Indholdsfortegnelse for June/July 2020 i Mysterious Ways

In times of uncertainty and anxiety, it’s the little things that remind us we’re not alone. Little miracles that point to an unseen benevolence, threading through our daily lives. I was reminded of this one morning when I forgot my umbrella. It was only 8 A.M., but between listening to the morning news and contemplating approaching work deadlines, my mind was already racing. By the time I got downstairs to the shuttle that takes me to the train, I realized it was too late to turn back for the umbrella. I had no choice but to run through the torrential downpour to the van. Great, just what I need! I thought. A frigid, rain-soaked walk from the train to my office when I get to the city. I climbed aboard…

Three-thirty in the morning. I lay awake in bed, bleary-eyed from a night of drinking, exhausted yet unable to sleep. I hated living like this but felt powerless to stop. I was a 27-year-old physical therapist who worked with burn victims at a hospital in central Florida. From the outside, I seemed on my way to success. I owned a boat and rented a three-bedroom cottage by the dock. But I was drinking myself to sleep every night. I’d begun showing up for work with traces of the previous night’s party on my breath. I’d recently crashed my friend’s car. If I kept going like this, I would soon be drinking around the clock. I could lose everything. I’d grown up watching my dad’s drinking become a problem after my…

I was driving home one night along country roads. I have a 2018 Toyota Camry with park assist sensors and automatic braking. Out of nowhere, one of the sensors pinged, indicating I was getting close to something on the right side of my car. But nothing was there. I ignored the sensor and kept driving—when it happened again! Nervous, I slowed down. What if there was some kind of electrical problem? Then the brake warning came on. This usually happened only when a car in front of me stopped abruptly. I hit the brakes and peered out into the darkness. There was nothing in sight. And then, suddenly, there was. A deer jumped out of the woods right in front of my car, bounding to the other side of the…

SENIOR CONTRIBUTING EDITOR I have a vivid childhood memory that stands out from the rest. A Wednesday afternoon in the Southern California town where I grew up. I was riding my bike home from a piano lesson. My Sunday school class was studying the Old Testament, and as the wheels of the bike whirred, my thoughts drifted to how God spoke to Abraham, to Moses, to Isaac, to Sarah. Could God still speak to people like me? “God,” I prayed, “could you please say something?” Winter rains had cleared the smog so that the mountains glowed in the slanting rays of late afternoon sun. It was a good day. My piano lesson had gone well; I’d earned a smiley face from my teacher. I was coming to a hill that…

God is the Absolute Idea, a circle that returns upon itself, not a straight line projected indefinitely.Joseph Alexander Leighton, PHILOSOPHER Can you fathom the mysteries of God? Can you probe the limits of the Almighty? They are higher than the heavens above—what can you do? They are deeper than the depths below—what can you know? Their measure is longer than the earth and wider than the sea.Job 11:7–9 After all, God is God because he remembers.Elie Wiesel NOBEL LAUREATE AND HOLOCAUST SURVIVOR One of the first things that comes to mind is the fact that God is unique. As he says in Isaiah 46:9, ‘There is none like me.’ He exists in three coeternal and coequal persons called the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. He creates, redeems and gives grace.…

Margie McKinney Dean Losing my husband, Mike, to a massive heart attack was devastating. He was the love of my life. I was suddenly a widow at age 44. I didn’t know how to go on without him. One evening, a few weeks after the funeral, I was putting away a pile of clothes stacked on Mike’s side of the bed when I noticed the mattress was warm. Unusually warm. We had a dual-controlled electric mattress pad for chilly winter nights, but his side had broken a few days before he died. I hadn’t touched it since. I checked it again now just to be sure. A familiar orange indicator showed that it had switched on—to Mike’s preferred temperature. Carl Leatherbery One Friday at work, I had an overwhelming feeling…

“Colt, I think I’m going to die.” My wife, Krystyna, struggled to get the words out. I had to lean in to hear her. Her voice was weak. She looked small in the hospital bed, her skin pale and shining with sweat. “No, honey,” I said. “Don’t say that. You can’t lose hope.” I couldn’t blame her, though. It had been two weeks since what was supposed to be a routine appendectomy, and she was getting worse, not better. The doctors didn’t have any answers. It was hard not to feel hopeless. It had all started on Mother’s Day. We’d loaded the kids into the car and driven to a campsite we’d rented with some friends for the weekend. It was the perfect spot, nestled between cedar trees and close…

Bal Gill, of Berkshire, England, was looking through photos of her family’s trip to Edinburgh, Scotland, when she spotted an infrared photo from their visit to the Camera Obscura & World of Illusions. She’d snapped it on her phone while she and her family toured the museum’s thermal imaging room. She noticed something troubling about the photo. Unlike her family members, who appeared to have hot spots only on their faces and hands, Bal had a strange glowing hot spot on her chest. She could’ve written it off as a glitch of the camera. But days passed, and Bal couldn’t seem to get it out of her mind. It worried her so much, she made a doctor’s appointment. It was a good thing she did. Tests showed that the 41-year-old…

“One of my parishioners had a dream last night that I want to share with you,” said Pastor Garry, a close friend of ours. He’d called my wife, Angie, and me after his service. He described the woman’s dream, about a family standing in a beautiful green pasture, surrounded by a glowing triangle, happy and safe. “I asked everyone to pray for you during your move,” he said. “She thinks her dream is a sign you’ll be all right.” We thanked him for his call. We were planning to move from our home in Oklahoma to Lancaster, Pennsylvania, to pursue a job opportunity. It was a big change, and we were nervous. When we got to Lancaster, things were tough. The cost of living was higher than we expected, making…

RANCHO SANTA MARGARITA, CALIFORNIA I was about halfway up a cliff face on Mount Thompson, with California’s Sierra Nevada spread out behind me. But I didn’t have time to enjoy the panoramic view. I was focused on reaching the summit. I was free-climbing—scaling the cliff face without safety ropes. I’d gone 70 feet so far. I had about 100 feet left to go. I swiped the sweat from my forehead and prepared for my next move. This section was tricky; the cliff face was smooth and flat. Not many places to grip, save for a baseball-size handhold just within reach of my right hand. I’d use this to hoist myself up. My fingers closed around it. Crack! The rock crumbled in my hand! I flailed around for something to grab.…

When my husband, Mike, died over Labor Day weekend in 2018, I was left reeling. On Friday, we’d rushed him to the hospital for stomach pains. It turned out to be pancreatic cancer. Stage IV. By Sunday, he was in emergency surgery. He never regained consciousness. By Tuesday, my husband of 50 years was gone. I never even said goodbye. Before I knew it, I was organizing his funeral. Mike, a retired senior master sergeant with the U.S. Air Force, would be buried at Arlington Cemetery with a full military send-off. But because of a backlog of funerals, the earliest his could happen was November. It was already tough dealing with Mike’s unexpected passing, and now he wouldn’t be laid to rest for almost two months. Closure felt elusive. As…

I stepped outside my church into the frigid winter air, holding my cell phone. It had been going off nonstop since I sat down in the pew. The number came up as “restricted,” so I’d originally ignored the calls. I don’t usually ac-cept calls from numbers I don’t know. I had the phone on vibrate so it wasn’t disturbing anyone around me, but after the fifth call, I decided I’d better answer. I’m a police officer, and I was worried it might be someone trying to get in touch with me about an emergency. I’d quietly left my seat and slipped out the doors to take the call outside. That’s when I saw an elderly man lying unconscious on the walkway leading to church. His glasses were broken, and there…

I was leaving work when my phone rang. “Hello?” I answered. “Hey, Dusty,” said a voice. “It’s Martha.” Martha? She was an old work acquaintance, someone I hadn’t spoken to in years. “I know this is random,” she said, “but I believe I found a Bible that belongs to your family in a secondhand shop. I froze. It couldn’t be? Could it…? “What does it look like?” “It’s bound in green leather,” said Martha. “There’s a family tree on the inside, and your name is written on it! The pages are also a little singed—” “That’s it! That’s my mom’s Bible!” I said, my hands shaking. The Bible was a long-lost family heirloom, one I’d never expected to see again. It had been passed from generation to generation on my…

“It should be remembered that nothing is impossible with God.”—JARENA LEE (1783–c.1864) Jarena Lee’s ministry began with a message from an ethereal voice: “Preach the Gospel; I will put words in your mouth and will turn your enemies to become your friends.” Surprised, she asked God if she understood his instruction—the image of a Bible on a pulpit appeared. AME church founder Rev. Richard Allen told Jarena it was against policy for women to preach. At a service eight years later, in 1817, the preacher was unable to deliver a sermon. On a “supernatural impulse,” Jarena gave a powerful address. In the audience, Reverend Allen was so moved, he endorsed Jarena as the first African-American female preacher. Directed by God, she spent the next 20 years preaching to audiences of…