A Treasury of Miracles for Teens

  “An angel, Son,” his father said as his mother took them both in her arms.

  “God was watching out for you,” she said. “See, he brought you home to us.”

  Brian nodded. “Things are going to be different now. You watch.”

  Brian returned to school that week and a few months later, his faith renewed, he was baptized in the local river. After graduating, he moved to Southern California where he spent two years working as a professional prizefighter before being drafted. Brian served in World War II with the Navy. He took part in twenty-eight combat missions in the South Pacific, and after the war he returned to New Orleans, where he became a minister with one of the largest congregations in the city.

  Never again did he see the black man who rescued him that terrifying afternoon. But Brian is convinced that his father was right. Not only did God have great plans for his life, but he assigned Brian a guardian angel to make sure those plans would be carried out.

  “My entire life would be different if it weren’t for that single afternoon,” says Brian, whose faith and love for God is always evident these days. “I was a teenage boy with no direction, and God used that angel not only to save my life but to change it into something that could glorify him forever.”

  On God’s Strength Alone

  Krista Barrows loved to shop. Even more, she loved that these days she could drive to the mall by herself. No more waiting on friends for rides, no more begging her parents if they’d take her shopping. Just after her seventeenth birthday, she’d bought a used Toyota, and now, with her parents’ permission, she was free to shop whenever the need arose.

  In fact, life was just about perfect that Christmas season. She attended North Bay High School in San Francisco, where she played flute in the marching band and had recently had the lead role in the school’s fall drama production. North Bay was small and Krista knew just about everyone. She was a junior and could hardly wait for her senior year.

  It was a week before Christmas and Krista needed to do some shopping. She wanted to buy presents for her parents and two brothers, and something small for her teachers. Then there were half a dozen close friends who planned to exchange gifts with her. But the present she was most excited to find was an engraved picture frame for her boyfriend. The two knew each other from their church’s youth group and they’d been friends for years. They’d only started dating in the past few months, but Krista wanted to find him something special for Christmas.

  As she drove to the mall late that afternoon, Krista ran through the things she needed to find. As much as she loved shopping, she hoped she could finish buying for her list before the stores closed.

  The hours passed quickly, though, and Krista still had three more presents to find when the mall announced it was closing. She picked up her pace. How had it gotten so late? She hated being at the mall when it closed, not just because it made her feel rushed but because it wasn’t safe. Her parents had warned her just that afternoon.

  “If you’ll be out late, take a friend.” Her mother had patted her hand, her smile warm and gentle. “Mall parking lots are dangerous after hours, especially during the holidays.”

  The warning rang through Krista’s heart as she headed for the cash register. In ten minutes she’d made it through the line, gathered three bags in her arms, and dug through her purse for her car keys. Hurry, Krista, she told herself. Why hadn’t she brought her mother’s cell phone? That way she could at least call and tell them she was on her way. They were probably worried sick about how late she was out.

  Outside, Krista walked across the dark, cold parking lot, still fumbling for her keys. Lost in her search, she barely noticed in her peripheral vision something move up ahead near her car. Finally her fingers wrapped around her keys and she looked up. The parking lot was nearly empty. Why had she parked so far away? She glanced about, her heart beating faster than before. Then she picked up her pace.

  In daylight, she might not have worried about her safety in such a situation. But now, in the pitch dark and all alone in the parking lot, Krista was suddenly frightened. Trying to stay focused, she took quick steps toward her Toyota, opened the door, and climbed inside.

  Suddenly, a masked man appeared a few feet from her window. His eyes were wild and he was pointing a gun at her. He took a few hurried steps toward her car, and motioned for her to open the door. With trembling hands, Krista locked her door and tried to start her car. Nothing happened. The man banged his gun against her window as Krista turned the key again. Again, silence. The engine was completely dead.

  “Please, God!” she whispered. “I need your help!”

  The man smashed the gun against her window another time, this time cracking the glass. Closing her eyes, Krista tried once more to start the car, and finally the engine turned over. In an instant, Krista slammed the car into gear and sped off, leaving the man in the shadows.

  Krista cried the entire way home. What had the man wanted from her? And how long had he been waiting by her car? Even stranger, why hadn’t her car started the first time she turned the key? The engine was in perfect condition, according to their family’s mechanic. Whatever happened back there, God, thanks for getting me through it.

  She was still shaking when she pulled into her driveway, shut off the engine, and headed up the walkway. A shudder worked its way through her as she imagined the things that man might have done if he’d been able to break her window and get inside. Still feeling weak, she made her way inside. There she tearfully shared the incident with her parents.

  Immediately, her father called the police. When he’d made a report, he turned to Krista. “You’re safe now,” he told her as he hugged her tight.

  “But I thought …” Krista’s crying became sobs.

  “God was looking out for you, honey.” Her mother reached out and took her hand. “He helped you get away … I have no doubt about that.”

  Krista’s father cocked his head. “You say the car wouldn’t start?”

  “Right. It was weird, Dad. It was like it was broken or something.”

  “Let’s go take a look at it.” Her father grabbed a flashlight and led the way back outside to where Krista’s Toyota was parked in the driveway. “I can’t understand why it would have done that. The mechanic just checked it out a few weeks ago.”

  “I know. I thought it was strange, too.” Krista stood beside him, her knees still shaking from the close call with the masked man.

  Her father opened the hood and aimed the flashlight inside. For a long while he stood there, saying nothing. Then he took a step back as the flashlight fell slowly to his side. His eyes were wide, his mouth open.

  “What’s wrong?” Krista looked from her father to the car and back again.

  “It’s impossible,” he muttered.

  “What?” Krista moved closer, looking under the car’s hood.

  “There.” Her father pointed the flashlight once more at the engine. “The battery is gone.”

  “What?” Krista was confused. “Can a car run without a battery?”

  A strange chuckle came from her father. “That’s just it. It’s impossible.”

  “So how did I … “ Krista’s voice trailed off.

  Her father shook his head and lifted his eyes to hers. “Don’t you see? Someone set you up. While you were shopping, someone took your battery and then waited for you. They knew you wouldn’t be able to start your car and …” Her father stopped mid-sentence and Krista guessed he was imagining what the masked man had intended.

  “It’s impossible,” he said again.

  “I don’t understand,” Krista said. She was more confused than ever, and terrified at her father’s discovery. She had been set up and yet somehow she had escaped being attacked. “If the battery is gone, how did the car start, Dad?”

  “That’s what I mean. There isn’t any way to start this engine without a battery.”

  Chills made their way down Krista’s spine and she reached for her father’s ha
nd. “What are you saying?” she asked softly.

  “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. Somehow you made it home without a battery. It’s impossible.”

  Suddenly Krista felt a peace wash over her. “Could it be God was watching out for me?”

  Her father’s eyes widened and a knowing look came over his face. Slowly, deliberately, he stared up at the star-covered sky. Krista followed his example, and for several minutes they gazed into the night. Finally, her father broke the silence. “God, we may never understand what happened tonight,” he whispered. “But we are eternally grateful. Thank you.”

  A Heavenly Reminder

  When her mother presented her with the idea, Ashley Payton was anything but excited.

  “Wyoming!” she whined, her hands in the air. She was a nineteen-year-old minister’s daughter who had grown up in Southern California. Beaches, sunshine, and city life was something she took for granted and enjoyed. “I hate country life, Mom. There’s no way I’m going to Wyoming.”

  The plan, her mother explained, was for Ashley to meet up with one of their church friends in Wyoming, where she would join an eight-member Christian singing group called Alive. If the week in Wyoming went well, she could travel with the group across the country, visiting churches for one year.

  “It’ll be good for you, Ashley.” Her mother sounded confident. “At least think about it. You’ve been looking for a way to get out of town, haven’t you?”

  “Out of San Bernardino, yes. But I was thinking something more like New York or Chicago.” She huffed hard. “Not Wyoming.”

  But secretly, Ashley’s mother had her thinking. Hadn’t she always wanted to sing on tour? Was this trip—even if it started off in Wyoming—God’s way of letting her have her dream? Ashley pictured herself standing in the spotlight, singing for thousands of people every night. She was blonde with brown eyes and her voice easily rivaled any of the professional recording artists. Maybe this was the break she was looking for.

  But what if they didn’t play to large crowds? What if the tour stayed in small towns for an entire year? Ashley shuddered at the thought. She had lived in Southern California since junior high and knew how much she would miss her friends. It was a big risk. But Ashley also loved to sing. She had dazzled local audiences since she was four years old and had occasionally been approached by talent agents.

  She’d even developed a fanlike following among the large congregation where her father was minister. And though she was not quite ready to cut an album, the idea of singing nearly every night for a year was enticing. Finally, the possibility of getting her dream off the ground loomed larger than her concerns about the small towns.

  “Okay,” she told her mother a few days later. “I’ll do it.”

  Her mother’s face lit up. “Really?”

  “Yes.” Ashley swung her hair over her shoulder. “Maybe this is the break I’ve been waiting for.”

  “The break you’ve been looking for?” Her mother wrinkled her nose. “This trip isn’t about getting discovered, Ashley. It’s about serving God with your gift of music.”

  Ashley gave a short laugh. “That’s what I mean.”

  “I hope so.” Her mother hesitated for a moment and leveled a serious look at her. “Without the right mind-set, you’ll be nothing but disappointed by a trip like this.”

  Ashley knew her mother was right, but privately she was certain this trip would break her music career open. Yes, she would be using the gift God gave her. But couldn’t she get discovered at the same time? Ashley was certain she could.

  A month later, Ashley flew to Wyoming and met up with the rest of the Alive singing group. Fred and Rita were the couple in charge, and they treated Ashley like a daughter. Despite the lack of city luxuries, Ashley sang as lead vocalist at a different church every night that week. She was hooked. And besides, once the group set out on its national tour they would spend time in bigger cities. Certainly the audiences would be bigger, too.

  At the end of the trial period, Ashley flew home, spent a week packing, and after bidding her family and friends farewell she flew to meet the group in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. The group traveled from one city to the next in Fred and Rita’s motor home. Each night they would sing at a different church, hoping to soften the hearts of those in attendance. Typically, when the performance was over, they would collect small donations that would pay their food and gasoline costs until they reached their next destination.

  For the first few weeks, Ashley could hardly contain her excitement. Not only was she singing with a professional group, touring the country, but night after night she was watching people come to know God. The experience gave her an indescribable joy. God had a purpose for her life, and she could hardly wait for each night’s concert.

  But as time passed, the joy of singing began to wear thin. Not only that, but the group’s meager accommodations began to irritate Ashley. More often than not she found herself thinking about the inconvenience of sharing a motor home with seven other people rather than the joy of singing.

  There were occasional tire blowouts and breakdowns and times when the group’s funds ran so low there was no telling where their next meal would come from. In addition, Fred was being far too generous with their cash. If a needy person crossed their path, he would use a portion of the group’s dinner money to buy the guy a sandwich.

  “God knows what we need.” Fred would smile at the others. “He’ll take care of us.”

  Even though they had never gone without, Ashley was still bothered by Fred’s generosity. One afternoon, three months into the tour, the group stopped at a small southern seaside town for an Italian dinner. Weeks had passed since they’d eaten anything other than fast food, but the previous night’s offering had brought in enough that Fred decided they could afford a sit-down dinner.

  As the group approached the restaurant, they noticed a man dressed in tattered rags. His weathered face and matted hair were covered with a layer of silt and dirt. He was sitting just outside the restaurant door, his hat in his hands.

  “Bum!” Ashley whispered to herself. People like that were so disgusting. Then she had another thought. Watch Fred invite him to dinner.

  As the group drew closer to the man, Fred stopped and started a conversation with the man. Ashley was horrified. She drew closer so she could hear what they were saying, and she was suddenly assaulted by a pungent smell. It was a mix of the man’s body odor and the smell of musty alcohol on his breath. Stepping away, Ashley studied the man from a distance. It must have been months since his last shower. Disgusting, she thought to herself. The man has no pride in himself whatsoever!

  In the course of three minutes, while the rest of the group stood in a cluster behind him, Fred managed to get the man’s story. He’d been living on the streets for the past year and needed money for food. Fred smiled and Ashley knew what was coming. Fred didn’t believe in giving people money for food. He believed in giving them food.

  “I can’t give you any money,” he said, a smile playing across his face. “But you could be our guest at dinner tonight. Our treat.”

  The homeless man looked skeptical. “You wanna bring me the food out here?” he asked. It was obvious he couldn’t believe that Fred might actually want a person like himself to eat with his group.

  “No, of course not!” Fred waved toward the restaurant door, where the manager was watching them. “Come in! Eat with us.”

  Ashley wanted to cover her face with a bag. What was Fred thinking? Letting them be seen at a sit-down restaurant with a shabby old homeless man? The grizzly old guy stared at the members of the group and his eyes fell on Ashley. “Okay.” He looked back at Fred. “Thanks.”

  “What’s your name?” Fred asked as they moved inside.

  “Gus.”

  Ashley dropped to the back of the group and rolled her eyes in frustration. Now they’d have to smell this filthy man for the next hour and no one would enjoy the meal. She shook her head and followed the ot
hers into the restaurant. Maybe she should call home and find a way to pull out of the group. Nothing about the tour was working out like she’d hoped.

  Once inside, the manager showed them to a table near the back of a large private room. Ashley sat down first and waited for others to fill in around her. When everyone had found a seat she was horrified to see that the place beside her was still empty. The homeless man still stood off to the side, unsure of whether he should really join the group at a formal dinner table. He looked embarrassed as he scanned his ragged and torn clothing.

  “I’ll just go outside and wait,” he said suddenly. “You can bring me something out there if you want.”

  Fred stood up and shook his head. “Absolutely not.” He pointed to the seat beside Ashley. “Sit there … we have plenty of room.”

  Ashley’s eyes grew wide. Great. Sit him by me. She slid her chair a few inches from the place where Gus was sitting down. Anger and frustration swirled across her heart and she bit her lip. Some life-changing music tour this turned out to be, huh, God? I should’ve just stayed home.

  As the homeless man beside her settled into his chair, a putrid aroma moved like a cloud over the place where Ashley sat. The man smelled so bad, it’d be a miracle if she didn’t lose her appetite. Gritting her teeth, she determined to ignore him and enjoy her meal. After all, it could be weeks before they might afford a nice dinner out.

  When the waitress had taken their order, Gus looked at Fred and cleared his throat. “Where are you people from?” He barely made eye contact before letting his gaze fall to his lap.

  In spite of everything, Ashley found herself feeling almost sorry for him. The guy looked like he didn’t have an ounce of self-esteem. She stared at him from the corner of her eye. Where did he spend his nights anyway? In an alley somewhere? How awful would that be?

  Ashley blinked back a wave of remorse. Oh, well. It was probably his own fault. Too much drinking or drugs. He must’ve done something wrong. People don’t just wind up on the streets.