Tag: faith

The Miracle of Healing

“The Night I Experienced God’s Promise of Healing”

There are moments on this faith journey where words seem too small, too simple, to capture what really happened. Healing is one of those moments.

When I think about healing, I don’t just think of it as something I’ve read about in the Bible, or something that happened long ago. I think of it as something I’ve lived, something I’ve seen with my own eyes, and something I’ve felt in my own body. Yes, I have experienced physical healings—real, unexplainable, miraculous healings.

One of the first times this happened was at the very beginning of my journey. There was a two-week seminar at William Duncan Memorial Church. Every night, people gathered for worship, teaching, and prayer. That week’s focus was healing.

At the time, I was so sick—a nasty chest cold, fever, sore throat, stuffed nose, the works. I could barely breathe and I honestly thought, I shouldn’t go. I’ll just stay home and rest. But something tugged at me. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe faith starting to take root, maybe just desperation. Whatever it was, I went.

I sat alone on purpose, not wanting to spread my sickness to anyone else. As the service went on, there came a time of prayer. Something in me rose up and thought, I want prayer. Maybe, just maybe, I can be healed.

And that’s when it happened.

An elder behind me began to pray. As she prayed, I suddenly felt heat flow through my chest—so real and so powerful I can still remember it vividly today. In an instant, my lungs cleared. My nose opened. My ears popped. My throat stopped hurting. The fever broke. Just like that—bam—I was healed!

I can’t explain it by science or logic. All I know is I walked into that church sick, and I walked out completely well.

Since then, I’ve experienced other healings in my own life and have witnessed others being touched in the same miraculous way. Each time, I’m reminded of what Scripture promises—that healing is not just a story from the past, but a reality that can still happen today.

Do I fully understand it? No. But I believe it. I’ve lived it. Healing is real, and it’s a gift that points us back to the One who still works miracles.

That night of healing marked a turning point for me. It wasn’t just about being physically well again—it was about learning firsthand that God is faithful to His promises. Ever since then, I’ve carried that memory with me, especially when I face struggles or pray for others. It strengthened my trust that God really does hear us, and that He still moves in ways we can’t explain. Today, when I pray for people who are sick or hurting, I do it with a quiet confidence, remembering what He did for me. That moment taught me that healing is more than just a miracle—it’s a reminder of His love, His presence, and His power at work in our everyday lives.

Scripture says, “And the prayer of faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up” (James 5:15). I’ve seen that truth alive in my own life. Today, when I pray for people who are sick or hurting, I do it with a quiet confidence, remembering what He did for me. That moment taught me that healing is more than just a miracle—it’s a reminder of His love, His presence, and His power at work in our everyday lives.

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A Stirring is happening right now!

Blog Post for “Notes by Alex”
By Alex Atkinson

A Stirring I Cannot Shake: The Weight of a Dangerous Anointing

Lately, I have sensed a stirring in my heart — one I haven’t felt in a long time. It’s persistent. Gentle, yet weighty. I can’t shake it, and truthfully, I don’t want to. This stirring is not born from emotion or circumstance; it’s deeper. It’s a holy unrest. A spiritual nudge from the One who sees all, knows all, and calls us forward.

Our Creator is on the move.

I found myself recently listening to the voice of a general of the faith — Kathryn Kuhlman. Her words didn’t just inspire me; they broke me. Her voice, her heart, her deep reverence for the Holy Spirit struck a place in me that I didn’t realize had grown quiet.

And then it hit me: everything she was declaring — about the cost, the calling, and the surrender — felt like it was aimed right at my heart. That’s when I heard this phrase, echoing in my spirit:

“You are dangerously anointed by God.”

At first, it sounded bold, maybe even dramatic. But the more I sat with it, the more I realized how weighty and true that phrase is for anyone chosen, called, and set apart by God.

What Does It Mean to Be Dangerously Anointed?

It’s not about platform, power, or prestige. Being dangerously anointed means your life has become a threat to the enemy’s plans. It means you carry something holy — not for your glory, but for God’s. And that comes with a cost.

Here’s what I’ve come to understand:

1. Chosen and Set Apart

The anointing begins with a divine choosing. You didn’t ask for it — it finds you. You’re pulled into something greater than yourself, something eternal.

2. Empowered by the Spirit

The Holy Spirit empowers the anointed to fulfill their assignment. Not through talent or charisma, but through surrender and obedience.

3. Spiritual Warfare

That anointing draws fire. It attracts spiritual resistance. The enemy sees the threat and tries to neutralize it — through discouragement, distraction, and destruction.

4. Cost and Sacrifice

This journey is not glamorous. It’s lonely at times. You may be misunderstood, rejected, even attacked. But every step costs something — pride, comfort, reputation — and it’s all laid down for the sake of the call.

5. Atmosphere Shifter

Dangerously anointed people carry the presence of God in such a way that it shifts rooms, breaks chains, and awakens hearts. They carry light into darkness.

Signs You Might Be Dangerously Anointed

  • Unexplainable Attacks – Trouble seems to find you, even when you aren’t looking for it.
  • Spiritual Battles – You wrestle with fear, doubt, and pressure.
  • Opposition from Others – Even those close to you may not understand the weight you carry.
  • Deep Compassion – You feel burdened for others, interceding for them with intensity.
  • Holy Dissatisfaction – You crave more of God and less of this world.
  • Breaking and Refining – God brings you to the end of yourself so He can fill you fully.

This Anointing Is Not a Badge of Honor

Let’s be clear: this is not about elevating oneself. The anointing is a responsibility, not a reward. It demands humility, dependence, and discernment.

Sometimes the most anointed people are the quietest ones — praying behind the scenes, obeying God in obscurity, carrying burdens only He sees.

My Takeaway in This Stirring Season

I don’t fully understand everything God is doing. But I sense the shift. I feel the breaking and the reordering. The Spirit is moving again in my life in a way I can’t deny. And I believe He’s doing it in others too — maybe in you.

If you feel the pressure, the hunger, the burden — don’t run from it. Let it drive you to the One who is calling. Let it humble you. Let it refine you.

This stirring is holy.

And our Creator is not finished with you yet.

Pull Quotes for Sharing

  • “The stirring in your spirit may be the signal that God is calling you deeper.”
  • “Being dangerously anointed means your life is a threat to darkness — not a trophy for men.”
  • “God doesn’t anoint the comfortable. He anoints the surrendered.”
  • “There’s a cost to the anointing — but the presence of God is worth it all.”
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What Makes a Leader? Good, Bad, and Growing in Grace

From Faults to Faith: My Journey to Understanding Grace in Leadership

Hey everyone, and welcome back to Notes by Alex!

For as long as I can remember, leadership has been a topic that utterly fascinates me. I’ve spent years observing, reflecting, and trying to understand what truly makes a good leader, and just as importantly, what contributes to a bad one. It’s a journey of discernment that has, over time, led me to a deeper understanding, particularly when viewed through a Christian lens.

The Reality of Leadership, Christian or Not

One of the most profound realizations I’ve had is this: Christians are not exempt from faults and failures. This might sound obvious, but sometimes we, myself included, can fall into the trap of expecting perfection from those in Christian leadership roles. The truth is, we’re all human. We all make mistakes, we all stumble, and yes, even leaders in the Christian world have their shortcomings.

It’s precisely in these moments of human frailty that the incredible power of grace truly comes into focus. We hear about grace, we talk about grace, but experiencing it – both as the one who extends it and the one who desperately needs it – is an entirely different matter.

My Own Journey with Failure and Grace

I can personally attest to this. There have been times in my own life, in various capacities of leadership, where I have failed. And let me tell you, those moments are humbling. They’re raw. But they’re also incredibly formative. It was through one such period of personal failure that the lyrics of the hymn “Amazing Grace” stopped being just words and became a profound, personal reality. “I once was lost, but now am found; Was blind, but now I see.” It was in that brokenness that I truly began to grasp the boundless love and forgiveness that grace offers.

Learning and Growing from Our Flaws

This brings me to a crucial point about leadership: when a leader fails and has faults, it’s not necessarily the end. In fact, it’s often a profound opportunity to learn and to grow.

Think about it:

  • Humility: Failure often breeds humility, which is an essential characteristic of a good leader. It reminds us that we are not infallible and that we need God’s guidance and the support of others.
  • Empathy: Having experienced failure or shortcomings can cultivate a deeper empathy for those we lead who are struggling. It helps us to approach situations with compassion rather than judgment.
  • Resilience: Overcoming setbacks builds resilience. A leader who has navigated difficult personal waters is often better equipped to lead others through challenges.
  • Authenticity: When a leader is transparent about their struggles and how they’ve learned from them, it builds trust and allows others to see them as a real, relatable person, not just a figurehead.

Of course, there’s a distinction to be made between a leader who makes a mistake and genuinely learns from it, and one who repeatedly acts out of character or demonstrates a consistent pattern of harmful behavior without accountability. But for those who are truly committed to growth, failure can be a powerful teacher.

What are your thoughts on leadership, both good and bad, particularly from a perspective that embraces human imperfection and the transformative power of grace? I’d love to hear your insights in the comments below!

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Leading from the Pew: What It Takes to Guide a Church as a Layperson

“Guiding with Grace, Not a Title”

By Alexander Atkinson Jr.

Leadership in the church isn’t reserved for those with a title or theological degree. Throughout Scripture and history, God has consistently raised up faithful men and women—shepherds, tentmakers, fishermen, and elders—to lead His people. In many small or rural communities, especially, the church is often led not by a full-time pastor, but by lay leaders—faithful elders who carry the burden and blessing of guiding the body of Christ.

So what does it take to lead a church as a layperson?

Let’s explore some key elements:

1. A Life Anchored in Prayer and the Word

You can’t lead spiritually if you’re not being led spiritually.

An elder doesn’t need to preach every Sunday, but they do need to be immersed in the Scriptures and sensitive to the voice of God. Leading others begins with your own walk. This includes a disciplined life of prayer—not just for yourself, but for the church, its future, and each member. Leading without the Holy Spirit is like steering a ship without a compass.

“Spiritual authority flows from spiritual intimacy.”

2. Servant Leadership over Position

Jesus made it clear: “The greatest among you will be your servant.” (Matthew 23:11)

As a lay leader, you’re not above anyone else. You’re called to model humility, to serve with open hands and a willing heart. Leadership in the church looks like listening more than speaking, stepping in when things need to be done, and mentoring the next generation of believers with grace and patience.

3. Unity and Vision

One of the main roles of an elder or lay leader is to help preserve unity and direction.

Without a clear sense of purpose, a church can become divided or stagnant. Lay leaders often serve as bridge-builders—bringing people together, resolving tensions, and reminding the body of its mission. Whether it’s organizing outreach, fostering discipleship, or planning services, the goal is always the same: to keep the church aligned with God’s heart and Word.

4. Spiritual Maturity and Accountability

A lay leader should be someone others look to—not because they’re perfect, but because they’re growing.

Paul’s instructions to Timothy about elders include being “above reproach,” self-controlled, hospitable, and not a lover of money. These qualities matter. Lay leaders must be willing to be accountable, to correct in love, and to accept correction themselves. The weight of leadership is not light—but it is rewarding when handled with integrity.

5. Relational Strength and Emotional Availability

Pastoral care isn’t just for pastors.

People in the church need to be seen, heard, and loved. Lay leaders often fill in the gaps—visiting the sick, counseling the struggling, checking in on the hurting. It’s less about having all the answers and more about being present, being real, and being consistent.

6. Faithfulness in the Small Things

Much of church leadership happens behind the scenes.

Setting up chairs. Opening the doors. Preparing communion. Calling someone who’s been absent. These aren’t glamorous tasks, but they matter deeply. Faithfulness in the small builds credibility in the big. Elders who are steady and dependable—even when no one is watching—create a culture of service and trust.

Final Thoughts

To lead a church as a layperson is no small calling. It demands prayerfulness, humility, vision, maturity, and love. It’s not about having a pulpit, but about carrying a cross. Not about titles, but about testimony. And the beauty is—God honors it. He uses ordinary people to do extraordinary things in His name.

If you’re a lay leader, or stepping into that role, take heart. You don’t have to do it perfectly—just faithfully. And remember: you’re not leading alone. Christ is the true Shepherd. You’re simply walking in step with Him, helping others do the same.

“Shepherd the flock of God that is among you… not domineering over those in your charge, but being examples to the flock.” — 1 Peter 5:2-3

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“The Night I Discovered What My Heart Had Been Searching For”

What the Gospel Means to Me
By Alexander Atkinson Jr.

I’ve been sitting with this thought for quite some time: What does the Gospel mean to you?

For me, the Gospel isn’t just a message—it’s a journey. A love story, really. One that started way back when I was just a child attending Sunday school at the William Duncan Memorial Church, back when it was still a Methodist church. That’s where I first heard the name Jesus. There were good lessons—stories about kindness, miracles, and this man who loved people deeply. But as a kid, I didn’t fully grasp it. I heard the stories, but I didn’t feel them yet.

Years passed, and when I was 18, my family—Mom, Dad, and my sister—started attending the same church again. Only now, it had become an Assembly of God church. And wow… it was different. The place felt alive. I mean really alive. The music, the energy, the joy—it was contagious. I remember seeing the youth group around town, and something inside me stirred. I couldn’t explain it then, but it was like my heart whispered, They’ve got something I need.

I felt the same thing watching my parents. A kind of peace. A light. A quiet strength. I wanted that.

Then one cold October evening, everything changed.

My cousin, best friend, and I were walking near the Duncan Church when we heard music spilling out the front doors. Guitars, singing, voices full of life. The church was packed. I felt this strong pull, like something—or Someone—was calling me in. I said, “Hey, let’s go inside. It might be warm in there.” (That was the excuse I gave, anyway.)

So we walked in and found a seat near the back. I felt a little awkward but strangely at home. The singing was electric. The preacher was full of fire and joy. I don’t remember the message or what he preached that night—but I do remember the moment that came next.

He gave what’s called an altar call, an invitation for anyone who wanted prayer or to make a decision to follow Jesus. And in that moment, I knew: This is it. This is what I’ve been searching for.
My hand went up. I thought I’d just get prayed for from afar.

But then came the challenge: “If you raised your hand, come forward.”

My heart was racing. My palms were sweaty. But I went.

I knelt down at the front pew, completely unsure of what to do. I didn’t know how to pray. I didn’t even have the words. And then—tap on my shoulder. A man with a big smile knelt next to me. He was the youth pastor. “Can I pray with you?” he asked. I nodded, a bit nervous. “I don’t know what to say,” I admitted.

He just smiled and said, “That’s okay. I’ll help.” And he led me through a simple, honest prayer.

That night, something changed in me. It wasn’t about religion. It wasn’t about tradition. It was about love. Real, overwhelming, unconditional love. A kind of love I didn’t earn—but was offered freely.

That’s what the Gospel means to me.

It’s the kindness of a youth pastor.
The warmth of a crowded church on a cold night.
The way music can stir something deep in your soul.
It’s hope when you feel lost.
It’s grace when you feel unsure.
It’s a fresh start when you didn’t know you needed one.

The Gospel isn’t just something I believe—it’s something I experienced. A love that found me, called me in, and changed everything.

And I’m still on that journey.

“The Gospel is not just good news—it’s the greatest invitation ever given, whispered straight to the heart.”

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What Does It Mean to “REST”?

Notes by Alex – by Alex Atkinson

“The Quiet Invitation to Rest”
Finding Soul-Deep Renewal in the Midst of Life’s Burdens

I woke up at 4:30 a.m. this morning with this thought on my heart: What does it really mean to “REST”?

The phrase “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” is a well-known verse from the Bible, specifically Matthew 11:28. It’s an invitation from Jesus to those who are feeling overwhelmed, burdened, or exhausted—offering them a kind of rest that goes beyond simply stopping and sleeping.

This verse is part of a larger passage where Jesus contrasts his gentle and humble approach with the heavy, often exhausting burdens of religious legalism of his time. He invites us to find solace, renewal, and true rest in him, suggesting that his teachings and way of life are far lighter and more freeing than the weight of expectations and struggles we often carry.

The phrase “weary and burdened” resonates deeply because it can speak to so many forms of suffering we face in life:

  • Physical toil: The exhaustion from endless work and effort.
  • Spiritual burdens: The guilt, anxiety, or shame that weighs heavy on the soul.
  • The burden of law and expectation: The crushing feeling of never measuring up to rules or standards.
  • Emotional exhaustion: The heaviness that comes from life’s constant challenges.

Jesus’s invitation is simple yet profound. It’s not only about finding physical rest but about experiencing a deeper, spiritual renewal—a rest for the soul. It’s an open invitation to anyone who feels the weight of life pressing down, reminding us that rest is not always about stopping—it’s about surrendering.

Moving to Tennessee, and now Alaska…
Small-town life has been healing to my heart. I’ve thought a lot about how stepping away from the busyness of city life, into the quiet rhythm of the country, has given me room to slow down, reflect, and let God work on the wounds I once carried. Alaska, with its wide-open spaces and wild beauty, has been a teacher of rest—reminding me that sometimes God calls us away so He can restore what was broken.

“Rest is not found in running from the storm but in trusting the One who calms it.”

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Ride Now, Ride Now: The Call to Courage


When darkness gathers, it’s not the time to retreat—it’s the time to rise.

“Arise, arise, Riders of Théoden!
Fell deeds awake, fire and slaughter!
Spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,
A sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!
Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!”
— J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King

There’s something in the human spirit that stirs when we hear a battle cry—not one born of violence, but of resolve. Tolkien’s words don’t just belong in the realm of fantasy. They live in us. They echo in our quiet moments of doubt, in the face of rising storms, in the still morning when the world hasn’t yet caught fire—but you know it’s coming.

We all face our own “sword-days.”
Moments where everything is on the line.
Where darkness tries to crowd in.
Where you feel the pull to sit it out, to stay hidden, to let someone else ride.

But we weren’t made for retreat.

We were made to rise.

Like the Riders of Rohan, sometimes we are called to charge—not because the odds are good, but because the cause is just. Not because it’s safe, but because someone must stand. Because honor, truth, and courage still matter. Because deep in our souls, there’s a warrior cry waiting to be released.

And here’s the thing: it’s not about war. It’s about courage.
It’s about how you face your battles—your setbacks, your disappointments, your losses, your doubts.

Maybe today your battlefield is a broken dream.
Maybe it’s a silent struggle no one else sees.
Maybe it’s leadership under pressure, or being a light in a weary family, a divided community, or a hurting world.

But no matter the shape of your battle, the call is the same: Arise.

Arise with love.
Arise with faith.
Arise with vision.
Arise not because you’re fearless, but because you’ve chosen to move forward anyway.

We may not ride horses to Gondor.
But we do ride into each new day—often with splintered shields and trembling hands.
And still we ride.

Because someone’s waiting on the other side of your courage.
Because your rising may awaken another.
Because light is stronger than darkness—and it travels fastest through the willing.

So whatever today holds, ride boldly into it.

Ride now. Ride now.

– Notes by Alex
A place for reflections, reminders, and the quiet roar of courage.

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In God’s World, Transitions Are Invitations

“Moving Beyond the Unknown into God’s Designed Destiny”
By Alex Atkinson Jr.

Transitions can feel like endings. Like we’re leaving behind a chapter we weren’t quite ready to close. Whether it’s a job change, a move, a relationship shift, or even just growing older—these moments can bring uncertainty. But in God’s world, transitions are never just about what’s ending. They’re invitations.

They invite us into purpose. Into maturity. Into greater impact.

I’ve seen this firsthand in my own journey—from growing up in the village of Metlakatla, to flying seaplanes across the wilderness of Southeast Alaska, to stepping into the world of private aviation and beyond. Each shift, whether welcome or not, pulled me into something deeper. Sometimes, I didn’t even realize it until I was on the other side.

But here’s what I’ve come to believe:

God doesn’t waste transitions.

He uses them to prepare us for what’s next.
He uses them to grow us up.
He uses them to position us for more influence—not just for our sake, but for the people we’re meant to serve, love, and lead.

And that means when things start shifting—when doors close or opportunities seem to dry up—it’s not the time to panic. It’s the time to pay attention.

Because maybe that closed door isn’t rejection.
Maybe it’s redirection.
Maybe it’s your invitation.

I’m learning to lean in more during these moments. To ask: What is God inviting me into here? What needs to grow in me? What old thing must fall away to make space for the new?

If you’re in a season of transition right now—take heart. You’re not lost. You’re being led.

And in God’s world, where every detail carries purpose, even the waiting, the stretching, and the unknown are part of the story. His story. Your story.

So today, I leave you with this:

Transitions aren’t just detours.
They’re divine invitations.
Into more. Into deeper.
Into Him.

Excerpt for social media:
“In God’s world, transitions aren’t detours—they’re divine invitations into deeper purpose, greater impact, and stronger faith.” – Alex Atkinson Jr.

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Unity in the Village: Why Love Still Matters in Small Town Life

“Choosing Unity Over Division in the Place We All Call Home”
By Alex Atkinson Jr.

I’ve lived in a small town most of my life. Metlakatla, Alaska, is home—and like many small towns across the country, we carry both the beauty and the burden of close-knit living. We know one another. We share history, hardship, and hope. But like any community, we also face our fair share of challenges.

Not all small towns are the same, of course—but many of us experience familiar themes. Tensions rise, misunderstandings brew, and sometimes, unfortunately, divisions set in. And to be honest, that’s the part of small-town life I find hardest to watch.

“We don’t have to believe the same to love the same.”

Division can come from anywhere—a disagreement, a difference in how we do things, or a clash of beliefs. Maybe we see the world through different lenses. Maybe our upbringings or faith journeys aren’t identical. But in the end, none of that should keep us from being united.

I’m not here to say we all have to agree on everything. That’s not unity—that’s uniformity. What I long to see is something deeper: honor and respect. Even when we do things differently. Even when we believe differently. A place where you can be you, and I can be me—and we still choose to love each other anyway.

No jealousy. No hidden agendas. Just a genuine attitude of care and kinship.

That’s what family is. That’s what community should be. Not perfect. Not always peaceful. But deeply rooted in love—the kind that ties us together in the storms, not just the celebrations.

In a time when the world feels more divided than ever, maybe our little town can stand out—not for how we argue, but for how we stay connected through it all. Love still matters here. And maybe if we choose it, again and again, we’ll help write a better story for the next generation watching us.

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“When Nature Speaks, What Is Heaven Saying?”

🌍 Notes from Alex: When the Earth Groans — Is Something Being Born?

Lately, I’ve found myself paying closer attention — not just to headlines, but to the earth itself.

The rain falls heavier. The floods come faster. The fires burn hotter. Earthquakes, storms, strange weather patterns. It’s easy to dismiss them as just part of the natural order — but more and more, people are sensing something deeper. Almost spiritual. As if the earth isn’t just reacting to nature… but to the heavens.

Many believe that what we’re seeing in the physical world mirrors what’s happening in the spiritual realm. That there’s activity in the heavens — a shift, a stirring, a divine movement — and the earth is responding. Contracting. Shaking. Groaning. Almost like something is about to be born.

The Bible speaks of this in Romans 8:22 — “We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.” That verse hits differently these days. Because when I look around, it really does feel like the world is in labor. Not dying — but birthing.

So the question becomes: What is being born?

Is it judgment? Is it revival?
A new era? A course correction?
Or is it something even more personal — a transformation within us, preparing us to carry something sacred into a broken world?

I don’t have all the answers. But I know this: when something is about to be born, the pain intensifies. The pressure increases. But it’s not in vain — it’s with purpose. It’s because something is coming. Something bigger than us.

So maybe, instead of fearing the shaking, we should ask what it’s trying to wake up in us.

Maybe this isn’t the end.
Maybe it’s just the beginning.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to prepare ourselves — not just for what’s happening, but for what’s emerging.

Because something is.

And it’s going to change everything.

— Alex

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