time, I wasn't thinking about work.
I wasn't thinking about my house.
I wasn't thinking about my wrist.
I wasn't thinking about my problems.
I wasn't thinking about what tomorrow was going to bring.
I was just sitting there in the presence of the Lord.
Calm.
Peaceful.
And genuinely enjoying the sermon.
I had stopped looking for the sign.
And then...
I felt a hand on my back.
I was shocked.
I looked up.
And there he was.
His hand was on my back.
For a moment, I couldn't believe it.
"Is this real?"
"No way."
But it was.
The very thing I had quietly asked God for had happened.
Not dramatically.
Not with thunder.
Not with lights.
Not with some huge supernatural event.
Just a hand.
A simple hand on my back.
But to me, it was enormous.
Because God knew.
He knew what I had been carrying.
He knew how tired I was.
He knew how far away I felt.
He knew that underneath everything, I was simply asking:
"Jesus, do You still love me?"
And perhaps the answer was never really in question.
Because Jesus had already answered it on the cross.
But yesterday, He reminded me.
He reminded me in the smallest way possible.
A hand on my back.
And suddenly that small touch meant:
"I haven't forgotten you."
"I see you."
"I know you're tired."
"You don't have to carry everything alone."
"There is still hope."
Maybe some people would call it coincidence.
Maybe someone else would say it was nothing.
Maybe Lee's uncle had absolutely no idea what was happening inside my heart when he put his hand on me.
And that's okay.
Because I know what I prayed.
And I know what happened afterwards.
I don't need to convince anyone else.
This was between me and God.
Yesterday reminded me that sometimes we are so busy looking for God to do something enormous that we miss the little things He does.
Sometimes the miracle isn't the thing that changes the world.
Sometimes the miracle is the thing that changes you.
Yesterday, nothing about my circumstances suddenly changed.
My problems are still waiting for me today.
Work is still work.
The house still needs to be finished.
My daughters are still teenagers.
My wrist still needs to heal.
Life hasn't suddenly become easy.
But something inside me changed.
For a moment, I remembered what I had forgotten.
Jesus hasn't moved.
I had just become so tired that I couldn't feel Him anymore.
And perhaps that is the message I needed.
God doesn't always remove the tunnel.
Sometimes He simply reminds us that He is walking through it with us.
Yesterday, I asked for a sign that Jesus still loved me.
And He didn't give me a spectacular miracle.
He gave me something much smaller.
Something I could feel.
A hand on my back.
And for me, that was enough.
Thank You, Jesus.
Thank You for not giving up on me.
Thank You for seeing me when I felt invisible.
Thank You for reminding me that I am not alone.
And thank You for reminding me that even when I feel like my passion is gone, even when I feel empty, even when I feel like You are far away...
You are still there.
I just need to keep walking.
Because there is still hope at the end of this tunnel.
And yesterday, for the first time in a while, I felt it again.
Sometimes all we need is a reminder that God is still there.
For me, yesterday, that reminder was a hand on my back.
