Written by Louis Gerber
Edited by Linda Cobourn
April 19, 2026
Some of the most powerful testimonies in a church family aren’t the dramatic ones. They’re the quiet ones — the moments we might overlook, the memories we’re not sure anyone else would care about. Recently, our friend Louis Gerber shared a few of his own stories with me, and they reminded me just how much God does in the everyday.
Louis began with a verse that has anchored him for years:
“Have mercy upon me, O God, according to Your lovingkindness; according to the multitude of Your tender mercies blot out my transgressions.” — Psalm 51:1
Louis wrote about a day when his van broke down on a lonely road outside Laurel, Delaware. He was miles from the nearest home, unsure what to do next. But within twenty minutes, a woman in a truck pulled up slowly, worried he might be in trouble. She had heard what she thought was a gunshot and came to check on him. She was mistaken, but her concern led to help arriving, a tow truck coming by, and Louis getting safely home.
“Thank you, Lord,” he said, “for helping me in my time of need.”
Another day, during a storm, Louis watched a tree begin to fall toward his house. It could have caused real damage. But two other trees had already fallen in such a way that they formed a kind of teepee — a shelter — catching the falling tree before it could hit his home.
“Thank you, Lord,” he said, “for arranging things at just the right time.”
These aren’t headline stories. They’re not dramatic conversions or miracles that make the evening news. They’re the kind of stories most of us carry quietly — moments when we look back and realize God was there, guiding, protecting, nudging, providing.
And that’s exactly why they matter.
Your story doesn’t have to be big to be meaningful. If God was in it, it’s worth telling.
Louis’s willingness to share these simple memories reminds us that God is present in the ordinary. He is near on back roads and in storms, in misunderstandings that lead to help, and in trees that fall in just the right direction.
So I want to invite you — gently, simply — to consider sharing one of your own stories. It doesn’t need to be long. It doesn’t need to be polished. It just needs to be true.
Because when we share our stories, we remind each other that God is still at work in our lives, in ways both quiet and profound.
Tell the Story You Carry
Tell the story you carry,
the one you think is small—
the quiet grace, the whispered prayer,
the moment God met your fall.
Tell the story you carry,
the one you almost forget—
the roadside help, the spared‑from‑harm,
the mercy you can’t explain yet.
Tell the story you carry,
the one that seems too plain—
the tree that fell the other way,
the peace in sudden rain.
Tell the story you carry,
for someone needs to hear
how God still walks the ordinary
with hands that draw us near.
Tell the story you carry.
It matters more than you know.
A single seed of testimony
helps another’s courage grow.
