Has God Ever Done Something Amazing Just for You?

This is my story. This is my song.

He had only played four notes on the grand piano when tears began streaming down my face. It was as if God had reached down from heaven and wrapped me in an all-encompassing embrace. I knew that song was being played just for me.

I’d been giving lip service to writing a book for as long as I could remember. I had thousands of words in jumbled documents on my computer. I knew I had a story to tell but was clueless about what it was or how to tell it.

I took my first step toward realizing my dream when I signed up for Jerry Jenkin’s Writing for the Soul Conference. It was a Christian writer’s conference, and my life for decades was nowhere near Christ-like.

How would the people here treat me if they knew what I did for a living? I’d heard the words, “You can’t be a Christian and own a bar,” more times than I could count. And that was from non-Christians. I couldn’t help wondering if the attendees would embrace or shun me.

Mine was an improbable tale. I was a Christian woman who owned a historic biker bar, and I was married to an alcoholic. My come-to-Jesus moment came in January of 2002 when my husband asked me for a divorce.

Since I was working like a dog while he drank like a fish, his proclamation that our marriage was over came as quite a shock. I think Jesus was tired of lightly tapping me on the shoulder to get my attention, and He decided to shove me off my bar stool. I’m happy to tell you that the wake-up call unequivocally changed my life and very likely saved my husband’s.

God had performed many miracles in my life, and sharing my transformation story became my passion. My husband, Tommy, had been sober for four years. Our marriage was thriving. Johnny’s Bar & Grill was prospering, and God was using us to help others in this unlikeliest of places. However, owning and operating a bar and grill full-time presented challenges to my writing schedule, and I needed a kick in the pants.

This writing conference would be the catalyst I desperately needed. I headed for Colorado with my laptop and a suitcase full of expectations.

The hotel was huge. With 450 conference attendees staying there, I was surrounded by like-minded people who shared my enthusiasm. It was a three-day event packed with speakers, classes, and a lot of uplifting spiritual music.

We sat at tables that seated eight, which encouraged networking before and after sessions and during meals with speakers, editors, and fellow writers. An air of expectancy permeated the large conference hall and spread into the corridors and elevators. I knew I was in the right place.

The first day was fantastic. The music and speakers were fabulous. The attendees were at different levels in their writing careers, and there were many newbies like me. My worries about the judgment I would face because I owned a bar were totally unfounded. Everyone was gracious and encouraging. I went to bed with a song in my heart, literally.

Crawling into bed, electrified by the first day’s curriculum, I didn’t know how I would get to sleep. As I lay there chatting with God, part of an old hymn came to mind. The melody and the words, “This is my story; this is my song,” were all I could remember. I wracked my brain, trying to recall the rest of the lyrics because they held so much meaning.

After staring at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity and turning those eight words over and over in my head, I finally dozed off.

The following day as soon as I opened my eyes, I heard the lyrics again. “This is my story; this is my song.” I decided to ask someone at breakfast if they could name the song. I was sure, at a Christian conference, someone would know it. I was a little nervous about singing the melody to total strangers, but curiosity killed the cat, and my initials are C.A.T.

I grabbed a bagel, fruit, and a cup of coffee from the continental breakfast spread and headed for a table at the front of the room. I joined three ladies I’d never seen before. We were encouraged to sit with someone new at every meal and share our contact information with as many people as possible during the conference.

Networking with the right people increases the odds of success, exponentially. We all chatted about our writing interests and projects between bites of our breakfast, and I completely forgot to ask them about the song that had occupied my mind earlier.

Our MC came out and gave us the lineup and class options for the day and reintroduced our talented Steinway artist, Randal Atcheson. This man played the piano at the White House for three different presidents. Not only was he talented on the keys, but he was engaging and entertaining, too. He asked us to join him in singing one of his all-time favorite hymns, Blessed Assurance.

The title didn’t strike a chord with me, but I lost it as soon as he played four notes. I was so overcome that I could barely see through my tears. One of the ladies I’d been visiting with mouthed, “Are you okay?” from across the table. I nodded as I threw my hands up and sang those lyrics as best I could between sobs.

“Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine.

O, what a foretaste of glory divine

Heir of salvation, purchase of God

Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.

Perfect submission, all is at rest.

I, in my Savior, am happy and blessed.

Watching and waiting, looking above

Filled with His goodness, lost in His love

This is my story; this is my song.

Praising my Savior all the day long

This is my story; this is my song.

Praising my Savior all the day long.” —Franny Crosby

To this day, I can’t hear the song without tears filling my eyes. They are tears of gratefulness and inexplicable joy. I have been blessed to experience a transformational touch from God on multiple occasions, but the Blessed Assurance encounter was one for the books. I hope and pray that everybody reading this will have one too.

Even as a writer, I struggle to put into words how it feels to know with unwavering certainty that God has done something just for you. The God of the universe thought enough of me to send me this encouraging message through a beautiful hymn written by a blind missionary worker in 1873.

It still boggles my mind!

It would take three more years of squeezing in writing while running a bar and grill full time, but I did write that book. I self-published Born Again in a Biker Bar and sold thousands of copies in paperback, eBook, and audio versions. I had codependents like myself, and alcoholics reach out to tell me how much my memoir helped them.

There is no better feeling in the world than knowing I brought others closer to Christ by using my God-given talent. He gave me my story and helped me to share it. He blessed it and connected me with the right people to make my dream a reality. He did it for a bar owner with a tenth-grade education. He did that for me; imagine what He will do for you.

Matthew 7:7–8 “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened.”

Here are a couple of my stories you might enjoy.

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