Miracles Everywhere
Have you noticed lately how crowded our pews seem? Not merely filled with people, prayer books, and hymnals—but overflowing with stories. Miraculous stories of healing, hope, joy, reconciliation, and resurrection.
On Sunday, I invited us all to pause mid-sermon (truly miraculous—me pausing!) to look around at the fullness of the Body of Christ gathered here. Right there in our midst, within each pew, sat living testimonies of God's relentless grace and countless miracles.
Among us are friends who walk and speak clearly after debilitating strokes, each step quietly singing gratitude. Hearts now beat steadily and strong after facing serious cardiac challenges—every pulse a quiet "Amen" of restoration. Loneliness gives way to friendship, estrangements dissolve into embraces, and survivors of trauma awaken to mornings filled with unexpected peace.
But those beautiful stories only scratch the surface. Here are just a few more shared with permission, anonymized for privacy:
Recently, a woman shared her extraordinary journey. Since childhood, debilitating anxiety had held her captive, resistant to every imaginable medication and therapy. Daily panic attacks isolated her from family and friends who, she said, had grown weary of her struggle. Then quietly, without fanfare, she woke one morning realizing a month had passed without a single panic attack. No new medication or groundbreaking therapy—just the gentle, subtle, astonishing work of God. She called it "her miracle," and indeed it was.
Nearly a year ago, another parishioner confided to me that he was getting divorced and seeking another church, allowing his wife and adult children the freedom to worship here peacefully. Addiction, betrayal, and neglect had deeply damaged their family. They disappeared from our midst, until Easter Sunday when I joyfully spotted the entire family sitting together in a pew. Passing by during the procession, I gave a discreet wink. At the door, as he departed, he grasped my hand and said softly, “God can do amazing things, Father.” The divorce never happened. A gifted marriage counselor and their courage to forgive became their miracle.
Just this past Sunday, someone approached during our healing prayer line, not asking for healing, but to offer thanksgiving. A stubborn bone graft had finally "taken," and she would soon walk unassisted for the first time in nine months.
My own son Jeremiah faced a summer of couch confinement and video games rather than pool swims and playground adventures after breaking his foot at school in four places. Yet, miraculously, last Friday the orthopedist told him to discard the boot—the bones had healed. Summer's joy is restored.
Even the smallest gestures become miracles when God is involved. One lady joyfully recounted how four church friends remembered her birthday, calling her for the first time in over a decade. Her sparkling eyes declared it a miracle, and indeed her joy was radiant.
Two parishioners confided they are facing surgery for cancer. Both feel deeply blessed, as their cancers were discovered purely by accident—doctors searching for something else entirely stumbled upon them early, when treatment and recovery are achievable. What miraculous grace!
Miracles aren’t just confined to ancient texts or distant lands—they happen right here and right now among us. Each kindness, every quiet reconciliation, each unexpected joy, and every healing—big or small—is a sign of God’s grace bursting through ordinary life, miraculously.
So let us open our eyes wider and soften our hearts more deeply, for miracles do not announce themselves loudly; rather, they tiptoe quietly into our lives, take their seats beside us, and gently remind us that God is endlessly at work. Indeed, the pew beside you might be holding your next miracle—so pay attention and rejoice, for God’s quiet miracles are everywhere.
Pax et Bonum!
Fr. Ben +
