Shodankeh Johnson: Man of Prayer

Much could be written about Pastor Shodankeh Johnson. I'll stick to what I have personally experienced getting to know him as a colleague at Cityteam.

Shodankeh is a man of prayer. I'd heard that he wakes early in the morning to pray for an hour or more each day, and when I hosted him in my home I found that to be true. More than pray, he actually sings in a soft voice to God, I woke up to hear it. 

Another time, while attending the New Canaan Society San Francisco Weekend, I had arranged for Shodankeh to share a room with a dear brother and mentor to me named Ken Churchill (I wrote about Ken here). One evening, Ken received an email from a man in Africa who was reporting that another man who is Shodankeh's colleague was imprisoned. Ken informed Shodankeh of this terrible news, only to watch him fall to the ground in prayer where he began by praising God. 

Once, I had set up for Shodankeh to speak at a conference, literally planning most of the details of his visit, from the time he stepped off the plane. A colleague, Eric Venable, picked him up with the intent to bring Shodankeh to the office to brief the plan and get settled in. But Shodankeh asked to be taken to Stanford University. Eric asked him if he had an appointment, to which Shodankeh replied that he did not, but he had been praying on the flight and God had directed him to go there. Off they went, and when they arrived, they began to walk around the campus, and in so doing, ran into an old friend of Eric's. As they got to talking, they learned that this friend was the secretary for a director of the Hoover Institution, a prestigious international think tank. And, she revealed, there was a new program in the works to resource international leaders just like Shodankeh! The program wasn't publicized, but she offered to provide some information if they would come to her office. Of course, they went, and despite his schedule being completely booked for the day, it turned out that the Director was in his office and took over an hour to brief Shodankeh on the program and give him all of the necessary details to apply. These kinds of divine directives, interactions, and provision are commonplace with Shodankeh and his team from Africa.

Later, when Shodankeh arrived to the office and I heard the story, I asked him how these things happen to him. He replied to me that when he travels abroad, he has a team of people, as many as 50, praying and fasting for him the entire time he is gone. I came to know that he is a man of prayer, and that his team in Africa often doesn't make a move until they have paid a high price in prayer and received direction from God. 

Because of Shodankeh's love for prayer, I have put myself in position to pray with him and bring him to pray with groups of people I am a part of. Two examples, are the Legends prayer group I attend and the New Canaan Society brothers at a weekend retreat. Shodankeh has come to bless the men of Legends a couple of times and when he does there is always a thick presence of the Holy Spirit. Another time, Shodankeh joined a group of men who left the NCS weekend retreat to go to a hospital to pray for a young man who had been shot in the head. That man went on to have a miraculous healing that I documented here. 

As I said, much more could be written about Shodankeh, in fact it has here and here. I also encourage you to read the book Miraculous Movements, many of the stories of which come from the work of Shodankeh and his team in Africa. Shodankeh is a man who seeks to know God and the fruits of the Holy Spirit are evident in his life, and for that he is definitely a Hands On Christian.

A short video with a powerful testimony from Pastor Shodankeh Johnson. 

Jack Deere: Spirit Led Man

I first met Jack at the New Canaan Society, and in the hallway he spoke to me like a friend. His calm approachable spirit struck me; with people eager to speak to him, we had a leisurely five minute conversation. Me a young man who knew nothing of his journey, his books, anything.

After that conference, I learned that Jack had a son who went through Cityteam's addiction recovery program, was clean for awhile, then relapsed. When he did, he was discovered in a park by a wealthy Christian family in Silicon Valley that took him in to live with them. Somewhere shortly after that, he committed suicide. 

Jack's story intrigued me, and I've attended his workshops and have picked up his book, "Surprised by the Power of the Spirit," but admittedly, have not read it yet. When he preached at the NCS conference in Washington, D.C. the Spring of 2014, he laid his heart out before 700 men in an intimate and graphic way regarding the near death of his wife, his struggles before God all the while, and now his care-taking of her. 

Currently, I see Jack is posting about caring for Leesa on a Caring Bridge site here. Jack is a soldier who's wrestled with his faith publicly, he's stared death in the face, he's pastored churches, he's cared for many, and I see a man who is bearing himself naked before God, and before others to the glory of God. 

I Found A Homeless Woman Outside My House on Christmas

Whitney and I settled in to watch a movie after a Christmas dinner with our pastor and his family. As Whitney turned on the tv and looked for a festive flick, I took our pacing puppy Archie out for a pee. He tugged toward the front yard and then let out a low growl. "It's okay, Archie," I assured him--a cat was lurking I assumed.

Though, right after I said these pacifying words to the pup, I felt a tug in my gut that something was up. Literally up. I looked at the high wall that separated my yard from a business park next door--then I had a sense to look over it.  I stepped onto an oversize flowerpot and peered into the darkness. Not much visible, just a dumpster to the left and what appeared to be a pile of trash to the right.

I continued to the front yard; but still, the pull in my gut persisted, as if to say look again, and so I did and once again found nothing.

Archie did his business, but I had a nagging sense that mine was not finished. I walked around the wall into the business complex to look from another angle. Again, nothing out of the usual.

Back around the wall I went to my house to watch a movie with my waiting wife, who was most likely wondering where I was. But this hunch in my gut wouldn't quit. So, for a  fourth time I looked over the wall, and this time I called into the darkness, "is somebody there?"

"I'm here," a head popped out of the pile of trash. "I'm here too," another head lifted next to the first. A woman had responded first and she immediately began to explain that she and her friend were not doing anything, that they were in separate sleeping bags even, it was just so cold that they needed to be close.

To ease her fear that I would call the cops, I said, "I work for Cityteam and we work with the homeless." Her reply to me was, "God sent you to me!"

Her response struck me. As a Christian, on Christmas, a woman just outside my door sleeping in a pile of trash, saying I was sent by God?? What's going on, I wondered?

"Merry Christmas," I said. "You must be cold, can I get you something warm to drink and are you hungry?" I asked.

"Yes, yes I am hungry," she said."

Okay, let me get you something to eat, I'll be back soon."

Back inside the house, I saw my bride ready to snuggle but it would have to wait. I filled her in and she snapped into action preparing dinner and a bag of provisions.

Back outside, I walked around the wall and knelt down to the two sleeping bags. I learned their names were Carol and Bill. I prodded to learn more about how they ended up in this place on Christmas Day. Carol told me that she has been homeless for over 15 years, a severe alcoholic unable to stop drinking. Living in fear for her life every day from either lack of alcohol, medical issues, or violence on the streets.

She was in this place, she said, because her camp next to a creek was burned up with all of her possessions a few days prior. As Carol talked more about her life and her children, I had a strong sense that this was a heavy spiritual battle and to tell her that she needs Jesus, and so I said just that.

After a pause, Carol said I was right. She even knew something about Jesus, but I could tell her mind was not clear enough to have a spiritual conversation. I asked if I could pray, and they both said yes, and so we held hands and I prayed. I prayed that God would move in that place that very night, and move in Carol to take away her addiction, and move in her in such a way that she could not deny it.

All while I was praying, I envisioned Jesus coming into the world in conditions similar to the encampment where I now kneeled.  There was power in that prayer--I felt it. When I was done, Carol told me tearfully that she wanted to change, she was sick of her life, she was sick of being unable to help her children who had also fallen into addiction and trouble. I told her I wanted to help.

I returned to the house to gather up the food, sandwiches, chips, fruit, vegetables, homemade hummus, candy, two Target gift cards, and more that Whitney had assembled. When I brought it all back, Carol was thankful, we talked a bit more, and then I left her with my business card and a challenge to call me the next day if she was serious about wanting to make a change in her life. This was not my first time making this offer to someone on the street, and I knew the chance of a call from her was slim.

The next day, Carol called...and she kept calling. When we spoke, she confirmed she was ready for change--but what should she do? Seeing that at the time I worked for a company that operates addiction treatment centers, you'd think I would have a fast answer. But I needed to inquire with colleagues about how best to proceed, so I started making calls. I learned that in San Jose the best way for Carol was a medically supervised detox and then a long-term recovery program, which I hoped would be faith-based given my sense this was a spiritual battle. I passed on to Carol the number to call and encouraged her and prayed with her again.

Every couple of days, Carol called me with an update. She started to tell me that something was strangely different in her life. In one call, her exact words were, "ever since you peeked your head over that fence with your wife's hummus and prayed with me, something is going on, you changed my life!" I told her it was not me, but the Holy Spirit of God inside me that made me look over that wall four times, and that God himself moved in her when we prayed.

Listen to one of the many messages Carol left for me.

The entrance into the San Jose program requires patience and persistence, especially for an addict. Carol had days where she was ready to give up, she would yell on the phone, and I would encourage her and remind her I was on her team and then she would calm down. It was also during this time she introduced me to Bruce, a friend who was helping her--he let her use his phone, would drive her places, buy her food and other supplies. Bruce had been through recovery himself several years prior and was now eager to see Carol do the same.

One day I got a call from Carol with a report that she was officially on a waiting list to enter a clinic for detox. Great news! She had anywhere from a week to ten days until she would be admitted. I knew there was going to be a fierce battle for Carol's soul, satan wants nothing more than to keep her trapped in the gutter, the darkness, wet and filthy, on the brink of death. I began to pray for Carol even more than I had previously, Whitney and I prayed for her at each meal.

A few days later, to encourage Carol, I asked her what she needed to make it until she was accepted into detox. She said she needed gloves and socks and a few other things, including a Bible--I was surprised by the request. Whitney and I went shopping for the supplies. When we found Carol's tent tucked in the back of a vacant lot next to a Safeway grocery store, she was clearly drunk. She rifled through the bag of goodies, not seeming all that grateful. Then she pulled out the Bible, and perked up and she exclaimed, "You brought me a Bible!, you brought me a Bible!" She held it close to her chest, and I thought to myself that I had never seen someone react to receiving a Bible like this, and that God was surely up to something in drawing this woman.

Then, one early Tuesday morning, as I gathered with a group of guys to pray as I often do, I had a hunch to have them pray for Carol. These men love to pray and when we do together we have seen miracles happen! And so when another guy in the group mentioned an encounter with a homeless person, it reminded me to mention Carol, who was impatiently awaiting admission to a clinic. We prayed that God would open doors for Carol that very day.

Later that day, as I laid down for a nap the phone rang. I recognized the number and picked up just before I fell asleep and would have missed the call. It was Carol and she was overjoyed to tell me that she has just received a call that the next day at 11 a.m. she was to be accepted into a six month detoxification and addiction recovery program.

I told her that that very morning I prayed for her with a bunch of guys that God would open doors for her, she couldn't believe it. Ecstatic is an understatement. She said things like: "no way!," and "this thing God is doing in my life is....I can't knock it out....its undeniable," and "God is amazing, He is changing my whole life."

To top it off, she told me that it was her birthday. I asked her about her favorite cake (it's cinnamon coffee cake), and Whitney and I bought one and dropped it at her tent to celebrate her new life.

Make no mistake, all of this was a miracle. That a woman who has been homeless for over 15 years living in the largest and most violent encampment in the country would be found by me on Christmas Day due to a nagging sensation in my gut, and after a powerful prayer over her that night she would call me to report an unmistakable draw on her life to beat addiction and homelessness, that she would then jump for joy upon receiving a Bible, and now, on her birthday, the same day 15 guys prayed for an open door for her, that she would get a call to enter a program.... these are the ways of life that cause people to throw their arms up and say PRAISE GOD! Any one of these events is unlikely, together they are so far beyond coincidence as to become certainly the hand of God working in a supernatural way.

I kept praying: Lord, keep Carol in the palm of your hand, be her strength amidst her weakness as she heals from years of destruction, and Lord, destroy the enemy, that dirty devil, from having any way in her life right now. Amen.

Again, I just knew that Carol was going to face a battle in this next big step. But I knew that I could not force Carol, she had to choose to show up for detox. I resolved to simply pray for her when the time came to go to detox at 10 a.m. the next day. And at 9:50 a.m. my phone rang, it was Carol, and she said she was not going. My heart sank, and I inquired how this could be. Carol told me that she needed a certain kind of drug to aide her detox, and if she didn't have it she would die. Someone had told her this on the street, and it became the absolute truth to Carol, despite the detox facility telling her otherwise.

Carol said she could not go without this medication. Her plan, she told me, was to go to the Emergency Room to get a prescription, and then she would return to detox as planned. I told her to hold on the phone while I asked a colleague with decades of experience on the streets if this was realistic. What I learned is that this is never done, I urged Carol to go to detox, and she promptly hung up the phone.

Not even two hours later, Carol called me back, she had her prescription and was back to detox. She thanked me, she said she was scared, but she was going to do it, she was ready. I told Carol that I was proud of her, and that she had to know it was going to be difficult, that she might even face spiritual attack, but that she should just open her Bible and read it, or pray to God like he is her friend sitting next to her. Then I hung up the phone and I praised God for opening doors for Carol that nobody thought possible.

For the next week I got an occasional report from Bruce about Carol's condition. He visited as much as they would allow, and said she was doing well. Seven, eight, nine days went by--Bruce was delighted, I could hear it in his voice. She was making it. He revealed to me that he too believed God was behind all of this too. I asked him why and he explained how that as he went through the Alcoholics Anonymous program, he used to read his AA "Big Book" next to a lake, and where the book says to believe in a "higher power" he often saw geese flying over, so he made the geese his higher power. It worked for him, he said, and when he dropped Carol off, just as she walked into the detox center, a flock of geese flew over and he broke into tears.

On the tenth day, Carol left.

Why? Bruce said that Carol was waiting in a van for a ride to the hospital for a check-up and a woman in the seat behind her freaked out and started kicking her seat, and she couldn't handle it, so in that moment of weakness she left.

When I spoke to Carol, she was angry, trying to explain and place blame. I encouraged her to try again, to pray, to tap into that pull in her that changed her heart. She didn't want to hear it now, she shouted into the phone, we parted ways. I knew I could not force Carol to do anything, I resolved to pray for her more but it sank in that ultimately Carol had to choose God back. He moved in her and opened doors so clearly, but she had to accept him and turn to him when things got rough.

My time watching Carol's life change so clearly through things that cannot be explained by worldly measures, that happened against all odds, despite the outcome it gave me a renewed sense that God hears our prayers. And seeing the outcome reminded me too that we have free will and ultimately a relationship with God, like with any other person, to flourish it has to be reciprocal.

“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened." Matthew 7: 7-8

Revival at Denny's

Martha was distracted with much serving. And she went up to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.” -Luke 10:38-42

I was invited to a gathering of pastors at a local Denny's. There were about 20 in attendance, someone spoke for 10 minutes, then we broke into groups of 4 or 5 to see how we can pray for each other. When they got to me, I went on a rant about how God is flooring me and how I don't know what we are doing as a church and why haven't we reached out to pray for our server already.

Minutes later, the server, a skinny 20 –something year old Mexican kid who is all disheveled comes to our table—and a guy at our table asks him, "can we pray for you?" To which he responded: "I wanted to ask you guys for prayer, but I thought you were too busy."

Jaws dropped.

The server followed up by dropping to a knee and saying tearfully, I want to give my life to Jesus, but I can't. We asked him why, and he said because he smokes too much pot. We prayed over him something fierce, one pastor was literally hooting and hollering, another spoke in tongues (I think it was a first for me to hear).

I got his cell number so I could follow-up.  A few days later, one pastor forwarded me his weekly newsletter, detailing the story of Oswaldo at Dennys. How much do we busy ourselves with ministering to those of faith while missing the lost literally right at our table?

As a follow-up, I followed-up with Oswaldo shortly after our encounter and learned the number he gave me was no longer working. So I went to Denny's to see him in person, but he wasn't there. I left a note that another server said she would pass on to him, but I never heard from him. A year went by, and Oswaldo popped into my mind once in awhile.

Then, one of the guys at the table, the one who'd spoken up, he sent me a text message to report that Oswaldo had called him, but he was in the hospital with his wife and couldn't call back. Excited, I called Oswaldo and he answered, there he was. I quickly learned that his English was much easier to understand in person. It didn't matter, I asked how he was and went on to tell him what I thought about him, relaying the truth of God to him. His only response was something about how I had no idea how powerful this call was to him, how important. 

I wish I could say that Oswaldo and I have connected more, we have not. He has never called me back, and I have only prayed for him occasionally. And yet, I trust that seeds have been planted and I pray they will be watered, and I know who to trust for the growth (1 Corinthians 3:6). Even more, given the way this story came to life, I trust that it was a genuine move of the Holy Spirit. 

A Moving Experience

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths." Proverbs 3:5-6

Whitney and I were limping along--she recovering from major surgery and post-pregnancy, both of us more sleep deprived than we dreamed possible--absorbing the responsibilities of caring for a newborn baby. Boden turned one month old, I returned to work. I received an email notice--we have 60 days to vacate our home, a place we had just turned into our little predictable, cozy, safe nest. I became nauseous. 

The nausea turned to fear and desperation. How would I tell Whitney? I had to be strong and encouraging, we would be just fine, but I felt like, in fact, we would not. This might do us in. We already felt "done in" as it were. My reaction in the midst of the chaos was to pray, "Lord, help me, help us. Father, please do a miracle, strengthen us, assure us you have us in your hand."

Then I called Whitney. In addition to the email a letter was dropped at the house. A knock on the door, a quick check of the place, baby secure, body parts covered, peeking through the port hole, nobody there, open door, letter drops to the ground. 

She already knew. Like me, she was sick. Unbelievable. How could we do it now? How could she [our landlord] do this now?

We prayed together on the phone. "Lord, help us." We prayed that night, and the next day too. Amazingly, within 48 hours, our hearts began to change. We've seen God work too many times before, we trust Him, we thought that maybe He was up to something, we began to expect a miracle or at least personal growth and spiritual sanctification through this trial. 

Still we were faced with the reality of the Silicon Valley rental market, currently ranked by many sources as the most brisk and expensive in the country. I snapped into action, enlisting prayer support by colleagues, close friends, folks at church. I reached out to those knowledgeable about real estate and began to search listing sites. "Lord, I trust you to provide, but please don't let this down to the last minute like you did with our last move," I asked. 

A couple weeks go by, nothing. One night, late at night, in between feedings and diaper changes and soothing the baby, I feel compelled to check Craigslist from my phone. I rarely do this, as navigating real estate listings with all their details on a phone makes for too much zooming, scrolling, squinting.

There at the top of the search is a place that is.... a block away. Clean. Updated. Slightly larger. Ground floor, better with a baby. Same price as now. It would totally work! One problem...the ad ends with the following: ABSOLUTELY NO PETS!!! We have two, a cat and a dog. 

I decide to call and go see it anyway. Two days later, a block away, we enter to meet Hank. A pleasant guy, the place is better than advertised. It would work. We want it. We tell Hank the same. Hank asks if we have pets. I respond that we have a dog, he's a great dog, house trained, small and clean, minimal shedding, I show him pictures. 

Hank says he likes us, but he has many who are interested, and if another equally likeable couple surfaces without a pet, he will chose them. Understandable.

We depart, and immediately realize that, as seems to be occurring often lately, our minds are not working clearly. We did not communicate that we also have a cat. Our hearts sink. We forgot about our cat. It is plain weird to forget about your cat, but lately, we forget how to pronounce common words. We pray on the way back to our house, "Lord, we want this house, please give us favor."

We know that we have to call Hank and tell him about our cat, which is just a weird conversation to have. "Hey, so we just met you, and by the way, we have a cat too, we just forgot about him." Seems shady, but that's what I did, Hank seemed to understand, he hung up. I told Whitney we most certainly lost that opportunity, she replied that it was in God's hands. 

Later that day, our landlord came by to inspect the property, figure out what needed to be fixed before selling. By now, we had no bitterness toward her, God did that in our hearts. When she arrived, we were pleasant, we showed off how well we thought we had taken care of the place. She agreed--she was delighted. She was eager to list the place soon, and asked how quickly we could move out to which we replied it would likely take us the full 60 days, given the baby and all. Plus, we had no strong leads at the time, just the place we'd seen earlier, but there was the pet problem. She asked if she could call the landlord of that place, to tell him how great of tenants we were, we obliged, and she made the call on the spot. 

We engaged in conversation, which led to her telling us that she had to sell because she was embattled in a divorce, had to liquidate everything. It was a tragedy to her, our condo she had planned to keep for her autistic son so he could eventually live there. Everything was in shambles now. Seeing now that this situation was so difficult and painful for her, we told her we'd keep her in prayer. She left.

Forty-five minutes passed. I went to the mailbox. Oddly, the landlord was still outside, standing next to her car speaking with the real estate agent. "Ryan," she called, "would you come here?" She told me how grateful she was for us, how she wanted to help us even more. She offered to pay for our new place so that we could move in effective immediately, give us all of our deposits back, including the non-refundable pet deposit, and pay for a mover to help. Wow, this was becoming surreal. 

I marched back to tell Whitney the good news about our landlord, and then with another call to Hank with the news, we received confirmation and a key to our new place, a block away, within just a few days. After a hard few weeks of moving, unpacking, and reestablishing functionality in the home, we came to appreciate our new place that offered more space, first floor living (a bit help with a baby and a dog), and a little side yard. 

A stark contrast to our first home search in the Bay Area that went right to the wire, this move during a tough time as new parents was clearly blessed by God as we look back on it. Through prayer we saw our hearts shifted, were able to encourage our landlord, made a stand to be honest with our new landlord, got favor with him, and through much prayer, we saw a new, better place emerge with surprising speed and circumstances. Praise God for that!

God Named My Son

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well." Psalm 139: 13-14

It's true, God gave us the name for our son, Boden Wiley Derfler, before we even knew he was a boy. But before I get to that, I want to share the real, practical ways we felt God's presence in the pregnancy that led up to the naming. My wife, Whitney Elizabeth, was born to be a mom. As a young girl, she carried baby dolls around the house as a pretend mother to them. She played house, like many girls do, but she gave extra care to it all. Through her school years and even while entering the working world, her desire was always to be a mom. She became a nanny to two small children for a few years and exhibited a natural instinct with them. And so, that she got pregnant right away was a miracle itself, any woman who has struggled to get pregnant would attest. God was fulfilling His plan and design for Whitney on the first try!

But, before we knew that a baby was on the way, and a week before any kind of test could verify the pregnancy, Whitney got a loud and clear confirmation one day. She sat on the floor praying for her friends, and right in the middle of it all, she heard in her thoughts, "You're pregnant." Whitney rarely makes firm statements like this. For example, she would say "maybe I'm pregnant," even if she took a test and it said she was pregnant she wouldn't be so sure. So the fact that what she heard was matter of fact, it helped her to know it was not her own thoughts. A test a couple weeks later, on Christmas Day, verified that what she heard was true.

Newly pregnant, both Whitney and I could hardly contain our excitement. And yet, we waited a few weeks to tell anyone to allow it to be special news for just the two of us and to wait until the chance that the baby could be lost was lower. Yet, before we told anyone, our neighbor approached me while I was walking our puppy Archie and excitedly blurted out "Whitney is pregnant," through a heavy Iranian accent. My puzzled look back to her as I wondered how she could know this was met with a follow-up, "I had a dream and I saw this." Back in the house, I confirmed with Whitney that she had told nobody--we were the only one's that knew, or so we thought.

A couple months into the pregnancy, we weren't thinking too much about names.  And, the names we did toss around for ideas were for girls, because we mainly thought it was going to be a girl. Then, one night, Whitney woke up and heard the word "Boden" three times, not audibly, but as clear as day in her mind. Her first thought was, "What?" Because she didn't know it was a name--she had never heard it before. The next morning she looked up the meaning and it gave her goose bumps. You see, Whitney had been praying for this baby all along for all kinds of things such as that s/he would be healthy and strong, kind- hearted to people and animals, social and funny, and much more. When she saw the meaning of the name Boden on the computer screen--shelter and messenger--she was immediately struck that God had taken strong qualities of our two characters. Whitney, with her care for all living things--be it people or pets or plants--and her nurturing way, combined with my social nature, love of hospitality, and desire to share stories--the perfect name blending our qualities was this one that meant shelter and messenger. God had provided a name that was better than she could have imagined and she loved it!

It was a couple of days until Whitney came to me with the news. And when I heard it, my first thought was that it was unique for sure, and then I wondered what kind of nickname he would have. Then, a light went off in my memory! A couple weeks prior, we had gone to hear a band called Need to Breathe, and the lead singers are brothers named Bear and Bo. As we drove home from the concert, I remarked that if we had a son we should call him something manly like Bo, because that would have a ring to it, Bo Derfler. Whitney squashed the idea. Well, now that we had this name Boden, I pointed out that our son would be called Bo for short, just as I had wanted. She agreed that, yes, he could be called Bo, but her nickname for him would be Bodie.

Mind you, all of this happened before we knew we were having a boy. And, I should add that our experience was that when it became known we were pregnant, almost everyone (family, friend, and stranger alike) started to weigh in on the sex of the baby.  And a large percentage, I'll say 75% or more, were telling us they thought it was going to be a girl. They would say that they could see clearly that the baby was sitting in the belly a certain way, we spun a ring above her belly and it spun in such a way that indicated a girl was in there. But this name Boden, which we were increasingly feeling like it was from God, wouldn't work for a girl. So, this story about getting a name from God was not one that we were telling to anyone, not wanting to look like a fool should we be wrong. Also, neither Whitney or I were of the understanding that God was in the habit of naming babies nowadays. Sure, in the Bible He clearly did, but we just hadn't heard much about it happening anymore. That all changed very quickly.

A few weeks after the name was revealed, I attended the Silicon Valley Prayer Breakfast. Modeled after the National Prayer Breakfast held in Washington D.C. each year, it's a big deal in the San Francisco Bay Area, often attracting well-known speakers like Condolezza Rice and hundreds of attendees. You can imagine my surprise when the keynote speaker, Hollywood producer Mark Joseph, spoke about how God had named his daughter during his speech. Did God reeaallly name my son? It began to look more and more like a possibility.

Then, within another week, as I shared the story with a colleague at work, he quickly remarked that God had named two of his children. And He had equally amazing stories to tell me about it. As I heard them, it was solidified in my mind that God had named my son Boden, and I then knew with 100% certainty that we were going to have a son. At this point, I began to tell the story. I now had complete faith that this was all from God, and I just had to share it. We found out a month later via ultrasound that we were due to have a baby boy.

God names children, I am not sure why He does with some and not others. But this much is true, He does it and in our case it was such a comforting experience. After all, if God names a baby, then there is a reassurance that His hand is on that baby through the pregnancy and that was so helpful for us since we navigated this our first pregnancy on the opposite side of the country from our family and friends.

God continued to provide peace of mind to us. Even with His confirmation in prayer that we were pregnant and with a name given to us, we still had anxiety about the delivery. About five months into the pregnancy, a friend casually suggested that we might come meet her doula, who was going to help her through her delivery. We didn't even know what a doula was, but we went anyway, and we met Tara, who would greatly impact our peace of mind about the birth, in a most remarkable way.

Tara, we learned, was a Christian too. Even more importantly, she has a really calming presence and she knows a whole lot about giving birth, the mother of five herself. When she came to our home to get to know Whitney and talk about a birth plan, we were surprised that our puppy Archie didn't even bark when she came in the door. In fact, he ran right up to her and licked her foot--pet owners might appreciate such a vote of confidence. Long story short, the idea that we would have Tara in our corner to help us through the delivery gave us a peace of mind through that pregnancy that made things seem safer.  Also, Tara, who normally charges over $1,000 for her services, informed us that she would not take our money when we asked her about the payment details. She told us that in our case, God nudged her to provide her services to us as a gift and she wouldn't budge.

There is more to our feeling blessed through this pregnancy than is even captured here. For example, toward the end of it I kept coming across the verse Psalm 139, which included the verses 13 For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

These verses were presented in a Bible study one night, then it popped up in conversations, and when I opened my Bible randomly for inspiration, there it was. I find that for me, God often works by putting the same verse in my path repeatedly to truly write it in my heart.

So, all of these occurrences gave us a strong sense that God was involved in this pregnancy in a very personal way. It left us feeling compelled to share this story with you, because it is so important to us that He gets the glory for this baby boy in our life--we thank Him all the time; and we relay to you son, dear Boden Wiley Derfler, that you are blessed, that God named you, and we pray that He continues to bless you, establish your ways, and grow you as His very own shelter and messenger.

I Was Healed Over A Gin & Tonic

“By His wounds, we are healed.”

— Isaiah 53:5

Maybe like me you've wondered why you don't hear about or even see people getting healed. Jesus did it, so did his disciples, so what's going on these days that's preventing it from happening around us?

I'm here to report that people are still being healed, and I know this because I am one of them!

I was surveying the room while sipping a gin and tonic at the 2013 New Canaan Society Washington Weekend. I was looking for a familiar face when a young Naval Academy Cadet stepped up to say hello. We got to talking and soon an older man walked up to say hello to the cadet. Then another cadet joined our little circle of four. 

After the cadet and the older man exchanged greetings, the man looked at me and introduced himself as a healing pastor. To this I jokingly replied, "really, that's interesting, any chance God told you to heal my neck?" 

The man with the cane looked at my inquisitively, and he asked me if there was something in my life that was a pain to me, maybe a soured relationship. At the time, I had been struggling to see eye to eye with a someone and so I mentioned that, feeling slightly foolish that I had made a joke. 

He asked if we could pray together, right there. Sure, I said, so the man, who was now known to me as Reverand Nigel Mumford, put his hand on my shoulder and told the cadets to do the same and he began to pray.

While he prayed, he asked me a few questions, specifically about an area of sin in my life, and he asked me if I realized it was forgiven. I said yes, and he asked me to really believe that and repeat it with him. I did.

Then he asked me if I had taken a train into town, and if I was struggling with lust. I said that didn't resonate with me. He concluded his prayers, asking for healing. When he was finished, as we stood around, one of the cadets had a sheepish look on his face, and he piped up that he had taken a train to the conference, and that on the way he was talking to a woman on the train, and he had been tempted to leave to meet up with her. 

While this cadet talked I quietly rolled my head around to see if there was any chance my neck was healed. For several years it was such a constant low pain that I just became used to it. And whenever I rolled my head in circles as my ear touched my right shoulder there was a crunching popping sound at the same spot where I felt a deep strain. I'd had it worked on by massage therapists, tried chiropractors, bought and hung on an inversion table, and more--nothing worked. 

I couldn't believe it at first, by my head rolled smooth as if it was on a new set of ball bearings. I snuck off and made my way into the next room to grab a seat for dinner, rolling my head the whole way. Could it be possible? But how?

All dinner long I kept trying my neck out, in quiet disbelief. Smooth as could be. Still, like many miracles in the early days of my walk with God, I didn't see it right away as a miracle. I realize that sounds dumb to write, but I was just skeptical. And, in fact, a day or two later, the crunching came back ever so slightly. At that point, I thought that maybe I just needed to believe in God more, and I prayed and fasted to tell God that I really did believe. And the problem went away, and it has stayed away ever since.

Once it sunk in that I'd been healed, it changed me and the way I read Scripture, the way I pray, the way I believe in God. Stories of healing were received by me not with skepticism but rather an internal praise to God that it was likely true and even if it wasn't I know He is healing people all the time. 

Like all things in God's Kingdom, there are no formulas, so we will never be able to go out and heal people en masse, not until Christ returns that is. But we do have the option to believe and to listen to God for promptings about how and who to heal. That alone has since led me to many other encounters with healing, which is just an incredible way to live life. 

By the way, I later looked up Reverand Nigel Mumford, and sent him a note to thank him for what he did with my neck. You can follow him and his work online here: By His Wounds Ministry.

God Brought You to Me

"I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stoneand give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws." Ezekiel 36:26-27

I was traveling on the East Coast, and I took a bite into a Chik-fil-A sandwich. They aren't so prevelant in San Jose yet. I posted a picture of said sandwich, to which a reply was soon posted that I was supporting a hate group.

When I read the message, I had an immediate sense that a serious division was being dropped between myself and this dear brother. I prayed right away. I was in a good place at that time, in the Word, feeling full of peace and love. And so I called this brother, no answer. I left a message. There was nothing to hide, even though I simply like Chik-fil-A's chicken sandwiches, I am full aware of the positions both for and against their Christian stance.

Days go by, no return call. I call again. Still nothing. The weight of division growing wider caused me distress. I decided to pray and fast over it. I enlisted others to pray with me over it. One night, while praying with a friend, the friend pointed out that it was not be who had division in my heart, but rather this brother who did. So we shifted our prayer for the brothers heart, that God would work in it and soften it toward me.

Within 48 hours, I received a call from this brother. It was on Mother's Day, I will never forget it. As I received it, I looked up to the sky through the trees and at the son, and I said that you Jesus. On the phone, this brother said to me that he wants to talk to me when the time is right, but more importantly that he loves me, and that he knows I am a good guy. He was reminded of this because he ran into a guy while playing softball who, after putting "two and two together" realized he knows me, and who then gave this brother of mine unsolicited words about how I am a good guy. These words were received and they rekindled a love for me, and that is why he was calling.

As I heard this story over the phone, tears came to my eyes. I just kept saying in my thoughts, "praise you God, praise you!" To see a prayer work so clearly, so dramatically, so fast, it is amazing to behold! Only God can change hearts like this, without any human interaction between us in the meantime. Where the Enemy (Satan) seeks to divide and destroy, God is all powerful for redeem. 

To top it off, this brother of mine concluded by saying that it was too long since he'd seen me, and that he would book a flight for a visit within a week, which he soon did. This was an amazing turn of events, and I was delighted. Though, mixed with my delight was a growing concern around this conversation I would have with this brother. I knew that he had a firm belief that Chik-fil-A and their Christian stance, specifically in favor of the traditional family, was wrong. And I know he knows that I share the same Christian values, so what would become of our conversation?

Upon his visit a few weeks later, we had a delightful time. There was no early confrontation, and through much prayer and fasting before his arrival, I felt well prepared to talk about anything, especially Jesus! We took a day trip to Sonoma to visit wine country. A great day, but as we left, my dear brother did not stop imbibing on wine. In fact, he opened a bottle in the backseat of the car, and against protests, kept drinking. Soon he was becoming confrontational, angry even. He began to come at me "swinging" for my beliefs. 

The situation became very uncomfortable. I did not want to even speak or rationalize with someone who was drunk. And yet, the tirade had to stop. I raised my voice, "Let me tell you why you are here," I said. I reminded him how a month or so ago he would not return my calls, how he was angry at me because of my post about Chik-fil-A. He said he remembered this. I told him how it distressed me so that I prayed and fasted for several weeks. He was silent. Then I recalled how he ran into someone, quite randomly, who exclaimed my character so that he had a change of heart, and called me, which led him to take the trip to visit. I said, "Can't you see, God loves you, he brought you here!" As I said these words, my dear brother broke down in tears, he accepted the love of God in that moment, I believe, and he even repeated the words, "God does love me, he does." It was a tender moment, we both cried.

I wish I could tell you that the division was eliminated entirely on that night, it was not. After all, drunkenness and shame were still present. The next day, there was a sheepish sense and my brother wanted to avoid me, I think. However, there was no reason for it--that would just be allowing victory to the enemy. And so I sat next to him, put my arm around him, I told him I love him, that we can always talk and even when we do not agree, we will still love each other in words and in action. He apologized for his behavior, and I immediately forgave him. I said we must forget about it, and was determined to move on and have a fun day, after all, it was my birthday!

In conclusion, what I learned most about this trial is that God heard my prayer and fasting brought a brother to me, He changed a heart, put someone in my brothers path to remind him. I also learned that in this case, that far more than words or a carefully constructed argument, it was my life itself that likely spoke to my brother. It was how my wife made such a big deal over my birthday with thoughtful gifts and homemade recipes. It was how we visited an early morning prayer group and the guys were so welcoming. It was how we played golf and a friend stopped to pray before we tee'd off and my pals were fighting over who could pay for lunch. It is the authentic overwhelming love of Jesus, expressed in relationships and community, that draws someone to God. 

Miracle Boy: Ben Pessah

Through the Legends group in Menlo Park, I learned about a tragedy where a young man named Ben was shot in the head in San Francisco at a Halloween party. It turns out that Ben was friends with a colleague of one of the guys in the prayer group. Actually he was friends with a colleague of the host of the group, and that colleague, knowing that there was a group of men who came to pray in the office Tuesday mornings, asked the group to pray for Ben, who was in deep trouble.

I got a text while at the New Canaan Society weekend retreat in San Francisco, just a day or two after the shooting, that invited a group of guys to go to the hospital to pray for Ben. A car picked us up and off we went to pray for a young man none of us knew personally. On the way to the hospital we received a text from the colleague that Ben's condition had worsened, there was some kind of infection so that he was put into a unit we could not enter. The best we could do was pray in the hotel lobby.

And so we entered the hospital, got as close to Ben as we could in the Intensive Care Unit, and we began to pray. Pastor Shodankeh Johnson was with us--a powerful man of prayer I wrote about here--and he led us in prayer. We had prayed for five or ten minutes when a few young adults walked by us. I can't recall how the exchange happened, but we learned that among the group were the siblings and a close friend of Ben. We shared that we were praying for him, and they said they might be able to come back later to have us go in to see him. 

We prayed maybe ten minutes more, and then we left and went back to the retreat. Then the amazing reports began to trickle in...

First, an email from the colleague that said,

"Great report.  The initially diagnosed "highly contagious bacterial infection" somehow"came up negative" today."  

Then, a few days later, a note:

"a good report re Ben this afternoon. Fluid in the lungs receding. Doctors are optimistic on his prognosis!!!"

A week or so passed, and another note:

"Thank you so much for your prayers and support!"

I am so happy right now I am literally crying. Ben is now awake and is able to move around. His voice is faint (given all the tubes he has had for the last several weeks) but he is able to comprehend and keep conversation! The power of prayers.

I cannot express how thankful, happy, and relieved I am. I have so much to be thankful for this thanksgiving.

Please pass on my thanks to your prayer group and the priest that went to the hospital.

Then, we received an update that the press was beginning to cover this miracle: 

Check out the links below. It's not only us who are declaring this a miracle! Local news is also reporting on Ben's recovery.

Man's miraculous recovery from coma

Holiday Miracle as Man Awakes From Monthlong Coma