Tell me there's no God.
Tell me that He's not there.

But I know better.

I've witnessed so many miracles, so much mercy, that moving me would be nearly impossible.

I have a younger cousin, who was born prematurely. He weighed in at a little over one pound. His daddy could literally take his wedding band and slide it all the way up his tiny arm.
Doctors prepared the family for the worse. They speculated that if he lived, there was a great possibilty he'd be mentally handicapped.
But my God is still on the throne, and He continues to answer prayers and preform miracles. He's all-knowing and soveriegn. And He loves.
Tristan turns 12 in January, and he's nearly a straight A student.

The same boy.
He, his older cousin, and two others were out in the woods this past weekend. They were just having some fun riding around on the neighboor's Gator. But it had gotten dark and they couldn't see where they were going.
The Gator tumbled down into a small ravine. It had come a great, flooding rain here a few days ago, and there was flowing water in this ravine.
All of the boys had managed to jump off of the Gator - but, where was Tristan?
He was pinned underneath the overturned vehicle at the bottom of the ravine. He just could keep his little head above the water.
While the boys ran for help, he managed to muster up enough strength to keep his head up, and not tire and go under.
His daddy came and pulled it off of him.
He walked away with only a banged up knee.
Because his mighty Daddy up above held that vehicle up with one hand, and held his head with another.

Tell me there's no God.
Tell me that He's not there.

But I know better.