It doesn’t matter how strong our faith is – we all doubt God from time to time. We doubt what His Word says, we doubt whether what He’s revealed to us is really true, we even doubt His existence sometimes.

Every Christian has these doubts from time to time. But how do you overcome them? What keeps you grounded, reminds you that regardless of your doubt, God still is? Is there, is real, is worthy of our love and devotion?

For me, it’s a memory.

No matter how I may feel today, I remember a time in my past when I visibly saw God at work. I remember a time when I knew without a shadow of a doubt that He is real.

This memory is what brings me back to reality when I let my doubts get the best of me, and I want to share it with you. It’s lengthy, but I think it’s an amazing story.

It happened in Matamoros, Mexico during the summer of 2001. My youth group and I stayed at a compound ordinarily used for housing missionaries. The trip was structured like most high-school mission trips – we fed the homeless, visited orphanages, and did construction on a local church. (Can you imagine me working with rebar and shoveling gravel for cement?!)

One afternoon, my team and I headed on on a prayer walk, which was just what it sounds like. We would hop into a van (the one I had the pleasure of traveling in had a leaky roof – yep, even in the middle of the desert, water would drip down on our heads from who-knows-where unless we plugged the holes with a bandana) and would drive to a nearby neighborhood. Then we would just stroll up and down the streets together, praying for whatever came to mind – the houses we walked by, the people we passed on the street, other people on the trip, situations back home, etc.

That day, we’d just gotten started on our walk when a dilapadated car came out of nowhere and screeched to a halt beside us. An older woman was behind the wheel, and an older man was in the backseat chattering away in Spanish. They exchanged a few words with our translator and then sped off. Our translator explained to us that we’d just been invited to visit their home and pray with them.

Naturally, I was hesitant to go into the house of someone I’d never met in a country I’d never been to…wasn’t that just asking for trouble?

But after some discussion, my team decided to take a chance and do what the couple had asked, so following the directions they’d given to our translator, we walked a few blocks over to their house.

The couple was thrilled to see that we’d taken them up on their offer, and we all gathered on the carport to chat. The woman who had been driving explained that her husband, Antonio (who had been in the back seat), wanted us to pray for his health.

Antonio was sitting there in a wheelchair as his wife explained that he was unable to walk because of his diabetes, and I could see that his legs and feet were an unhealthy shade of purple from poor circulation.

My team gathered around Antonio and his wife and began to pray (as the translator translated our words into Spanish) for the healing of his legs.

Now, as this prayer was going on, I was thinking, I hope this prayer at least makes Antonio and his wife feel better about his poor health. Don’t we pray all the time for people’s healing? God doesn’t always answer those prayers the way we want Him to.

And, I thought as we continued to pray, why do Antonio and his wife think that asking us to say a prayer for him would really do him much good? I didn’t doubt that God would hear our prayer – I was just being realistic. They seem a little too confident in the prayers of a group of teenagers, I thought.

After we all said amen, I looked up at Antonio. He was just sitting there as he had been sitting during the prayer – looking upward, eyes closed, arms outstretched, palms up. Doesn’t he know the prayer was over? What is he doing?

The old man opened his eyes with a look of astonishment. What’s going on? I wondered. Why does he have that look on his face?

Then he lifted himself out of his wheelchair. He stood up and looked around, as though he couldn’t believe what he was doing. And then, he took a step. And then another step. And another.

As I watched – right before my eyes – the color in his legs returned to normal. It was as though the purple just drained away. Within a few moments, the color in his legs and feet looked normal.

Am I actually seeing this? Have I really just witnessed a miracle? Not the “I passed my test without studying” kind of miracle, but the type of miracle that shows up in the pages of the Bible? The kind that few people ever get to witness in their lifetime?

In a word: yes.

Antonio began leaping and dancing about the carport. I didn’t know much Spanish, but I knew that he was praising God for the ability to walk again, something he hadn’t been able to do in quite a while.

I don’t remember what happened after that. I was in shock!

We returned to Antonio’s house for a visit several days later, and he was still doing well. He and his wife were so greatful that we’d prayed for his healing and told us we were all welcome to visit them when they built their dream house one day in San Antonio. They’d adopted all of us, they said, and all of our last names were now Sanchez.

So now, years later, this memory is what keeps me grounded. I saw this. I was there when it happened. After witnessing it, I could not deny God’s existance even if I wanted to.

And I think that we would witness miracles like this far more often than we do if we just expected them. I think we often have the mindset that I did that day: God is probably going to hear my prayer, but I’m not expecting anything to drastic to happen right away.

And thank goodness, God overlooked “me of little faith” that day and acted anyway. Antonio and his wife expected a miracle, and God let me be there to witness it.

So I’d like to challenge you to keep your eyes open. Be open to God, to what He wants to do in your life, and to what he wants you to do in others’ lives. You never know what kind of miracle He will let you take part in if you just expect Him to show up in a big way.

-Tiffany