Featured Articles
In the Waiting
By Gary Khan
When I was in my early twenties, God gave me a word and a picture regarding His destiny for me. It was overwhelming and compelling, and I have spent the rest of my life waiting for Him to fulfill that vision. Yet it eludes me. Time is creeping forward, and I seem to be standing still, wondering when I will see the fulfillment of that promise from God.
Have you ever felt that way? God drops a word into your heart, a promise for the future, and then He goes silent and seems to have forgotten about what He said. For me it has resulted in doubt storms that rage within me. That doubt sometimes leads to rash decisions when I decide to “help” God fulfill His promise by forging ahead of Him.
Abraham had a similar experience. God spoke to him about his descendants being as numerous as the sands of the seashore when Abraham had yet to father even one child. After God gave him that word, decades passed with no fulfillment in sight. Abraham had to live in the waiting, and in that time of waiting he did some things we would be wise to avoid. The story can be found in Genesis 15 and 16.
Abraham Doubted
Abraham made some major moves, literally, as a result of God speaking to him, moves that seemed to lack any immediate payoff.
Let’s put ourselves in that situation for a moment. God speaks to us regarding a major life change; then He goes silent. How many of us would obey Him right away? Or would we walk around wrestling with doubts about whether we really heard from God? How many of us are not doing the majority of what He has asked us to do right now because we are doubtful about the outcome?
I can hear it already. Some of you are thinking, But Abraham is different. He had God show up in person so he should not have doubted. I do not get personal visitations from God.
Maybe we won’t get a personal visitation like Abraham did, but today we have God’s Holy Spirit. He lives in us and is with us, leading us and guiding us into all truth. Conversely, imagine you did receive a visitation from God for a moment, but then you had to walk day in and day out in the reality that what God told you would happen has not happened – even though it has been years of waiting and various attempts at fulfilling His promise. In those “day-in and day-out” moments, doubts begin to visit, making statements that throw God’s promises into question.
Did I really hear God, or was it the pizza I ate that evening?
Really, I know God can do anything, but would He do that for me? I’m not that special. Maybe I’m doing something wrong. Remember, “God helps those who help themselves,” so if I want to see this happen, then I need to make it happen.
We need to learn to anticipate those doubts. If you are like me, you want God to reassure you every moment until the promise is fulfilled, and then you want Him to continue to reassure you that everything is on track. We want constant reassurance — but God wants us to trust in Him. The need for constant reassurance does not build our faith in Him.
Dealing with Doubt in the Waiting
The enemy’s tried-and-true tactic is to cast doubt on what God said to us. It’s a trick as old as time. In Genesis he asked Eve, “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden’?” (Genesis 3:1, NIV).
We need to recognize this tactic and be prepared to deal with it. In the New Testament, James tells Christians that we can be victorious over Satan and his doubting trick: “Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you” (James 4:7, NIV).
Submit and resist. We submit by believing God’s Word, and we resist by standing on that Word in faith and declaring it over our lives. We resist when we live in the reality of what God has spoken instead of reacting to the doubts Satan is stirring up. We can win over doubt, and the way we win is by reminding ourselves and the enemy of God’s Word to us.
When Abraham and Sarah were plagued by the doubts that came up because of God’s silence, they would have done well to remind themselves what God had said to them. They would have saved themselves a lot of trouble and heartache. The same goes for us. The enemy is looking to steal, kill, and destroy the work of God in us, but God has promised that His Word will not return empty. How do we remind ourselves of God’s precious promises?
- Memorize His Word and repeat it as needed.
- Read it often and hold on to His promises. He will fulfill His Word to us.
The doubts will keep coming, one after another. The enemy’s incessance combined with the seeming slowness of God and His silence lead us to a crossroads where many of us act on our doubts instead of standing on God’s promises. That never ends well.
We will encounter these realities if we trust our plans over God’s:
- We can never see the big picture like God does.
God is not bound by time and space and sees how every little thing affects the big picture; we can never do that. When we choose to trust our plans instead of God’s plans, we take huge risks. We may be able to plan three steps ahead of us, but even that is fraught with trouble because we can never predict how a person may react to something we do, and we do not know what will happen in the bigger scheme of things.
- Our motivations become a problem.
When God plans, He is weaving together a masterpiece that will be for the good of all humankind. When we plan, we are usually concerned with ourselves and getting what we want. Just look at what happened with Abraham, Sarah, Hagar, and Ishmael.
Sarah was not concerned with God’s great plan of bringing salvation to the world through Abraham. Her motivation for a child was to unburden herself from the stigma of not being able to bear a child for her husband. When it seemed like God was taking too long, she decided on a plan to get that child through a surrogate. Hagar was her handmaiden, so she was with Sarah all the time. Hagar probably saw Sarah’s sadness and heard her as she sobbed and complained about how she could not have a child for her husband. I don’t know whose idea it was, whether Sarah suggested it or Hagar offered it, but however the idea was conceived, I can safely say that Sarah was not thinking about Hagar’s well-being. She simply saw her as a means to an end.
One of the problems that occurs when we doubt is that instead of trusting God’s timing, we run ahead and use people around us “in the name of God,” leaving a trail of destruction and brokenness behind us.
- People don’t always respond the way we expect them to or as they promised they would.
Hagar may have told Sarah she would do this as her friend and handmaiden. She may have had good intentions. As a kid hearing this story, I simply assumed that Hagar got pregnant after a one-night stand. But the reality is that Abraham probably went in to Hagar more than once, and when Hagar started having sexual relations with Abraham, things changed. It always does when you start having sex – because God made it that way.
When Hagar discovered she was pregnant, things changed even more. She began to believe that she would now mean more to Abraham and Sarah. But the sad reality is that in Abraham’s and Sarah’s eyes Hagar was always the slave girl, still just a means to an end.
Not only did Hagar not respond as planned, but Sarah did not respond as she thought she would. Sarah could not and did not predict that she would become extremely jealous of Hagar. She watched every night as Abraham went in to Hagar. After a while it started to get to her, no matter how enlightened she thought she was. She kept telling herself it was for a greater cause, but I can guess that something changed in the relationship with her and Hagar as well. Hagar probably started acting less like a slave girl and more like an entitled family member. She probably started using more familiar language with Sarah, and Sarah began to get insecure and jealous.
“Who does this girl think she is? Abraham is my husband! She needs to remember her place!”
When Hagar found out she was pregnant, Sarah may have thought to herself, “I should be happy, but I am not. I am angry that this woman is stealing what should be mine! I hate her!”
These are not the feelings Sarah thought she would have when she laid out the scheme to do God’s job for Him, but that is the problem. We are far too shortsighted to be the Master Planner.
- Our bad decisions give God a bad name.
After Hagar gave birth to her son, Sarah grew jealous and began to treat her badly. I wonder how Hagar saw Sarah’s God then? After all, Sarah must have talked about the Almighty as loving and caring, one who protects and provides for those who follow Him. Yet, here was Sarah treating Hagar with disdain and dislike. People often determine the character of God based on how we His followers treat them.
One of my closest friends had a sign in her kitchen that read, “If mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy!” Those words are true, and Abraham found that out. Sarah demanded that Hagar and Ishmael be sent away because she did not want “that woman” and “that boy” around her precious Isaac. She made life difficult for Abraham. Finally, he reluctantly gave in and sent Hagar and Ishmael away. The crazy thing is that God agreed with Sarah’s conclusion (maybe not her actions) and told Abraham to send them away. Let’s speculate a bit with some understanding of human nature.
Abraham, distressed about having to send Ishmael away, had a conversation with him:
“Son, I really don’t want to do this, but you know Sarah. She is going to make life difficult for me. The truth is I would put up with her, but God told me to send you away, so I must do it.”
What do you think Hagar’s and Ishmael’s impression of God was? I would think that they would believe He did not care about them. They would see Him as mean and vengeful, unkind and manipulative.
Thirty years have passed since that word God gave me regarding my destiny. I have made many of the mistakes that Abraham made, but here is the good news: God’s promises to us are ironclad. He will do what He says He will do. So in the waiting, trust that He will accomplish what He said He will do. Resist the doubt the enemy stirs up that causes us to want to run ahead or give up completely. Abraham may have doubted and made a few missteps along the way, but thankfully he corrected his course, and God was faithful to fulfill His word.
About the Author
Gary Khan served as pastor of Desert Streams Church of the Open Bible in Santa Clarita, California, for 32 years. He currently serves as the Executive Director of Operations for Marketplace Chaplains in Southern California. He also serves on Open Bible’s National Board of Directors and as district director for the Southern California/Arizona/Hawaii district. Gary is author of the devotionals Greater and Reset as well as his soon-to-be-published book, That Didn’t Go the Way I Thought: Navigating the Ups and Downs of Our Journey of Faith. Gary’s greatest achievement and joy is that of being husband to DeLaine for the past 32 years and father of three amazing kids (two biological and one “adopted”).
I wonder what happened on all the August 5ths throughout my life. I experienced forty-seven of them as an innocuous number on the calendars of my life: unremarkable, ordinary, plain. I breezed past them without a thought and left them behind without a thought, too.
I will never forget my forty-eighth August 5th. For the rest of my (hopefully) long life, every 5th day of August will be marked in red and circled with a thick highlighter of remembrance. That is the date my husband Josh and I received the phone call that every parent dreads – the kind you read about in someone else’s story and pray never crosses into your own.
But on August 5, 2025, it did.
Fear is many things at once: a glacial wash that starts on your head and drains to your immobilized feet, a taste in your mouth and a sound in your ears, and a fist that strangles your throat.
We were on top of a mountain in Idaho during a church staff retreat when the Life360 app on my phone — an app our family uses to share locations and receive crash or emergency notifications — suddenly and jarringly blared a warning, alerting me that our middle daughter, Adelaide, was involved in a critical incident.
I cannot explain the cold fear that washed over me in that moment. That kind of fear is many things at once: a glacial wash that starts on your head and drains to your immobilized feet, a taste in your mouth and a sound in your ears, and a fist that strangles your throat.
Many frantic minutes later, a deputy called us to let us know that our daughter was involved in a serious car accident and was not doing well. We continued to learn, as we scrambled off the mountain, that she was being life-flighted to the hospital…and that was all we knew.
For nearly two hours.
Fear does another thing: it slows time down to a minuscule crawl that leaves you weeping, screaming, and shaking your fist at the world as you drive at “safe” speeds to where your daughter lies in an unknown state without you.
I will spare the reader from those moments of agony: the prayers that dripped onto my lap, the pleading and begging, brokenness too intimate for anyone but my Father to understand.
I put on the full armor of God in a way I never understood before and will never misunderstand again.
One of the sweetest moments of my existence is the moment I first saw my daughter’s beautiful face as she lay on the emergency room’s gurney, smeared in blood but oh-so alive. Her voice asking if anyone else was hurt, her precious feet sticking out from the blanket, and her fingers curled in mine. The fifth of August will always hold that breathtaking image in my heart.
Adelaide sustained many traumatic injuries from her accident. For that entire first night in the ICU, I was bent over her in prayer, overwhelmed with both terror and joy, each one warring against the other and trying to take control. I battled in prayer for my girl that night, refusing to back down and contending with ferocity. I put on the full armor of God in a way I never understood before and will never misunderstand again.
I kept repeating the 8th and 9th verses of Isaiah 58, sometimes whispering them, sometimes sobbing them, but always experiencing them. There are promises in the Word that you no longer just read but experience; there is a knowing that changes your entire world.
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness will go before you,
and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.
Then you will call, and the Lord will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: ‘Here am I’ (NIV).
I called out to Jesus, and He didn’t have to run to answer because He was already there, holding not just me in His arms, but Addy as well.
As I called out to Him, He kept saying, “Here am I.” He continued repeating those words, never growing weary of saying them to me— it was His liturgy over me.
“Here am I.”
“Here am I.”
“Here am I.”
I could hear His love, see His protection, and feel His Presence.
The healing He provided was as stunning as the first break of dawn, filling my feeble world with light. Adelaide’s lacerated lungs were miraculously sealed the next morning. Doctors came into her ICU room and were stunned to see my sweet girl smiling back at them, her healing defying the accident she endured. Today, she wears her testimony on her leg in the form of a gnarly scar, and it is proof of the Lord’s providence and healing that she loves to share with others. He guarded Adelaide on every side, and His purpose went before her. The glory of the Lord was her rearguard, and for that, this momma will never stop praising Him.
Every August 5th and each day that He gives.
*To read more from Melissa and what God has taught her through this event, read her related article: Five Things I Didn’t Know I Needed to Learn About Prayer.
About the Author
Melissa Stelly serves as the executive pastor at Turning Point Church in Spokane, Washington, alongside her husband, Josh Stelly. She has attended Turning Point for thirty-four years. She is the mother of three daughters, adores camping, hiking, and adventuring, is a voracious reader, and considers Mt. Rainier one of the greatest accomplishments the Lord created. Most days in her free time you will find her curled up with a good book or taking a long walk.
“Babe, I think we need to steal Christmas.” I said this to my wife, Kelley, as we were driving back from a family celebration. Without any further explanation, she knew I meant that the atmosphere of our family gatherings had left a lot to be desired. It wasn’t that they were bad; in fact, they were fun and filled with love, but we both sensed that commercialism had taken over and God wanted more for us; He was highlighting these family gatherings as spaces where He wanted to be on display.
I continued processing with Kelley: “…On second thought, changing Christmas might be too much for our families to handle, but I think we could probably take over next year’s Thanksgiving celebration. If we start planting the seeds now, then in ten years no one will notice that little by little we’ve taken over planning the big gatherings—until Christmas is just handed to us!”
… it was in this moment that Thanksgiving was reborn for our family.
Kelley looked at me skeptically. Okay, so maybe my plan to steal Christmas was a little ambitious and made me sound like a Pixar villain, but it was in this moment that Thanksgiving was reborn for our family. We brainstormed, we got excited, and Kelley helped wrangle us under God’s wisdom. As we prayed, God showed us a whole new way to gather at the table.
First, the table needed to be extended, both literally and metaphorically. We wanted to combine both sides of our family under one roof (can you say high risk?). Everyone was welcome, and we made sure to personally invite those without family or community. Kelley and I are part of a ministry that focuses on underserved neighborhoods in Toledo, Ohio. There is no shortage of people here who need to be connected to God’s love and see His family in action on days that remind them of trauma, hardship, and pain (including holidays).
Second, old traditions had to die for new ones to be born. Bye-bye, TV trays and football games; hello, giant thankfulness tree. Transparently, it was at this point that I was a little concerned; we were taking on generations of tradition, and I still wasn’t sure how to put God on display like He wanted to be. That was when He showed us the big one: The Food. Goodbye, turkey, mashed potatoes, and green bean casserole.
A new tradition was born. Instead of the traditional Thanksgiving meal, we picked a foreign culture and tried our hand at making their traditional dishes, desserts, and drinks. We adopted their games, played their music, and decorated our home with their colors. It was a huge risk, and it was a hit!
As we prayed, God showed us a whole new way to gather at the table.
After several years of these reinvented Thanksgivings, both our family and neighbors are fully on board. Each year, everyone at the table votes on the next cultural cuisine, and now, eight years in, Thanksgiving has become a highlight tradition. People dress up, experiment with exotic dishes, invite friends, and—most importantly—shower one another with love. Some years the gathering has grown so large we’ve even had to find a new venue.
Our “thankfulness tree,” built by Kelley, has become the centerpiece of the gathering. Each person writes down what they’re grateful for, shares it, and adds their leaf. And year after year we’ve saved them, creating a beautiful archive of gratitude. Neighbors without family have joined us too, finding a place to share thanks, receive prayer, and encounter God’s love through new traditions. Along the way, we’ve cooked some unforgettable meals, and one of my favorite moments has been watching people set aside hesitation to try something new when the familiar comforts aren’t on the table. That kind of openness has sparked amazing conversations about God, suffering, love, and family.
God has been on full display, His table extended, His traditions for us established, and His love something I am truly thankful for.
(Oh, and did we just so happen to host Christmas at our house last year? You betcha.)
About the Author
Corey Bern resides in the often overlooked rustbelt city of Toledo, Ohio, where he savors beautiful moments with his daughter, Liberty, and beautiful wife, Kelley. Corey serves as associate pastor of Washington Church as well as director of The Lewis House, an inner-city ministry that partners with Open Bible Churches. When he isn’t walking alongside others on their journey to the Father’s heart, he’s often hidden away in the world’s coolest under-the-stairs office with a good book—or helping Liberty baptize Barbies.
“Your father’s kidney is no longer functioning in your body, but twenty-one years is a good run. You need to start dialysis.”
That wasn’t the deal I had made with the Lord. When I received my kidney transplant from my dad, he was the perfect match. I was fourteen years old and had been sick for too long; I wanted to be a normal kid. I had been born with kidney disease, and doctors had no hope for me. They had transferred that hopelessness to my parents. My dad reminds me all the time how he questioned God: “Was it my sins or my wife’s sins that brought on this disease?”
God clearly answered him the way Jesus replied in John 9:3: “It was not because of his sins or his parents’ sins,” Jesus answered. “This happened so the power of God could be seen in him.” I found it interesting that the one who asked (my dad) was the one who gave. His gift of a kidney lasted twenty-one years, which was a miracle in itself. The average kidney transplant lasts twelve to fifteen years. While twenty-one years was a miracle, I wasn’t satisfied: my father’s kidney was supposed to last until God called me home. God was supposed to heal me.
On February 17, 2022, I sat in a dialysis chair for the first time in twenty-one years, overwhelmed by fear of what lay ahead. A doctor and social worker assured me their goal was to get me a new kidney quickly. Their confidence comforted me; I believed God had placed me in a facility where things would move smoothly and quickly.
After nine months of hearing nothing, a new social worker finally told me I was on the UCSF transplant list. I’ll never forget it—my husband said it was the best wedding anniversary gift. We were thrilled, believing we were one step closer to a new kidney. But on December 30, everything changed. The social worker told me I was not on the list after all and needed to call UCSF to check on my application status.
I wasn’t satisfied: my father’s kidney was supposed to last until God called me home. God was supposed to heal me.
What had felt like a glimmer of hope was gone in just a few weeks, and I was crushed. On January 3, 2023, I called UCSF, and the woman who answered was kind and encouraging, saying, “Let’s make sure we get you a kidney. You’re too young to be going through this.”
I met with doctors, nurses, and the transplant team over Zoom to assess if I was mentally and physically ready for a transplant. They informed me the wait for a kidney could be five to nine years, and when the meeting was over, I still had no assurance of a place on the transplant list. With that news, my strength started to wear thin, but I kept praying, trusting that somehow God would help me through whatever lay ahead.
In His strength, I returned to teaching with a smile, determined to make the most of the next five to nine years as I poured into my second graders and their future. As the worship pastor at Life Church in Concord, California, I encouraged others not to lose confidence in God, even when things felt out of control.
In June 2023, I attended the Open Bible National Convention in Texas on the very days I normally had dialysis. I went against medical advice, not realizing how much God had in store. The conference began on Tuesday, and I felt unusually tired and heavy-hearted. I wondered, “What if this is it? What if the deal I made with God was to keep going for the next five to nine years, and then He would take me home?”
That night, I shared those thoughts with my husband. I wasn’t giving up, I was simply accepting what I thought was God’s plan. I reminded him that despite all our prayers, my mom and his mom had both gone home to be with Jesus. I was learning that life is precious, but we don’t always get the answer we hope for. Still, I wasn’t defeated; I was fighting my way forward, bearing the bruises and scars of a warrior.
The next morning, a group of women prayed over me, asking God to release a miracle and heal me from needing dialysis. Their prayer stirred my spirit, though my body still felt weary. That night during worship as “Firm Foundation” played, tears streamed down my face. My spirit believed God wouldn’t fail, but my body felt the weight of exhaustion and the marks of treatment.
I heard God say clearly, … “I’m hitting the reset button. Get ready.”
After the service, I saw Tirsa, a missionary from Nicaragua who had visited our church when I was young. She knew my mom, and that connection meant everything. She prayed boldly for a miracle, that I would no longer need dialysis. I felt in my spirit that I needed to be prayed for by Angie Sissel, one of my spiritual mothers. As I waited for her, my eyes kept being drawn to the green circle in that year’s conference theme. I heard God say clearly, “I’m hitting the reset button.” I asked if He meant my kidneys, but He simply repeated, “I’m hitting the reset button. Get ready.”
When “Momma Angie” prayed over me, her husband, Pastor Derek Sissel, shared a word from the Lord. He looked me in the eyes and said, “God’s not done with you. There’s still fire inside you. Stop thinking He’s finished.” Tears ran down my face. He had no way of knowing what I’d said in private the night before, but God had heard me. I called my husband that night and told him everything.
Thursday brought a surprise. During our free time, my husband told me to answer the unknown number that had been calling because it might be the hospital. When I finally answered, it was the transplant team. They told me a kidney might be available the next day. I explained I was in Texas, but they said it was fine, I was second in line. If the person ahead of me wasn’t a match, the kidney would be mine.
All day, I kept my phone close. During the Convention’s evening reception, they called again, not to confirm the kidney yet, but to make sure I was still reachable. I stayed on edge, waiting.
Friday morning, we flew home. As soon as we landed and were driving home, the call came: “Mrs. Wolfe? The kidney is yours. Please be at the hospital by 4:30 p.m. for your final dialysis treatment, then head to UCSF.”
I jumped up and down in my seat, telling everyone in the van, “My kidney is on its way!” I called my husband, and he told his boss, “I need to go get my wife; she’s getting her kidney today!”
On June 17, 2023, I received my transplant—a gift I know came straight from the Lord. It all happened so fast I didn’t have time to question the fact that it came from someone who had passed. I later learned it came from a young person. I know their family must have experienced immense pain, but I am deeply grateful. Because of their generosity, I have life again. I can teach, lead worship, and now preach.
After I returned home and began recovering, I received a letter from UCSF. It said I had been placed on the transplant list as of June 6, 2023, just ten days prior to the phone call that informed me I’d been given a kidney. Ten days. After losing nearly a year and a half of my life, God needed only ten days to give me a kidney. It reminded me—He’s not done with me. It was my mom’s time to go home and my mother-in-law’s too. But not mine.
Now, whenever an opportunity comes, I say yes. God gave me life—again—so He can fulfill His promises and purpose through me. If He isn’t done with my story, I know He’s not done with yours. Pray, lean in, surrender the outcome, and He will surprise you! He’s not done.
Mary Lou Wolfe is a worship pastor, preaching team lead, and second grade teacher at Life Church in Concord, California. She has been married to her husband, Chris, for twelve years and their goldendoodle, Brock, is almost two years old. She was born and raised in the Bay Area. Her dad, Ricardo, is from El Salvador and her mom, Jenny, was from Nicaragua. At the age of nine, Mary Lou and her parents moved to a Hispanic Church in Antioch, California. Templo Santo was her home church and sent her to Eugene Bible College, where she graduated in 2009. Since then, she has been in ministry, never losing her heritage and always having a heart for her people. She speaks, writes, and reads in Spanish. She is grateful that her parents taught her to hold tight to her heritage, never forgetting where she came from or where God is taking her.
