New Hope Community Church

This is how old I was when my hand got crushed and my dad prayed for me.

My dad and I were out fishing on a little lake in our hometown. My dad loves fishing. Always has. I remember it being early evening, the sun going down. Just one of those really good nights. People were at the dock with their kids, dogs running around. We had just finished a fun day on the water.

As we were loading up, my dad went to lift the marine battery out of the boat. It weighs about 70 pounds. His footing slipped and the battery dropped straight onto my pinky while my hand was holding the edge of the boat. I’ll never forget the sound and the feeling. It was like crunching a chip between your teeth. I screamed. My finger went completely numb. The skin was hanging and it didn’t even look like a finger anymore.

What I remember most though is my dad’s reaction. He didn’t panic. He didn’t freak out. He wrapped his arms around me and there was this peace I can’t really explain. It wasn’t human. It was the fruit of his relationship with God. He started praying and gently holding my finger, almost molding it back into place. People were standing off at a distance watching this kid scream and then suddenly go quiet.

And then I realized I wasn’t crying anymore. The bone was a bone again. The blue and black color started fading. It actually looked like a finger. I looked up at my dad and said, “Daddy, it sure is a good thing we know Jesus.” He just held me there as the sun was going down.

That moment marked me for life. It was one of the first times God revealed His power and love to me as a little boy.