A True Story from Texas
It was an early morning in Texas when the phone rang at the minister’s home. On the other end of the line, a church member — whom we’ll call Juan — sounded frantic. His voice cracked with anger and desperation.
“I’m gonna beat him up!” he shouted.
The minister paused. “Who are you talking about? What’s going on?”
“No, no, no. Just come to the house. Please. I’ll explain everything when you get here.”
Without delay, the minister jumped into his car and drove over. When he arrived, he found Juan pacing in his front yard, his face tense, his body trembling. His wife sat quietly on the porch, watching with worry.
“What’s happening?” the minister asked.
Juan pointed toward the electrical meter box. “It caught on fire last night,” he said. “I ran inside and shut off the main switch before it spread. But I know how the landlord is. He evicts people over stuff like this. I can’t let him do that. I can’t lose my home.”
The minister looked at Juan with compassion. “Let’s pause for a moment,” he said gently. “Let’s pray.”
Right there in the front yard, the three of them — Juan, his wife, and the minister — joined hands and bowed their heads. Their prayer was simple but sincere: that God would move the landlord’s heart. That he would be filled with compassion, with reason, with understanding. That mercy would prevail.
After about fifteen minutes, the landlord arrived. He stepped out of his vehicle, eyeing the minister curiously. “Who are you?”
“I’m the minister,” he replied. “I came to translate and support them.”
The landlord nodded. “What happened here?”
The minister explained: the meter caught fire, Juan acted quickly, cut the main power, and the fire didn’t spread.
The landlord blinked, then softly said, “Praise the Lord.” He shook his head in relief. “If he hadn’t done that… the house would’ve gone up in flames. That was wise of him.”
He looked over at the weathered house. “This place is old. That meter’s probably been hanging there since the beginning. It could’ve happened anytime. I’ll send someone to replace it — wiring, meter, all of it. Should be done by the end of the day.”
And just like that, he drove off.
Juan stood frozen, eyes wide — stunned. “I… I don’t understand what just happened.”
The minister stepped closer. “We prayed. We asked God to touch his heart. To make him kind. Helpful. Full of grace. And He did. Everything we asked for just happened in front of you.”
Juan looked at the minister, processing the reality of what he had just witnessed.
“But there’s something more we need to do,” the minister said.
Juan’s eyes widened again — unsure.
“We need to thank Him,” the minister said with a warm smile.
So they did. They prayed again, this time a prayer of gratitude. Of awe. Of recognition.
Later, as the minister drove away, he pulled into a quiet parking lot and stopped. He bowed his head once more, not out of obligation — but because his heart was overflowing. In that moment, he was deeply moved. Grateful not just for the answered prayer, but for what he saw: a moment where God’s presence was unmistakable. A lesson in spiritual vision — a reminder that God is near, always listening, always working.
Too often, we live spiritually blind.
We accept salvation, understand Christ died for us, perhaps learn some verses or doctrines — but we stop growing.
We stagnate.
We forget to look for God in our daily lives.
And in doing so, we miss the miracles.
But that day, Juan saw one.
And so did the minister.
The fire that threatened his home didn’t become a disaster.
The man he feared would reject him came in peace.
A moment of fear turned into a moment of transformation.
And God?
God was there all along.