Our Daily Walk With Christ
What God Can Do
My name is Everett E. Arnett.
My dad was Everett J. Arnett, and my mother was Lela Bell Arnett. My story began on a cold December morning, two days before New Year’s Day in 1951. We lived in a little community called Victor, Missouri, about halfway between Paris and Perry, just south of Highway 154 in Monroe County.
As a young boy, I attended a small country school called Bonsel, a couple of miles west of Victor. Life was simple then. My dad would take my sisters and me to church most Sundays at Stoutsville Baptist Church in Stoutsville, Missouri.
I remember my Sunday school teacher telling me and my friends that we could always count on Jesus being there. She told us that Jesus loved us more than life itself and that was why He died on the cross for us.
I didn’t really understand what she meant.
My friends and I would chuckle about it. We wondered how it could be that some stranger would die for us when He didn’t even know us.
We were just boys.
We didn’t understand that the man she was talking about wasn’t a stranger at all.
He was Jesus.
And He already knew me.
Years passed. When I was in the eighth grade, the school district closed Bonsel School and transferred us to the Paris School District. Our family moved to a small farmhouse northwest of Paris, just off Blacktop F.
By then, I had stopped going to church. I hadn’t been inside a church for probably two years.
Then, when I was a junior in high school, I met a young girl named Rita Ragsdale.
At the time, I didn’t know much about Rita or her background. She was about a year younger than me and lived six or seven miles southwest of Paris, off Highway 154.
Rita introduced me to her parents and her three sisters, Nancy, Jackie, and Cheryl. Cheryl was married to a young man named Robert Johnson.
Robert told me about Jesus.
It was almost the same message my Sunday school teacher at Stoutsville Baptist Church had told me years before.
I didn’t know it then, but God was beginning to place pieces of my life together.
I began attending a small nondenominational church in Holliday, Missouri, led by a pastor named Helen Bailey.
Rita and I were married on January 16, 1972, at Paris Baptist Church, with Pastor Helen Bailey performing the ceremony.
At that point in my life, church was on my list of things to do—but it was a long, long way down that list.
A few months later, Rita gave birth to our first daughter, Melissa Dawn Arnett.
When Melissa was three or four months old, Rita wanted to have her dedicated to the Lord.
I refused.
I had been hurt and angry about some things that had been said at church, and I wasn’t going to let Rita dedicate our daughter.
Rita told me she was going to church the following Sunday and that she was going to have Melissa dedicated anyway.
We went to church.
We sat about two rows from the back.
I told Rita, “If you get up and take Melissa forward, I’m getting up and walking out.”
The sermon ended, and Helen gave the usual altar call.
Rita got up.
She took Melissa and started walking toward the front.
I got up and headed for the door.
As I walked outside, the pastor’s husband followed me. He stopped me on the sidewalk and asked me a question I’ll never forget.
“Don’t you believe in what we’re doing?”
I told him, “No, I don’t.”
Then I got in my car and drove away.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but something had changed.
A wedge had been driven between Rita and me.
At first, it was just a little something—a little distance, a little resentment, a little anger.
But that little wedge grew.
Troubles seemed to appear out of nowhere. Arguments became more frequent. The joy we once had seemed to disappear.
Eventually, we moved to Paris.
We had three more daughters, and our girls brought so much love and joy into our lives that they often pushed the problems between Rita and me into the background.
But the problems were still there.
They were simply hidden from everyone else.
By then, I had earned my truck-driving license and was driving over the road for Emerson Electric Company. I was making good money and was usually home on weekends.
But those weekends weren’t what they should have been.
Instead of enjoying our time together, Rita and I often spent them arguing and fighting. Then I would leave again, heading back out on the road, and we would both be miserable.
We were both nearing the end of our rope.
Then one day Rita mentioned going back to church.
I exploded.
I told her that church had started this whole mess years ago.
“Why would you want to try that again?”
I didn’t understand that God was about to use the very thing I blamed for my problems to lead me to the answer.
At the time, I had a driving partner named Joe Lafferty. We ran as a team in the truck.
One Sunday evening, we left Centralia, Missouri, headed for New York.
Joe drove the first shift, and somewhere in Illinois we switched.
I took the wheel and continued east across Indiana.
Then something happened that seemed so ordinary at the time.
I heard a preacher on the radio.
For some reason, I decided to listen.
The preacher began talking about a man named Jesus.
He talked about how Jesus had given His life for me.
He talked about how much Jesus loved me.
Suddenly, I remembered my Sunday school teacher from Stoutsville Baptist Church.
It sounded just like what she had told me when I was a boy.
I chuckled to myself.
But I kept listening.
I drove all the way to the Ohio state line.
It was Joe’s turn to drive.
We pulled into a truck stop. Joe drank some coffee, I had a glass of milk, and we climbed back into the truck.
I curled up in that nice, warm sleeper.
I was still thinking about that preacher and that message.
I chuckled again.
Then I fell asleep.
And that’s when everything changed.
I had a dream.
I was high in the air, above the clouds.
There was nothing around me.
No trees.
No hills.
No land.
Nothing.
Just emptiness.
But somehow, I wasn’t falling.
Something was holding me.
I looked up.
There was a hand reaching down from the clouds.
That hand was holding mine.
I knew that if I let go, I would fall.
And if I fell, I would die.
Then I felt my hand beginning to slip.
My fingers were slowly coming loose.
My heart began pounding.
I looked up at the hand again.
My fingers were almost gone.
I knew I was about to fall.
Then I woke up.
I was covered in sweat.
My heart was pounding so hard I thought it was going to come out of my chest.
I had ripped the curtain from the snaps.
I could see that the truck was parked, but I didn’t know where we were.
I slid into the passenger seat.
The driver’s door was open.
Joe was outside yelling at the top of his voice,
“What the devil is wrong with you?”
I told him, “Get in. I have something I need to do.”
I asked him to drive to the next truck stop because I needed to make a phone call.
As I got dressed, Joe continued lecturing me about how scaring your driving partner while he’s driving down the highway wasn’t a very good idea.
Finally, we pulled into the next truck stop.
I went straight to the pay phone.
I called Rita.
When she answered, I told her, “I need you to do something for me.”
I asked her to call Robert Johnson, her brother-in-law, and ask him if I could come to his church the following Sunday when I got home.
Robert was now the pastor of a small church in Middle Grove, south of Madison, Missouri.
What I didn’t know at the time was that Rita had already been praying.
She had started attending a church outside of Paris. She had told the ladies there about the arguments and fighting between us.
Those ladies prayed for us.
They even prayed over a piece of cloth.
Rita cut that cloth into little strips and placed them in my suitcase, in my wallet, and in other places where they would come in contact with me.
Two weeks after she had done that, I had the dream.
I don’t know exactly how God chooses to answer every prayer.
I don’t know how He used those pieces of cloth.
But I know this:
God was working.
He was working while I was angry.
He was working while I was fighting.
He was working while I was blaming Him.
He was working while I was driving down the highway, convinced I didn’t need Him.
He was working when I was asleep in the sleeper of an over-the-road truck.
And He was working when I finally reached out for Him.
The following Sunday, I went to Robert’s church.
When the sermon was over, Robert gave the altar call.
I don’t think my feet ever touched the floor.
I went straight to that altar.
I got down on my knees.
My eyes filled with tears.
And I gave my heart to the Lord.
At 36 years old, after years of running, arguing, blaming, and rejecting Him, I finally surrendered.
I met my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ in the sleeper of an over-the-road truck headed east toward New York.
And the following Sunday, I knelt at an altar and He forgave me.
I wish I could tell you that everything became perfect that day.
It didn’t.
Rita and I still had arguments.
We still had fights.
We still had problems.
But something had changed.
God began teaching me how to be a better husband.
He began teaching me how to be a better man.
He began teaching me how to love.
The arguments became fewer.
The times between them became longer.
The relationship between Rita and me began to heal.
The closeness we once had slowly began to return.
God didn’t just change my circumstances.
He began changing me.
Our daughters grew up and eventually began living their own lives.
Today, Rita and I experience what people call the “empty nest.”
And you know what?
We love it!
We have been blessed to watch our girls grow into their own lives, and we are thankful for every moment God has given us with them.
When I look back over my life, there is one question I still can’t answer:
Why?
Why would Jesus want to save someone like me?
I had rejected Him.
I had blamed Him.
I had accused Him of being the cause of problems in my marriage.
I had walked away from Him.
And yet He never walked away from me.
For more than thirty years, I didn’t understand what my Sunday school teacher had been trying to tell me.
I thought Jesus was a stranger who somehow died for people He didn’t even know.
Now I understand.
He wasn’t a stranger.
He knew me before I ever knew Him.
He knew the mistakes I would make.
He knew the anger I would carry.
He knew the things I would say.
He knew the times I would reject Him.
And He still went to the cross.
He still stretched out His hands.
He still shed His blood.
He still died for me.
The truth is, I should have been the one on that cross because of my sins.
But Jesus took my place.
That is love.
Real love.
The kind of love I didn’t understand as a little boy.
The kind of love I didn’t understand when I walked out of that church.
The kind of love I didn’t understand when I blamed God for my problems.
The kind of love I finally experienced when I knelt at that altar.
Because Jesus first loved me, He taught me how to love my wife.
He taught me that being a husband isn’t about always being right.
It isn’t about winning arguments.
It isn’t about having things your way.
It is about learning to love sacrificially—the way Christ loved me.
I cannot repay Jesus for what He did for me.
I cannot make myself worthy of His blood.
All I can do is give Him my life and pray that the way I live it brings honor to the One who saved me.
The Lord has been good to me.
Far better than I deserve.
And when I look back, I can see His hand reaching down through every chapter of my life.
I can see Him in the little country church in Stoutsville.
I can see Him in the words of a Sunday school teacher.
I can see Him when Rita entered my life.
I can see Him through Robert’s testimony.
I can see Him in the prayers of those ladies.
I can see Him in the radio preacher’s message somewhere across Indiana.
And I can see Him most clearly in that dream.
High above the clouds, with nothing beneath me but emptiness, I was holding onto a hand.
I thought the dream was about me holding onto God.
But after all these years, I wonder if it was really about something else.
Maybe it was God showing me that when I couldn’t hold onto Him anymore, He was still holding onto me.
For years I thought I was the one who had walked away from God.
But now I know He never walked away from me.
My Sunday school teacher was right.
Jesus was always there.
He loved me more than life itself.
And after more than thirty years, I finally understood what she had been trying to tell a little country boy.
That is what God can do.
He can take a hard heart and soften it.
He can take a broken marriage and begin putting it back together.
He can take anger and replace it with forgiveness.
He can take a man who has spent years running from Him and bring him home.
He can reach into the darkest places of our lives and remind us that we are never alone.
And He can take a life that seems to be falling apart and turn it into a testimony.
I am living proof.
My name is Everett E. Arnett.
I was once the little boy who laughed at the thought of Jesus dying for someone He didn’t even know.
I became the young man who walked away.
I became the husband who blamed God for his troubles.
But one night, in the sleeper of an over-the-road truck headed east toward New York, I discovered something I should have known all along:
Jesus knew me.
Jesus loved me.
Jesus was there.
And He had never let go.
Power Of Prayer
It was before social media, and I had compiled an extensive email list of people in the church that we called a “prayer chain.” I went home and emailed them, asking them to pray and fast for Zach – Jesus, give him a new heart! A week later, the hospital confirmed they had a new heart for Zach!
Over two years ago, Robert Conboy, Zach’s twin brother, came down with the same heart disease. The prayer chain was notified and again a new heart was found with in a day or so. We continue to pray for Zach and Robert’s sister, Brianna, in hopes that she does not have to undergo a heart transplant.
The power of prayer can be miraculous. This story of Zach, Robert and Brianna proves that when we put our trust in God, He will come to our aid, and miracles can and will happen. The power of prayer is so strong that it can even overcome direst circumstances.
Prayer is a fundamental aspect of Christian life, yet many of us struggle with understanding its true nature and its transformative power. Prayer has the power to change circumstances and transform lives. It’s not just about asking for what we want but aligning ourselves with God’s will. When we pray, we should approach God with humility, recognizing that we are on His time and agenda. Approaching God with humility is essential. Recognizing that we are in a place where we don’t belong, invited by God’s grace, helps us maintain the right attitude in prayer. This humility allows us to be more receptive to God’s guidance.
God is Not a Genie. Many people treat prayer as a means to get what they want, like asking a genie for wishes. However, prayer is about seeking God’s will and understanding His plans for us. It’s about building a relationship with God, not just making requests.
Prayer is not just an individual act but also a corporate one. As a church family, we have a responsibility to pray together, seeking God’s will for our community. Corporate prayer strengthens our collective faith and aligns us with God’s purpose.
Another popular idea is that the amount of faith we have determines whether or not God will answer our prayers. However, sometimes the Lord answers our prayers in spite of our own lack of faith. In Acts 12, the church prays for Peter’s release from prison (5), and God answers their prayer (7-11). Peter goes to the door of the prayer meeting and knocks, but those who are praying refuse at first to believe that it is really Peter. They prayed he would be released, but they failed to expect an answer to their prayers.
The power of prayer does not flow from us; it is not special words we say or the special way we say them or even how often we say them. The power of prayer is not based on a certain direction we face or a certain position of our bodies. The power of prayer does not come from the use of artifacts or icons or candles or beads. The power of prayer comes from the omnipotent One who hears our prayers and answers them. Prayer places us in contact with Almighty God, and we should expect almighty results, whether or not He chooses to grant our petitions or deny our requests. Whatever the answer to our prayers, the God to whom we pray is the source of the power of prayer, and He can and will answer us, according to His perfect will and timing.
What Is True Worship?
The apostle Paul described true worship perfectly in Romans 12:1-2: “I urge you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God which is your spiritual service of worship. And do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable, or well pleasing and perfect.”
This passage contains all the elements of true worship. First, there is the motivation to worship: “the mercies of God.” God’s mercies are everything He has given us that we don’t deserve: eternal love, eternal grace, the Holy Spirit, everlasting peace, eternal joy, saving faith, comfort, strength, wisdom, hope, patience, kindness, honor, glory, righteousness, security, eternal life, forgiveness, reconciliation, justification, sanctification, freedom, intercession and much more. The knowledge and understanding of these incredible gifts motivate us to pour forth praise and thanksgiving—in other words, worship!
Also in the passage is a description of the manner of our worship: “present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice.” Presenting our bodies means giving to God all of ourselves. The reference to our bodies here means all our human faculties, all of our humanness—our hearts, minds, hands, thoughts, attitudes—are to be presented to God. In other words, we are to give up control of these things and turn them over to Him, just as a literal sacrifice was given totally to God on the altar. But how? Again, the passage is clear: “by the renewing of your mind.” We renew our minds daily by cleansing them of the world’s “wisdom” and replacing it with true wisdom that comes from God. We worship Him with our renewed and cleansed minds, not with our emotions. Emotions are wonderful things, but unless they are shaped by a mind saturated in Truth, they can be destructive, out-of-control forces. Where the mind goes, the will follows, and so do the emotions. First Corinthians 2:16 tells us we have “the mind of Christ,” not the emotions of Christ.
There is only one way to renew our minds, and that is by the Word of God. It is the truth, the knowledge of the Word of God, which is to say the knowledge of the mercies of God, and we’re back where we began. To know the truth, to believe the truth, to hold convictions about the truth, and to love the truth will naturally result in true spiritual worship. It is conviction followed by affection, affection that is a response to truth, not to any external stimuli, including music. Music as such has nothing to do with worship. Music can’t produce worship, although it certainly can produce emotion. Music is not the origin of worship, but it can be the expression of it. Do not look to music to induce your worship; look to music as simply an expression of that which is induced by a heart that is rapt by the mercies of God, obedient to His commands.
True worship is God-centered worship. People tend to get caught up in where they should worship, what music they should sing in worship, and how their worship looks to other people. Focusing on these things misses the point. Jesus tells us that true worshipers will worship God in spirit and in truth John 4:24. This means we worship from the heart and the way God has designed. Worship can include praying, reading God’s Word with an open heart, singing, participating in communion, and serving others. It is not limited to one act, but is done properly when the heart and attitude of the person are in the right place.
It’s also important to know that worship is reserved only for God. Only He is worthy and not any of His servants Revelation 19:10. We are not to worship saints, prophets, statues, angels, any false gods, or Mary, the mother of Jesus. We also should not be worshiping for the expectation of something in return, such as a miraculous healing. Worship is done for God—because He deserves it—and for His pleasure alone. Worship can be public praise to God Psalm 22:22; 35:18 in a congregational setting, where we can proclaim through prayer and praise our adoration and thankfulness to Him and what He has done for us. True worship is felt inwardly and then is expressed through our actions. “Worshiping” out of obligation is displeasing to God and is completely in vain. He can see through all the hypocrisy, and He hates it. He demonstrates this in Amos 5:21-24 as He talks about coming judgment. Another example is the story of Cain and Abel, the first sons of Adam and Eve. They both brought gift offerings to the Lord, but God was only pleased with Abel’s. Cain brought the gift out of obligation; Abel brought his finest lambs from his flock. He brought out of faith and admiration for God.
True worship is not confined to what we do in church or open praise (although these things are both good, and we are told in the Bible to do them). True worship is the acknowledgment of God and all His power and glory in everything we do. The highest form of praise and worship is obedience to Him and His Word. To do this, we must know God; we cannot be ignorant of Him Acts 17:23. Worship is to glorify and exalt God—to show our loyalty and admiration to our Father.