When I was two years old, my dad murdered my mom in front of me and threw me down the stairs. I barely survived and I lost my hearing. After years of different foster homes, I thank God for letting me "hear" about His love for me and His purpose for my life. In Christ, I'm not only a survivor; I'm a warrior for His truth!
I'm deaf, but I hear Jesus loving me all the time. It all started when I imagined hearing the sound of the nails being driven into Christ's hands when He was crucified on the cross. In my mind I could hear the sound of the explosion when He rose from the dead and jumped out of that tomb on the first Easter!
The sounds of God's Story were explained to me by a staff person who works at the school for the deaf I attend. She shared her story of Christ coming into her life, and I had to ask Jesus into My Story!
Since most of my friends can't hear, I listen to Their Stories by watching their hands talk. I sign My Story and God's Story to them. God hears what's going on, and He's working!