Mia sat in the café, absent mindedly stirring her coffee as Emma's words echoed in her mind: "I know someone who is able to help." It had been weeks since Alex's prognosis, which was a reminder that this a terminal illness with NO cure. Every passing day felt heavier, as though hope was slipping through her fingers. She glanced at her phone, rereading Emma's text one more time. Samuel has prayed for healing over many people. I believe God uses him. Please, trust me and meet him.
Later that evening, Emma arrived at Mia's apartment, her eyes shining with conviction. She carried a Bible and a small notebook filled with testimonies about Samuel, a retired missionary who had been known for miraculous healings.
"Emma, I don't know if Alex will go for this," Mia confessed, pacing. "He's… practical. He's barely holding on, and if this doesn't work—"
Emma cut her off gently. "This isn't about magic or guarantees, Mia. It's about faith—his and yours. God doesn't ask us to understand; He asks us to have faith, to simply believe. Scripture says if you have faith as little as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, remove from here to there and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you. That's found in Matthew 17:20. Do you believe Mia?"
That night, Mia garbled between two thoughts; Emma's question and just how important Alex has become to her. She could not bear the thought of loosing him. While pondering on Emma's question unable to shake it off, the Scripture Emma mentioned came in mind. "what even is the size of a mustard seed she curiously asked herself?" She grabbed her phone and quickly Googled it and there the images popped up. The seeds where very tiny grains, she scrolled and found one particular image. One mustard seed held on a finger which looked more like a tinny spec of dote. It was then that it all suddenly dawned on Mia. At this point, where she is, she does not need big faith the size of a water melon, the size of orange or even a grape, what she needed what faith the size of a mustard seed.
It was then that she burst out in tears, fell on her knees and cried out. "God, I want to believe, I choose to believe. I am sorry for all the times I doubted your existence. Growing up, I went to go to Church but never really believed for myself. But now Lord, I choose to believe. I surrender all to you now. Not just for Alex's heeling but for my own soul too. Forgive me for all the wrong decisions I've made, I surrender my whole life to you". In that very moment Mia felt a kind of deep peace and almost like an invisible warm embraces. She just could not explain it. Kneeling there she found her self smiling almost like an assurance that God had heard her. For the first time, she felt a spark of hope flicker not just for her life but also for the man her heart skips a beat for.
The next day, Mia struggled to find the words as she sat with Alex. She finally blurted with a shy smile, "There is something I need to tell you...I think I have finally found God for myself." It's too long but in summary I've spoking with Emma and she told me of a minster who can heal you if only we believe with a faith like a mustard seed. Puzzled I got back home yesterday, I just couldn't get it off my head. When I Googled the size of a mustard seed, Alex it is a tiny spec. It was then that I discerned that God is not asking much of me. I didn't realize when I burst out in tears, the tears flooding out. Crying out to God. At the end a sudden peace melted my heart.
Alex raised an eyebrow, his exhaustion etched into his face. "Mia, you know how I feel about stuff like that…"
"I know, I know. You don't have to say much I understand" she said, kneeling beside him. "I am not asking you to convert but to just simply let's go over so he can pray for you. Emma says he's genuine. Please, Alex. Just one visit."
Alex hesitated, then nodded slowly. "If it means that much to you, I'll go."
A week later, they stood outside Samuel's modest chapel in a quiet clearing. The building was humble, with weathered stone walls and ivy creeping over the edges. Inside, the atmosphere was serene, filled with candlelight and soft hymns playing in the background. The air felt heavy, yet not with dread but with something unspoken—hope, perhaps?