"Why Me, Lord?"

Why Me, Lord?

A True Story of Faith, Obedience, and Grace in the Darkest Hours 

Part One - THE CALL

The phone rang at 1:30 a.m.—a call from Herrin ICU. A man wasn’t expected to live through the night, and his family was asking for “the guy in the cowboy hat” to come and pray.

I got dressed quickly. Looking over at my wife, Anne, I said, “Why would they call me? With all the real preachers in Williamson County, why me? I’m just a country boy—not that bright, no major degrees, not that polish in my prayers and speech. There are plenty more qualified to pray than I am.”

Still, I went. Driving to the hospital in the dark, I kept whispering under my breath, “Why me, Lord?”

When I arrived, a man about my age lay on his deathbed, his wife standing beside him, weary and afraid. I prayed with her, prayed over him, and as the sun began to rise, I headed home—another long night as a first responder chaplain.

I never saw them again after that morning. I had done what I was called to do—go, comfort, pray, and leave the rest in God’s hands. Looking back, I realize I didn’t need to follow up. It wasn’t my job to make God’s work succeed. My calling was simply to show up.

Part Two — The Call Back

Three months later, the phone rang again. “Are you the man in the cowboy hat who came to Herrin ICU that night?” the voice asked.
I said I was.

The caller paused, then said, “That was my dad. The doctors said he wouldn’t make it through the night—but he did. In fact, he’s doing well now. We just wanted to thank you for coming. We know God sent you.”

I sat there, speechless. I hadn’t done anything but show up, pray, and trust God to handle the rest. Yet here was the proof that what I thought was a small act of obedience had been part of a much bigger miracle.

“And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.” — Galatians 6:9 (ESV)

Part Three — The Second Night

About a year later—almost to the day, almost to the hour—my phone rang again around 2:00 a.m. Another call from Herrin ICU.

“Chaplain, there’s a family here asking for the man in the cowboy hat. Please come as quickly as you can.”

I jumped out of bed, sore from a long day on a manhunt for a drug dealer. Anne handed me pain medication as I dressed and grabbed my white cowboy hat. Through tired eyes, I asked her again, “Why me?” Tears welled up as I muttered, “There’s got to be somebody better than me to take these calls.”

Still, I went. The streets were empty as I drove through the night in my modified squad car, heart heavy. When I reached the hospital, the ICU doors slid open—and a woman came running toward me, arms wide, tears flowing.

“Thank you,” she cried. “Thank you so much for coming.”

I didn’t recognize her at first. Then I saw her husband standing beside her—the same man who wasn’t supposed to make it through the night a year ago.

Part Four — The Son

The next words out of the woman’s mouth stopped me cold.

“You prayed for my husband last year,” she said softly. “He wasn’t supposed to make it through the night—but he did. He’s fully recovered now, feeling better than he has in years.”

Hearing these words, inside, my heart leapt for joy. I was praising God silently, careful not to disturb the ICU.

But then came her next words. “You prayed for my husband… now we need you to pray for our son. He’s in a coma.”

Just like that, my heart dropped. Tears welled up as I cryed inwardly, “Why me, Lord?”

I steadied myself, my knees shaking as I walked toward that hospital room, praying silently.

“God, I know You walk with me. I know You go before me and prepare the way. You wouldn’t send me if You hadn’t already made a way.”

No one around me knew the battle raging inside—how fear wrestled with faith, how doubt bowed before obedience. But God knew. And in that quiet moment between my weakness and His strength, I felt Him whisper again, “This is why I send you, My son.”

“The Lord is near to all who call on Him, to all who call on Him in truth.” — Psalm 145:18 (ESV)

Part Five — The Miracle

I entered the room. The young man—late twenties—lay motionless, tied to tubes and machines keeping him alive.

 “Here I am, Lord. I need You," I cried.

Taking a deep breath, I began to pray with his mother, father, and young wife. As I prayed, the Holy Spirit nudged me to reach out and touch his knee.

The moment I did, he suddenly came out of the coma—gasping for air, grabbing my arm like a man pulled from deep water.

A surge of power rushed through me, from my body into his. I could barely stand. In an instant, that ICU turned from a place of mourning into a place of praise. Nurses rushed in, voices lifted, tears flowed.

As for me, I slipped out quietly, too moved to speak. I don’t even remember hugging the mother or shaking the father’s hand. I just made my way to the car.

Driving home as the sun rose behind me, tears streamed down my face. My body was spent, but my spirit was alive—crying and praising God all the way home.

That morning, I stopped asking “Why me, Lord?” and started asking “What now, Lord?” Because when God calls, He already has a purpose—one we may not see until long after the prayer is prayed and the sun comes up.

Part six - The Lesson

I don’t remember much after that morning—just sitting in the driveway as the sun climbed higher, realizing I’d just witnessed something holy.
God didn’t need me that night. He allowed me to be there—to see, to feel, to know that He still moves in ways beyond our understanding.

I used to ask, “Why me, Lord?” every time the phone rang in the dark hours. I don’t ask that anymore. Now, I simply say, “Thank You, Lord, for trusting me to go.”

It’s not about eloquent prayers or polished sermons. It’s not about being the most qualified or the most confident. It’s about being available—especially when you’re tired, unsure, or feeling small.
That’s where God shows His strength. That’s where miracles happen.
Every call since then, every visit, every prayer, I carry that same truth in my heart: the power isn’t in the man wearing the cowboy hat. It’s in the God who answers when we call His name.

“Not that we are sufficient in ourselves to claim anything as coming from us, but our sufficiency is from God.” — 2 Corinthians 3:5 (ESV)

Afterword

We all face moments when God’s call finds us tired, uncertain, or feeling unworthy. But His power doesn’t wait for perfection — it moves through obedience. Each time we say yes, even when we don’t understand, heaven draws a little nearer to earth.

So if you ever find yourself whispering, “Why me, Lord?” remember — the answer isn’t about who you are. It’s about Who sent you.

Walk in faith, rest in grace, and trust the One who walks beside you.

In His love and grace,

ray mileur

"Helping believers walk closer with Jesus, one day at a time"
raymileurministries.com