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It was a Sunday morning service and I was on duty. Attendance usually ran between 900 and 1,000 for each service, and we held three back-to-back services every Sunday; apart from the Saturday evening service. As was routine, at the close of each service, congregants seeking prayer for their personal issues would come forward to the crossing at the front of the chancel, where pastoral staff and members of various care groups would pray with them.

At the first service, a young lady made a beeline for me as I stood behind a few care group members. I recognized her at once. She was a member of my former church. Our eyes met as I greeted her with a smile. As she positioned herself before me, she suddenly burst into tears; her body shaking as she struggled to contain her grief.

Instinctively, but it isn't something I normally do, I put my arms around her and simply held her until she calmed down. As I released my arms, an unbidden thought rose in my mind: “You can pray for her now. She had been unfairly treated in her previous workplace.”

I said softly, "Anne, our Lord is aware of your situation at your previous job. Trust Him, He is your Healer. May His healing rest on you and keep your heart in perfect peace as you take a new step forward in this next phase of your life." After a couple of seconds, she stepped back, looked up with a faint smile; "I'm okay now, Gerald. Thank you."

At the next service, I waited as usual while several came forward for prayer. Scanning the group, I noticed an elderly man standing apart, head bowed, whom no one seemed to be attending to. I went to him and requested to hear his prayer request. I waited but he remained silent.

It was clear he wasn't going to share one. So I asked if he would mind if I placed my hand lightly on his head when praying. He nodded. The moment my fingers touched him, I felt a bolt of electricity pass through me and out through my hand. I said nothing, believing at the time that I was simply making way for the Holy Spirit to minister to him.

After about a minute, once the sensation settled, I asked inwardly, “Lord, how do You want me to pray for him?“ The answer came at once: “He knows what had just happened. Simply bless him on My behalf.” After the benediction, he thanked me, turned around, and left.

A week later, I was called into the Senior Pastor's office. It turned out that the elderly man who had come forward last Sunday was wrestling with a difficult decision. He told the Senior Pastor, his long-time friend, that the moment I touched his head, he felt as though a bolt of lightning had struck him and ran through his whole body for a minute or so.

He came to a decision on the issue that had been troubling him immediately after this encounter. I was grateful he had come forward last Sunday, and allowed God to meet him.

Here are some lessons that emerge from these two encounters.

God works through ordinary, willing availability.

Neither encounter began with me seeking something dramatic; I was simply present, on duty, available. This echoes the pattern throughout Scripture where God uses people who make themselves available in the mundane moment (1 Samuel 3:10, "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening"). Ministry often isn't sought out; it's stepped into.

Compassion sometimes precedes understanding.

I embraced Anne before I knew why. The comfort came first, instinctively, and the specific word of knowledge came after. This mirrors Romans 12:15 ("weep with those who weep"), and the way Jesus is often described as being "moved with compassion" before He acts (Matthew 14:14, Mark 1:41). Sometimes presence and physical comfort minister before words do.

Discernment and the still small voice.

Both encounters involved an inward prompting; a thought that wasn't my own reasoning but felt given. This reflects the biblical pattern of the Spirit's leading described in John 16:13 and 1 Corinthians 2:10, and echoes Elijah's experience of God's voice as a whisper rather than the wind or fire (1 Kings 19:12).

It's a reminder that spiritual sensitivity often looks like noticing a thought and trusting it, not manufacturing one.

Attentiveness to the overlooked.

Ministry sometimes means scanning the room for who's being missed. Noticing the elderly man precisely because no one else was attending to him. This reflects a recurring biblical concern for the person on the margins. Jesus repeatedly singles out the person the crowd has passed by (the woman with the issue of blood, Bartimaeus calling out while others tried to silence him).

Silence has ministry value.

With the elderly man, I didn't fill the space with words, simply waited, then acted with a small request ("may I place my hand on your head?") that respected his consent. This models a kind of restraint: not every act of ministry needs to be verbally explained or narrated.

Job's friends, for instance, ministered best to him in their first seven days of silence, before they started talking (Job 2:13).

The healer is God, not the ministry vessel.

In both stories, I was careful to note that I didn't know what I was doing or why; the words given to Anne, the sensation with the elderly man, and the outcomes were credited to God, not my own gift. This is consistent with Paul's language of being a "jar of clay" carrying treasure that isn't his own (2 Corinthians 4:7), and Peter's insistence, after healing the lame man, "why do you stare at us, as though by our own power we had made him walk?" (Acts 3:12).

Consent and dignity in ministry.

Asking the elderly man's permission before touching him is a small but significant detail, it shows ministry that doesn't presume upon a person, even in a posture of prayer.

Confirmation often comes later, and from someone else.

I didn't learn the full impact of the second encounter until a week later, through the Senior Pastor. This reflects a theme of sown seed and later harvest (1 Corinthians 3:6 "I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth"); the minister doesn't always get to see the fruit in the moment. Trusting God may mean a less intrusive curiosity.

About Coram Deo

Coram Deo — before the face of God. This blog reflects on Scripture, world events, science, music, psychology, and the human mind — always through the lens of Christian faith. All of life is lived before the face of God.