A Living Testimony

This past First Sunday, from my seat in the choir stand, I witnessed something that I will never forget.

As my pastor stood preparing to move from the pulpit to administer Holy Communion, I noticed a moment of hesitation. He paused and looked around, seemingly searching for assistance to help him navigate the two steps leading from the pulpit to the sanctuary floor.

For many, it may have appeared to be a small moment. But for those who know his story, it was much bigger than that.

Just over a year ago, a devastating fall left him paralyzed. Doctors delivered the kind of news no one ever wants to hear. They told him he might never walk again.

But my pastor's response was simple and unwavering: "The devil is a lie."

What followed was nearly a year of painful therapy, countless prayers, unwavering faith, and a determination that refused to surrender. Eventually, he returned to the pulpit. At first, it was in a motorized wheelchair. Over time, he progressed to walking on his own. Though his recovery continues and he still occasionally requires assistance, every step he takes today is a testimony of God's grace.

But there he stood on Sunday. Waiting. Looking. Hoping someone would help. But the help never came. Not from one of the associate ministers. Not from one of the many deacons preparing for communion.

As I watched him glance around, the words of an old gospel song began to echo in my spirit: "I Searched all over, couldn't find nobody. I looked high and low, still couldn't find nobody."

Then something remarkable happened. I don’t know if he was hearing the same song that was running through my mind but it became clear that the same God who had carried him through paralysis, pain, rehabilitation, and recovery was not about to leave him standing there alone.

Slowly, he stepped forward. He walked to the edge of the pulpit. Then he began making his way down the steps. By himself. Still unsteady. Still carrying the effects of paralysis on one side of his body. But walking. One step at a time. One prayer at a time. One victory at a time.

As the congregation realized what was happening, the sanctuary erupted. People rose to their feet with thunderous applause, not because a man had simply walked down a few steps, but because they were witnessing a living testimony. They knew what he had been through. They were watching faith walk. They were seeing perseverance in motion. They were witnessing what prayer looks like when it refuses to quit.

And he wasn't finished. He continued down the aisle and back again. For the first time in months, he was able to administer Holy Communion on his own.

As I stood there watching, I couldn't help but marvel at what God had done. My mind drifted to the words of another song: “I trust in God, my Saviour the one who will never fail. I sought the Lord, and He heard, and He answered."

What I witnessed Sunday morning was more than a pastor walking. It was proof that God's report is greater than the doctor's report. It was evidence that setbacks are not always permanent. It was a reminder that sometimes the very thing that was meant to stop you becomes the testimony that inspires others.

There will be moments in life when the help you expect does not arrive. The people you thought would be there may be absent. The hands you anticipated reaching for you may never come. But when human help fails, divine help remains. And sometimes God allows us to stand alone long enough to discover that we were never standing alone at all.

From my view from the choir stand, I learned a powerful lesson this First Sunday: When nobody else shows up, Jesus still does. And sometimes all you need is one more step and enough faith to take it.