The things that are impossible with men are possible with God
Luke 18:27

Johanna

The chatter inside the building faded as I stepped out. I drew in a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment, letting the cool breeze brush against my skin. The sharp coldness made me shiver, but I welcomed it. I needed that pause, that breath of clarity. I pulled my sweater tighter and continued forward toward the next building.

Faces blurred past—some familiar, some not. But I kept my eyes ahead, feeling the weight of the silence between us.

Near the entrance, there she was—Mercy.
Her familiar features struck me like a sudden gust of wind. Her eyes met mine, hesitant yet steady. In that instant, the air thickened, stretching the silence.
My heart gave a sharp tug.

Is she still mad? The question looped in my mind. It had been days. Only the echo of her words from that night remained.

"Hi, Anna," she said quietly, her voice trembling, her gaze lowered.

"Hello, Mercy," I replied, my voice almost cracking. I forced a smile, but it felt like paper over broken glass.

She hesitated, then softly added, "I know this is probably really awkward... but, can I talk to you for a second?"

A sudden warmth flickered inside me, fragile yet persistent. At least she was speaking to me.

"Sure," I said quickly, trying not to sound too eager. "I've got thirty minutes before my next class."

She nodded, a hint of relief in her expression. "Do you want to go to the school park?"

I nodded in return, and we began to walk, our steps in tentative rhythm.

"So... how have you been, Mer?" I asked gently. "It's been days since I heard from you."

She sighed softly, her gaze dropping to the ground. "I haven't been to school... I was in the hospital. Then I just stayed in my room. Lying there. Thinking."

I stopped, my breath catching in my throat. "What? Why?" My voice trembled as I sat beside her on the grass. "What happened?"

Her voice was hushed, almost breaking. "That night, after we fought... I called the others and we went to a bar. I drank so much... I can't remember most of it. But one thing—I remember it like it's etched into my soul."

I leaned closer, my heart tightening.

"It was late. Around ten, I think. The streets were nearly empty. I crossed the road without thinking... I was too drunk to care. Suddenly, I heard screaming. I turned... and there was this massive truck barreling toward me."

Her voice faltered, her breath hitching. I could almost hear the echo of that moment in her voice.

"I froze. I couldn't move. My mind went blank. I thought—this is it. But then... there was this light. Bright, so bright it blinded me, even brighter than the truck's headlights. It wrapped around me like a cloak, like something was shielding me. And in an instant... the truck was gone."

Her hand trembled as it found mine. Her fingers curled around mine tightly.

"There's no way that truck could've stopped on its own," she whispered. "It was so close, Anna. The people around me saw it too. They thought... they thought I'd be dead. And honestly... so did I."
Her voice cracked, her lips trembling. "Anna... you know me. I've never been religious. I've never believed in anything like that. But this... this felt like... like a miracle."

I felt my own breath catch, my chest tightening with an overwhelming mix of awe and joy. "Mercy," I whispered, my voice shaking. I gripped her hand tighter. "You did experience a miracle. You saw God's hand, His power... You saw Jesus move."

A small, shaky smile touched her lips, but her eyes shimmered with something deeper—a fragile yearning. "Jesus," she whispered, almost tasting the name. "What do I do to have more of Him?" Her voice trembled, raw and desperate. "Please... tell me, Anna. I want what you have. I want what you've found."

Tears welled in my eyes, spilling down my cheeks. I reached for her, pulling her into a trembling embrace. "Do you mean it, Mercy?" I whispered, my voice catching in my throat.

She nodded, her face pressed against my shoulder, her own tears mingling with mine. "Yes, Anna," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I need Him. I want to know Him. I've never wanted anything more in my life."

And in that moment, beneath the open sky, with the cold wind weaving between us, I felt something powerful—a quiet, fierce joy that surged through me like fire and light. I clung to her, both of us trembling, as if the world had fallen away and there was only this: grace.

⸻

The days blurred by, and soon, Sunday arrived.
My heart raced as I stepped into the church, the familiar scent of wood and warmth wrapping around me. My mind buzzed with nerves. Pastor Melchour's words about leading worship echoed in my ears, like a steady drumbeat.

Practice last night had been wonderful. Marienne was incredible—her voice soared with ease, her leadership graceful. I had admired her instantly.

The sanctuary hushed as the M.C. called for testimonies. Mercy sat beside me, her hands folded, her eyes brighter than before.

I listened as people stood, sharing their stories. My heart swelled when I thought of Mercy's testimony—the way her face had glowed with a light I hadn't seen in her before. The old had gone, and the new had come.

Pastor Melchour slid into the seat beside me, his voice gentle. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," I whispered. "But... where's Marienne? The service has started, and she's still not here."

He glanced around. "Hmm... wasn't she here just a few minutes ago?"

"She was," I said softly. "Mercy and I talked to her. Then her boyfriend called, and she seemed... upset. I don't know what happened after that."

"Maybe she just stepped out. She'll be back soon," he said with a calm smile.

"I hope so," I murmured, but unease twisted in my chest.

The last testimony ended. The M.C. announced the offering. My pulse quickened. Still no sign of Marienne. I scanned the room anxiously.

"Pastor... she's still not back," I whispered, panic rising. "Someone else can lead, right?"

"There should be," he murmured. "Don't worry. She'll be back any minute." But my hands were trembling now, and my heart beat faster with every passing moment.

The offering exhortation ended. The congregation stood. Still, no music filled the air.

"Praise God for His provision!" the M.C. called out.

"You know the songs, right?" Pastor Melchour leaned in, his voice calm but steady.

I froze. "Yes... but why?"

His eyes met mine, and a faint smile curved his lips. "Looks like it's your turn."

"What? Pastor, no! I'm just a backup singer—" My voice caught in my throat.

He placed his hands firmly on my shoulders, his eyes steady, unwavering. "Anna. Whether backup or leader, it's all worship. God wants your heart. Don't think about perfection. Just offer Him everything. You can do this."

My breath came in shallow gasps. "But... what if I mess up? What if my voice shakes? What if—"

He squeezed my shoulders gently, his voice low but firm. "The only way to learn how to lead worship... is to lead worship. Trust Him, Anna. Step out, even if you're trembling. He'll meet you there."

For a heartbeat, I hesitated—fear clawing at my chest. But then, something deeper stirred—a quiet courage, fragile but unyielding.

I closed my eyes. Drew in a shaky breath. And stepped forward.