The jarring sound of my cell phone woke me up from a deep sleep in the middle of the night. My first reaction was fear. Was someone hurt? Was there an emergency of some sort? I grabbed the phone and answered still groggy with sleep.

“Pastor John, this is Ben Mitchell.”

Ben was a new visitor to our church and coming to our Alpha Course. He was a self-declared atheist mostly because he witnessed firsthand the slow, painful death of his little sister, Sorrell, as she succumbed to cancer.

“Hello Ben, what is it? Are you alright?”

“I’m sorry to wake you but I had to talk to you right away,” Ben said. “Karina was in a car accident and she’s in the County General Hospital. I’m not sure she’s going to make it. Can you come?”

“Of course. I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I said. “I’ll find you.”

Poor Ben. First, it was his eight-year-old sister, Sorrell, and now his older sister Karina. I threw a quick prayer into the heavens as I got dressed quietly and slipped out of the house without waking anyone else.

The County Hospital wasn’t far away, and the traffic was light, so I was there in no time. I saw Ben sitting, rather dejectedly, in a chair in the waiting room and I walked up to him. He stood up and I hugged him tightly.

“Talk to me,” I said. “Tell me how she’s doing and what happened.”

Apparently, a drunk driver had hit her car head-on. He walked away without a scratch, but Karina was in a coma with her life in the balance. There was nothing anyone could do but wait. And pray.

Ben wasn’t a Christian. He didn’t believe in God and thought God was a monster for letting his sister, Sorrell, die a horrible death. And now Karina. I wondered what God was up to. This didn’t sound promising for bringing Ben into the kingdom. But I tried anyway.

“Would you like me to pray for her?”

Ben just nodded. He was in shock and was willing to grasp any ray of hope. I took a few moments to pray for Karina and then looked up to see Ben’s mother walk into the emergency room. I let them talk for a few minutes while I went in search of a cup of coffee.

A few hours later the doctors came out and reported that Karina was stable but still in a coma and they were not optimistic about her recovery. That was a blow. I quickly looked at Ben to see how he was taking it but his face was scowling as if he was angry. I didn’t blame him.

Ben’s mother was a Christian and I knew her a bit from other encounters although she went to a different church. Ben’s father was not around. Karina was his only other sibling. There was no one else.

I prayed silently for a miracle. I knew that this was a crucial moment for Ben in his journey towards faith and I wasn’t quite sure how God was going to use this situation to get through to him. But I knew he would.

For some reason, I was convinced that this situation with Karina was meant to be a witness for Ben. The more I thought about it, the more I was sure that a miracle was meant to happen. I don’t know why. Was it just wishful thinking? Or was this from God? The conviction kept growing in me and I couldn’t ignore it.

“Ben,” I said. “I need to talk to you.” I took him by the arm and led him to a few chairs in a corner where we would have some privacy. “Actually, I need to pray with you.”

Ben looked at me skeptically. “You know that all of this just confirms what I have been telling you,” he said.

“That God is a monster, and you don’t believe in him anymore?”

“Exactly.”

“Then why did you call me and ask me to come?”

Ben just shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I was just hoping I was wrong.”

“But now that it looks like Karina might die, you believe you were right about God all along?”

He nodded his head but didn’t want to look me in the eye.

“Well, I’m here to tell you that you are wrong,” I said. “I’m not the kind of Pastor that believes in miracles whenever we want them. That usually isn’t how God works.”

“Miracles?”

“But I believe that God is going to do a miracle with Karina and it’s going to happen right now.” What was I getting myself into? I don’t talk like this. But I couldn’t stop myself.

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” I said. “You can believe it or not, that’s up to you. But I am going to pray for a miracle for Karina right now.” I bent my head and spoke with God and asked him for a miracle in the life of Karina and that he would do it immediately.

Suddenly, there was a beeping noise in the nurse’s station and people started to scurry around and there was activity in the room where Karina was staying. Ben looked down the hall from his seat beside me with wide eyes. Then he stood up and started to look for someone who could tell him what was going on. It took another twenty long minutes before a doctor finally came out to talk with the family.

“Your daughter is out of danger,” the doctor said to Ben’s mother. “We aren’t exactly sure what happened, but she came out of her coma, and she is responding well. It looks like she will make it.”

With that, the doctor hurried off to attend to other patients and we all just turned to look at each other, then came the hugs and tears. I started to move away to give the family some privacy, but Ben looked at me briefly as if to say that we needed to talk. Which, of course, we would. But another day.

The next day he was in my living room with a cup of coffee in his hands and ready to get to the bottom of what had happened. I decided to let him struggle with the event for a bit before I gave him my two cents worth.

“So, tell me how Karina is doing?”

“The doctors are calling it a miracle,” Ben said. “They’ve never seen anything like it. They would have sworn that Karina wouldn’t have made it, but she seems to be doing very well now.”

“I’m glad,” I said, and then shut up.

Silence.

“So, aren’t you going to tell me this was the miracle you prayed for?”

“What do you think?”

Ben shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what to think. It could just be a coincidence. The doctors said that these things sometimes happen.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” I said. “But that’s not the real question, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“What you are really asking yourself,” I said, “is why Karina and not Sorrell.”

Ben was sitting forward, his arms on his knees but now he just looked at the carpet and I saw a tear escape from his eyes. “Or why not both?” It was only a whisper, but I heard it.

There was nothing to say.

“Well, this doesn’t mean I’m going to believe in God all of a sudden,” Ben said.

“No, of course not.”

“And I’m not convinced that this was a miracle either,” he said a bit belligerently.

“I didn’t expect you would be.”

He looked at me with blazing eyes. “Then what was the point?”

“The point of what? The miracle?” I said. “Perhaps just to save Karina’s life. God must have more work for her to do before he calls her home.”

“No, not that. You coming to pray with me and telling me that you were going to pray for a miracle right then and there and then something happens.”

“You mean a miracle happened?”

“Whatever. What was the point of all that drama?”

“To get your attention, I suppose. That’s usually what signs and wonders are for. After all, how could I know that Karina was going to suddenly get better right at that moment.”

“Humph.”

“Miracles don’t usually convince people that God exists and that they should become believers. They are more for people who are already Christians.”

“Then why do one for me?”

“You think it was for you?”

“You don’t?”

Silence. I wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, and I asked God for guidance on what to say next. Nothing came.

“Karina was trying to convince me the other day that God loves me the way that I am.” Ben’s face screwed up a bit at the memory, trying not to cry. “I gave her a hard time about it and even mocked her for it.” He couldn’t look me In the eye, but I just let him talk.

“That was the last time I talked to her before the accident.” He let out a shuddering breath. “I thought that was going to be my last memory of her. Mocking her and then seeing her start to cry. I just left.”

“That’s why the miracle was for you?” I said. “So that wouldn’t be your last memory of Karina?”

Ben took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Ok, Let’s say that God has my attention,” he said. “What do I do now?”

“So, are you saying that God exists? That you’re not an atheist anymore?”

“Maybe,” Ben said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m a believer, either.”

“What does it mean then?”

He was quiet for a long moment. “That I’m willing to listen to his side of the story.”

I sat there with a smile on my face. It was always amazing to me how God gets through to the human heart. What we think is a disaster, he turns into a miracle. When we think all hope is lost, he breaks through the darkness with the light of his love.

That’s what this was all about. The love of God for Ben Mitchell. God’s love wins. It always wins in the long run.

This is the great discovery of the human heart in this journey of faith that God is incredibly beautiful, transparently good, and overwhelmingly in love with us. He showed us on a hill outside of Jerusalem when he died for his enemies to save them from their own sin and folly. He teaches us the joy of suffering for the gospel to share his love with others. It is strange and wonderful and grows within you day by day as you experience the love of God for people while you practice the ministry of reconciliation.

It is easy to consider God a monster when you look at all of the hurt and suffering around us. It is normal to blame him for everything that happens to us and our loved ones. No doubt. But it isn’t true. There is a war going on for the human heart. There is evil afoot and danger on every side. Until we understand that we are a world at war with God, we don’t understand anything.

It is the love of God that makes the battle worthwhile. The most beautiful girl and the most handsome boy are no comparison for his beauty, and his love for us. We get a taste of it when we fall in love. We see a glimpse of it when we hold our children in our arms. We see it clearly in the unexpected joy of a miracle that saves a loved one from death. We see the face of God in every beautiful sunrise, every glorious landscape, in the intricacies of nature, and even in the depths of the human soul.

But that beauty and that love, which is God’s glory, his true character, is most clearly demonstrated in the deadliest part of the war on a cross more than two thousand years ago, in a garden even before the cross, in a life lived in love for his Father. There we see most clearly that God is not a monster but a lover, a friend, a Father who is fighting tooth and nail to save us from the second death so that we can enjoy Him forever.

That is the point after all. Joy.

It may sound romantic, and it is. We certainly experience joy when we fall in love. But when it comes to God, it seems like a distant dream, a far-off country that we can only hope to find. Do not despair. This is what love is all about. God’s love wins. Not ours.

When we value him above all things, when he becomes the pearl of great price, when we finally recognize that all of our longings and dreams, and desires have their true fulfillment in Him, then we are on the edge of that far-off country. But it is God who is our guide and our faithful companion on the road to that rekindled desire for Him.

Love reaching out and enticing a response of love in the other. Desire purified and focused on Him. All other ambitions laid aside. All other dreams put to rest to focus on the one thing that matters the most. That is the transformation that brings us joy in the midst of suffering, peace in the storm, and hope in the face of evil and death. And that is the testimony that God uses to change other human hearts as they hear the good news.

Car accidents may come. Pain and suffering and even death may be the result but, in the end, for those who truly understand the price that He paid to save us, only one conclusion is left to us. God’s love wins. Period.

Part One: God is an Atheist