IMPOSSIBLE By Connie Hunter-Urban

Bud’s life had not been very good to him with mediocre jobs and a series of bad relationships. He was tall and hard-working with crevices etched on his face that announced nothing ever seemed to fall into place for him. He existed from day-to-day, but then things got worse. An accident left him irreparably deformed with his hip bone separated from his leg. Doctors told him despite medical advances, they held no hope for recovery. Hope. That was one thing Bud had never learned much about in his thirty some years of life.
Then, a friend told him about Jesus. Though he listened, inside, Bud scoffed. Why would he want to serve a God Who’d never cared about him, never given him a break? Why would he want to change his life when as bad as his was, at least he knew what to expect? Besides, from the little he knew about God, Bud had heard He asked you to change, give up all the things he did that defined his life. Giving up what he enjoyed now would only make matters worse. His friend wouldn’t relent, though. So, to satisfy her, he decided to go to a country church she attended. As she wheeled him into the sanctuary, he looked around and saw nothing remarkable—a Wednesday night service with just a handful of women. He cringed, feeling out of place from the beginning. He settled in and knew the night would be interminable.
Then, something happened. As the ladies started lifting their voices to praise Jesus, something stirred inside him. He brusquely brushed away a tear that wandered down his cheek. As they sang, he looked around. Each lady had hands raised, eyes closed, and face tilted toward Heaven. He fought the urge to raise his hands, too, but he didn’t know why. Then, the pastor’s wife began talking about Jesus. She had an obvious relationship with Him as she spoke of His goodness and how she loved this Nazarene. How He’d sacrificed Himself for her when she was in her sin. How He’d loved her despite her being a heathen who cared nothing about Him.
As Bud listened, he heard himself in her words. He knew his life had been empty for as long he could remember. Even before his accident, he’d wondered if his future days could promise better than what he’d endured these years. As he heard about the Man Who loved him just like he was, Bud didn’t even try to stop tears that flowed. As one woman asked him if he wanted to give his life to God, he didn’t even pause as he wheeled himself forward. Somewhere inside him, he knew this was what he needed to fill the void that engulfed him. That night he gave himself over to the Man he’d never known before. The impossible happened; Bud became a new creation.
After he prayed and when the tears had dried, he just sat there, surrounded by those women, and basked in the new freedom he felt. He wanted to laugh, then cry. He felt lighter than he had an hour ago as he dreaded coming into this building. Hatred he’d had for people who’d abused him over the years suddenly seemed to disappear. For the first time in his life, he felt new emotions—peace, joy, love, even for those who’d made his life so hard.
Just when he thought things couldn’t feel better, the preacher’s wife, my mother, looked at him with a smile. “Bud,” she said, “do you mind if we pray for your hip?”
Of course he’d heard Jesus could heal, but he’d never in his wildest dreams thought it could happen to him. He’d resigned himself to being an invalid. Now, as he pondered the miracle which had taken place inside his heart, he took a moment to consider what she was saying. If God could love and change someone as hardened as he, why couldn’t He heal him, too?
He looked at her steadily. “No,” he said, “but would Jesus save me AND heal me?”
The ladies all smiled and nodded. Their confidence became contagious to him. “Which was a greater miracle?” he wondered. As each reached toward him, he was filled with hope he’d walk again. Hope. Even though he’d known little about that concept, now it seemed to burn brightly before him. He bowed his head and all the ladies began to pray aloud. After a few seconds, Bud felt something happen—a burning inside his hip. He was used to pain; but this was different, like a hand was massaging his hip and leg. He felt fire travel down his leg as electricity surged into his body. Suddenly, he just knew he could walk.
“I’m gonna get up,” he said. The ladies looked at him like what he said was perfectly logical, so he had courage to try.
He hadn’t stood for a long time, so he was slow about rising; but suddenly he was on his feet. He balanced for a minute and let that impossibility set in. Doctors had said he’d never stand again. Then, he rested his hand on his wheelchair while trying to move his bad leg. It obeyed his brain’s command and went forward. He took a step, then another and another. At first, they followed him along the front but began to fall away as they praised God for the miracle unfolding. Bud walked around, gaining momentum, until he was tired and sat down, beaming. Later, as his friend pushed out his chair, Bud walked beside her in a daze from impossibilities God had done for him, Bud, that night.
Impossibilities are what Jesus is all about. How could He have taken mud and created a new eyeball? That’s impossible. How could He have walked on water, calmed a storm, or fed the multitude? How could He take a sinner and change him into a new creation? Just like Moses’ Red Sea and wilderness provision experiences; Joshua’s sun standing still; Gideon’s victory with a meager 300 men; or David’s facing a lion, bear, or giant, Jesus knew God is the Master of the impossible. He told his disciples if they would “have faith as a mustard seed, [they could] say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it [would] move; and nothing [would] be impossible” (Matt. 17:20). Hmm! Moving geographical formations? Impossible!
Because of his experience with Jesus, Bud learned firsthand “with God nothing will be impossible” (Lk. 1:37). As he began his new life, he walked with a distinct limp. He was okay with that, though, because it gave him opportunities to tell his story. He did whatever he wanted, pain-free. Once he even climbed on the roof and helped shingle the church where my parents pastored and He had found his new life.
A while later, he went to his physician for a scheduled checkup. The doctor was amazed as he came in, minus his wheelchair. After Bud told his story, the doctor ordered x-rays. After they were developed, he came back in and put them on the light to show Bud.
“Your hip and leg sockets are not joined. It’s impossible for you to be walking.”
Bud just looked at him and smiled. “Okay,” he said, as he got up and walked out of the office. See, that night at that country church, Bud had met firsthand the God of impossibilities.