The Power of Prayer

I said I would continue my Southern Adventure story with some deeper insight, so lets get into that on this day before Thanksgiving. 

After recovering from the shock of having my once-lost-but-not-known-it-was-lost wallet returned, we got  back into our vehicles and continued on with just over 80 miles to go.  Once we got back on the highway, my oldest son says to me, "Boy are you lucky, Dad!"  I nodded but didn't reply. His comment caught me off guard as I was thinking about how grateful I was for Bill and his character.

In that moment, I said to my boys, "guys, what we just experienced was a miracle, not luck. Before we left last night I prayed to Jesus that he would protect us on our trip and keep the peace in our lives while traveling.  This was God at work in our life not luck."  In what seemed like a shining, clouds-breaking moment to me, my youngest says, "whatever Dad."  At that point I knew I was done talking about it with the kids!

Realizing that all my credit and debit cards were useless, I panicked realizing I had only $180 or so for our trip.  I called my bank and spoke to a nice woman in the help department who promptly told me, "I'm sorry Dr. Powell but we can't wire transfer money to a bank that's not an affiliate.  Banks just don't do that anymore."  I ended the call frustrated.  I decided to call back again and speak to the bank president as he is a friend of mine, thinking, maybe he can do something or has an idea.  When I called the main I spoke with a different gal about my situation and, this time, she thought there might be something they could do but he was not in at the moment so she would leave him a message.

Just a few miles down the road and my phone rings, it's the bank president.  "Hi David, thanks for getting back to me so quickly", I said.  "You're not in jail, are you?" he said chuckling.  "No, but I do feel helpless in this situation and am hoping you can help" I pleaded.  Needless to say, David, pulled some strings and made it happen.  He was able to wire transfer some money to a bank in downtown Branson. He said I would need a password, my photo ID, my check book and another form of identification to prove who I was. Pheww!  I felt like I could breathe again.  I thanked him endlessly and ended the call.

When we got to Branson, finally, we made our way to our condo and settled.  Once unpacked we decided to go check out Bass Pro Shops which looked close to the bank I needed to visit.  I pulled up to the bank and went in asked for Cindy as I was instructed to do.  Out from a back office comes this elderly woman with a big smile, "Well hello, you must be Dr. Powell" with a strong southern drawl.  "Why, yes, yes I am" I stuttered.  All of a sudden it felt like I was maybe the Governor or President with the royal treatment I seemed to be getting. "I'm the bank president and I spoke with your bank president and I am so glad that we could help you out.  Come with me.  So tell me, how did you lose your billfold?" she said.  I proceeded to tell her the story as we walked across the bank. By the time I had finished all the of tellers were listening to my story.  At the end, one of them said "Praise God for his goodness and mercy" and they all began to clap. 

It caught me off guard because I hadn't mentioned a word about my faith, my prayer of protection or any of the God-thing thoughts I had been having. D.D., the asst. manager of the bank said, "Well I'm just tickled that we could be a part of your miracle." I agreed and signed my check.  By the way, I did have to show my ID, but no one ever asked for the other information or the secret password.  As I left, I was hugged by the 2 gals and I said "I'm pretty sure there will always be a place in my heart for Branson after all of this."  Cindy replied, "Well we hope so cuz we think it's a pretty special place, too."

That night, laying in my bed thinking about the events of the day, I began to worship the Lord as it was so clear to me that this was all his work.  I lose my wallet and don't know it.  The man who finds it is a God-fearing Christian.  He calls the YMCA (Young Mens Christian Association) to reach me. ( And a side note, as I was looking through my returned wallet I found one of my business cards with all of my contacts on it.)  I get the wallet returned with EVERYTHING in it.  And the bank gives all the glory to God for the events. 

Some might look at this and say coincidence, but not me. I see the hand of God, the Holy Spirit, at work in one of his children.  I see the miracle of it all.  I see the blessing of the Holy Spirit in my life and I see the power of prayer.