Despite being a small man, he seemed larger than life, partially due to his perpetually ebullient smile and relentlessly positive demeanor, and partially due to his shaggy black hair and bushy beard. Everyone at church adored the man and always joked about how much he resembled one of Jesus’s apostles, which in fact he was.

It was around midnight when Tim arrived, hurriedly brushing the snow off his shoulders and stomping his boots. They thanked him for coming out so late at night, particularly with the roads in such poor condition. Tim pooh-poohed this, threw his overcoat and scarf on a chair, and immediately went to the patient’s bedside. He gently kissed Frankie on the forehead and bent close to him, whispering. The baby appeared to be sleeping soundly.

Carolyn and Mitch were explaining how things had happened and Frankie’s medical condition, when Tim suddenly lifted up his head, looked at them with a broad smile, and said, “He’s going to be fine.” Almost laughing, he added, “All we have to do is pray.”

Right then there was a shift in the room. The atmosphere changed, and Mitch and Carolyn tentatively started to laugh along with Tim, though they didn’t know why, and it made absolutely no sense at all.

“Pastor Tim!” They turned to see one of the nurses, an attractive, middle-aged black woman, who had helped to get Frankie settled a while before. She immediately caught him in a clinch and burst out laughing. “I’m so glad to see you, Tim. You’re just what the doctor ordered!”

“Billie, it’s been ages! How are you? Are you still singing at Redeemer?”

“I sure am, Tim! And will be for as long as the Lord blesses me with another breath, you can bet on that!”

They caught up on old acquaintances, and then turned their attention to the baby in the bed. Mitch was a bit dumbfounded, and didn’t know what to say, so he immediately put his foot in his mouth.

“Well, I figured that when all else failed, it was time to call you, Tim!”

Despite the bone-crushing foolishness of his statement, Tim put both hands on Mitch’s shoulders and kindly said, “But talking to God is the first thing you should always do, and I’ll bet you’ve already been doing a lot of praying. All you have to do is have a little faith, so let’s get to work!”

The four of them circled the bed and placed their hands on Frankie, and Tim began to speak, his voice echoing down the hall. He appeared to be speaking to God as if He were standing right there in the room.