God Sightings: Moments We Knew He Was Near

God Sightings: Moments We Knew He Was Near

Over the past few months—through a storm we never expected—our family has felt held. Not just by our church, but by God Himself.

Slowly, it became clear: He was working in our waiting, in our uncertainty, and we were not alone.

Everywhere we turned, someone from our church was there. A nurse. A clerk. A counselor. Someone with knowledge we needed to help move us forward. Quiet, steady reminders whispering, You are not alone.

And when we had nothing left to give, meals began to appear. Groceries. Snacks. Soup on our doorstep. Somehow, we never ran out. To everyone who helped—thank you. You were the hands and feet of Jesus during a very difficult time for my family.

Prayer became our oxygen.

One afternoon, under the weight of it all, I found myself alone at Church. The sanctuary was empty—but not silent. I knelt at the altar and began to slowly pray through the Lord’s Prayer, lingering on each phrase, repeating them over and over as they moved through me. With each line, I paused—reflecting, releasing what words alone couldn’t carry.

As I prayed, rain began to fall on the metal roof above, a gentle sound that instantly stilled my anxious heart. I was so grateful.

Then something extraordinary happened.

As I moved through each section of the prayer, the rain responded. It swelled and softened, rose and fell, as if in perfect harmony with my words, and in perfect rhythm with the weight of each plea. With every deepening cry, the rain intensified—crescendoing with my need, surging with my gratitude. Then like a gentle breath it would ease again—giving space to absorb what had just passed, before guiding me gently into the next line.

When I reached the most tender part of the prayer, the rain surged. It became hail—loud and unmistakable, a thunderous sound against our metal roof. And in that moment, I felt the Lord say: “I am with you. I hear you.”

When creation itself joins the conversation, it’s hard not to listen and acknowledge that —without question — the God who spoke the stars into being saw me. He heard me. And He responded. He lifted my burden and reminded me, my family, and maybe even you: We are not forgotten. You are not alone. You are deeply seen. You are loved.

We’re still in the middle of our story. But these God sightings are proof—He’s not just waiting at the end of the road. He’s here, with us, in every detail. Every kindness. Every need. Every prayer.

With deep gratitude,
Jonathan