God Met Me at the Right Time
- meetgodattheedgeof
- Jul 2
- 3 min read
Today's testimony is brought to you by my Heavenly Father.
Today I feel compelled to share my testimony—not my most recent account of the Lord's miracles or direction, but the beginning. Condensed, of course.
My dad worked, and my mom stayed home to raise five kids. I was the middle child, and all that meant to me was that I got crap from both my younger and older siblings. It felt like blaming me was just the thing to do.
From my earliest memories, we were at church. My dad had found his people there. The story goes that it took a couple of guys from church coming to our house to convince my dad to give it a try. What a powerful picture of love and brotherhood—something I feel is missing in a lot of men today.
I made a lot of friends at church, and we enjoyed being part of that church family. The issue for me began when I was around 18. I was told that if I lived in my parents' house, I had to attend church. That's not a bad thing. I already knew I enjoyed it, but being ordered to go completely changed the dynamic.
I suddenly didn't care to go. I'd leave as soon as the service ended and head to my friend's house instead. I resented being told to attend because I was rebellious. By this time, my dad had served as a Deacon and was now an Elder in the church. He truly loved people the way God intended and fulfilled those roles faithfully. I had no excuse for my behavior, but I felt distant and slowly lost my connection and desire to be at church.
So, when I could finally decide for myself, I stopped going.
Looking back, I can see that I had adopted my dad's faith, but I had never made it my own. The Lord gave me many opportunities, but I didn't respond. Eventually, I left California and drove across the country to Rhode Island to start over. I thought I needed to be somewhere no one knew me so I could begin again. Silly kid.
A few years later, a failed relationship brought me back to California and back into my dad's influence. I immediately realized how much I had missed. Over time, our relationship was restored.
Then I came to the biggest fork in the road of my life.
My dad, who was one of my best friends, was dying. This unshakable rock in my life was slowly falling apart physically, yet his faith only became stronger. How can someone stare death in the face, care more about others than themselves, and somehow find joy? It was truly supernatural.
After my father's death, I was deeply wounded. The God I thought I knew wouldn't have allowed my dad to suffer and die like that. Once my mind began wrestling with those questions, the Lord knew I would eventually encounter the truth. Then I would have to decide: do I drink myself to death, or do I go to church?
My beautiful wife was incredibly supportive and convinced me to visit a church that her friend had recommended.
The night my dad died, we listened to his favorite song, "It Is Well with My Soul."
The very first Sunday I stepped into church after many years, the worship team began playing that same song. It took everything in me not to sob like a little baby.
Then I felt arms wrap around me, squeezing me tightly just like my dad used to. But there was no one there.
It was my Heavenly Father letting me know He was with me. Looking back now, I know God met me at the right time. Those hugs had always belonged to Him.
From that night on, I was set on a path of discovering more and more about the Lord because a fire had been ignited in me. There is so much more to my testimony than this, but if it were much longer, I don't think anyone would read it.
I can confidently say that God met me at the right time, in exactly the right place. His timing was perfect, even when I couldn't see it.
Thank you, Father, for one more day. Amen.
