Hello, dear listeners! On my way to the radio station today, a thought suddenly came to me: How is it that God — despite all my inadequacies — has made it possible for me to meet you, the listeners, through a Christian radio station? This truly is a miracle. Just a few years ago, I could never have imagined such a thing. I found myself quietly giving thanks to God, alone in the car. No matter how I look at it, there is no other word for what this is but a miracle. Even now, when I listen back to my own broadcasts, I blush with embarrassment at how lacking they are. And yet there are listeners who tune in and offer their love — that, too, is nothing short of a miracle.

We tend to use the word miracle when something completely unexpected happens — something that surpasses our experience, our expectations, our reason. We marvel, we tilt our heads in wonder, and eventually we arrive at: God did this. And in that moment, we come to fully trust and acknowledge Him.

Reading through the Bible, we encounter many events that stretch far beyond human comprehension — the ten plagues God sent through Moses, the countless miracles performed for the nation of Israel, the parting of the Red Sea, Jesus healing the sick and raising the dead, Peter walking on water. These are events that transcend human reason entirely. And so those who do not know God say, “Where is God? Prove it — show me with my own eyes.” We believers do our best to explain, pointing to all of creation — and yet some cannot understand, and cannot believe.

But I want to say clearly today: the miracles God performs for human beings are still happening — abundantly, all around us. In daily life. In the lives of fellow believers. We see and experience with our own eyes the power of a God who holds both life and death in His hands. Among the many miracles I could share, there is one I must tell you about today.

The local Valley Stream town newspaper — in the community on Long Island where I live — ran a major front-page story under the headline: “Teen Girl’s Miraculous Recovery.” Because the young woman at the center of this story is a member of our congregation, I can share it with you as a firsthand witness.

The article began this way:

“Last week, a Valley Stream resident was accepted into the Juilliard School’s prestigious pre-college program. The sixteen-year-old had already been recognized at her high school as an accomplished cellist, and her friends describe her as outstanding in every way. But this time, she has given more people than ever reason to marvel — because nearly a year ago, last August, she entered a coma caused by a viral brain infection and remained there for two and a half months. At the time, doctors said she might never wake up.”

Here is what happened. Last August 9th, the young woman — let us call her Miss Lee — set off with her mother and her college-aged sister to visit family in Korea during summer vacation. She had been planning to return home on August 20th to join soccer team practice at her school. Before leaving, she had seemed to have a slight cold. On the thirteen-hour flight, she slept the entire way without waking once. Her family assumed she might be airsick, and upon arriving in Korea they stopped at a clinic for a brief checkup, where she was given antibiotics.

Two days later, the family went out to a restaurant to celebrate Miss Lee’s birthday. She kept wanting to sleep and occasionally vomited. The family still assumed it was the strong cold medicine, or that the cold simply needed more time to pass — no one yet sensed anything truly serious.

When her older sister had to return to the United States and the family drove to Gimpo Airport to see her off, Miss Lee kept repeating the same question over and over: “Is it daytime? Is it nighttime?” Because she was normally such a jokester, her family actually scolded her — “Stop fooling around!” But at the airport, she said very little to her sister and was unusually quiet, and the family knew then that something was clearly wrong. On the way back from the airport, her mother stopped at a Red Cross hospital and asked for a more thorough examination, requesting an MRI. But it was too small a facility to have that equipment. After a weekend there, Miss Lee was transferred to a larger hospital — and from that point, her condition deteriorated rapidly. She could no longer breathe on her own. Her fever climbed. And she slipped into a coma.

The doctors told the family: “If she does not wake within three weeks, even if she eventually does regain consciousness, she will suffer brain damage and some form of permanent physical disability.” Her parents refused to accept this. Her mother never left her side — twenty-four hours a day. When the fever spiked, she gave alcohol baths. She massaged her daughter’s entire body with her own hands. She prayed without ceasing. And she spoke to her daughter constantly — even though the child could not move at all. Her father flew back and forth between the United States and Korea, praying for his daughter’s recovery, never giving up for a single moment. Back at our church in America, the entire congregation cried out to God for Miss Lee during Sunday worship, at early morning prayer, at Wednesday services, at every gathering. Fasts were undertaken. Prayers of dedication were offered, one after another.

Two and a half months passed this way. No one could predict when — or whether — she would wake, or when the family would be able to return home to America. And then one day, her mother happened to notice that the feeding tube running through Miss Lee’s nose had come loose. She called a nurse to reinsert it — and suddenly Miss Lee cried out: “Stop it!” Then fell silent again, back into the coma, as though nothing had happened. It was startling and sudden — but it was a signal that life was still present within her. One week later, her fingers began to move — barely perceptibly at first — and slowly, gradually, she began to surface from the coma.

When Miss Lee finally came out of the coma, the family’s joy was beyond words. Yet even in that joy, a new anxiety took hold — had her memory been damaged? Had her brain been harmed? She was like a one-year-old. She recognized her mother but had no memory of her father’s face at all. She had to be taught to walk again — if left on her own, she stumbled and fell into things.

The joy of her waking was real, but the question that weighed on everyone — her doctors, her family, her congregation — was: how fully would she recover? Prayer continued. We searched earnestly for the purpose that God, who had brought her back from the coma, surely had in mind.

Last Thanksgiving, we were moved to tears again — Miss Lee came home to America. We had imagined she might arrive in a wheelchair, or carried on a stretcher. But she walked out of the airport on her own two feet and walked through the door of her home. When the congregation gathered to welcome her, the joy was like receiving a child back from the dead.

What followed was a remarkable effort by her parents. The child who had spent two and a half months asleep now could not sleep at all. Sleeping medication had no effect. Because she could not sleep for days at a time, her parents took turns watching over her around the clock. They soothed her — this fully grown daughter who had become like an infant again — and kept her on a regular schedule of exercise. They arranged for friends to visit her, one or two at a time, hoping to reawaken her memories. At first she recognized no one. But gradually, faces came back to her, and the past returned piece by piece. Her parents placed her cello — the instrument she had played all her life — somewhere she would see it every time she passed. For a while she would touch the strings occasionally, pluck them absently. Then one day the memory surfaced — I used to play this well — and she began drawing closer to it. First short pieces. Then longer ones. Memory by memory, note by note, she came back. She began attending school part-time, only for art and music, to build her tolerance gradually. Early this year, believing that a clear goal would aid her recovery, her parents encouraged her to audition for Juilliard — and arranged private lessons. She went on to earn honors in English, Spanish, art, and orchestra.

Through the moment-by-moment cooperation of her family, the support of friends and school, and the unceasing prayers and love of the congregation, God restored Miss Lee completely.

When she first arrived home from Korea, I visited her with our pastor. In that visit, she told us clearly: while she was in the coma, she had seen a holy hand holding her. Her parents confirmed it — they remembered that during her recovery from the coma, they had heard her murmuring in what seemed like delirium: “The holy hand… the holy hand…”

What else can we call this but a miracle?

“Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” — Psalm 23:4

Look back over your own life. No one can honestly deny that every step of the journey here has been a continuous thread of miracles and wonders. The fact that among so many people, you have found your footing in a new land and are raising your children — that too is a miracle. And more: that we can speak, and walk, and think, and eat — all of it is God’s love, woven through miracle after miracle.

In Hosea 11:3, the Lord says: “It was I who taught Ephraim to walk, taking them by the arms; but they did not realize it was I who healed them.”

Dear listeners — do you feel it? In the steps of every single day, God is gently teaching us to walk, holding us in His arms, and healing us. Is there a place in your life today where a miracle is needed? Do not give up. God is the King of kings — the Almighty, the Comforter, the Victor — and nothing is beyond Him. That we are alive, sharing love, leaning on one another — this is itself one of the great miracles. When we feel it, and live in it, every single day becomes a day we cannot help but give thanks.

— Wanhee Yoon, July 14, 1998