The Miracle!!

Dear friends recently experienced a miracle touch of God on their lives - His grace poured out in forgiveness and transformation.  Here it is in poem form by our dear friend Hope Byler.


I wish
you could have seen them --
their glow,
their twinkling smiles
into each other's eyes,
the grace
that has softened
hardened and anger-filled faces . . .

She with the blush of a bride.
He the epitome of protective gentleman . . .
They stood there
telling us all
gathered in the stuffy little church foyer
about the gift of grace . . .
the out-pouring,
the 4 a.m. deluge
that streamed down golden
from heaven.

Arms encircled,
fingers entwined,
we stood agape.
They tell us -
it's better than the first time
better than the honeymoon . . .
and their starry eyes
invite us to believe . . .

The 30-plus years of marriage
have been a spiral down
down
downhill
for decades . . .
distrust,
deceit,
distance . . .
it was all there.
And more.
Much more.
Prayers winged heavenward
from many hearts.
Daily.

Their dozen-less-one children
have been staggering through life -
trying to find hope
amid despair.
Peace
amid chaos.
Life
amid death.
Prayers.
Prayers.

The past week
had seen it all escalated --
till fights and police
and lawyers
entered the scenario.
It was the bottom.
The bottom of the bottom.

But it was in the middle
of a hate-filled, angry,
wee-hours-of-the-morning tirade
that the windows of heaven opened . . .
and could you have seen
the golden waterfall,
the sparkling dazzling stream
of light
beaming downward --
you, like Saul,
would have fallen to the ground
blinded by it's beauty.

A gift so unimaginable
so beyond what we could ask
or think --
a grace so amazing --
flowed from the heart
of the Father
into two battle-weary souls.

Bitterness fled
at the Face of Love.
Resentments melted.
Apologies began to flow
into air
still writhing
from the seething words
spat into it
moments before.
The sweet water of forgiveness
flowed into soul-gouges
clawed deep by death-words.

The curtain of heaven
was gently moved aside
by a scarred Hand -
to allow through
a beam of light
and mercy
and indescribable grace.

And I look around the foyer.
Children smile.
They never stop.
Eyes are all aglow.
Her face radiant.
His eyes mist.
"It was all God," he says.
"It was all grace."

And we raise hands of wild praise
to the Only and Always Good.
We prostrate in worship.
We bow humble before
Almighty God
who holds every detail -
all of life -
in the palm of His hand.
And we know that we know -
with a fresh, wonder-filled faith
that God.
Is.
Love.
Forever
and
always.