
Psalm 34:6 This poor man cried, and the LORD heard him and saved him out of all his troubles.
As many who follow may know, I have had the privilege to know the Lord for over 40 years. During those decades, He has proved Himself to be a faithful, kind and loving Savior. And as I have learned to lean on Jesus, He has shown Himself to be a merciful Savior, never wavering, even in some very dark times.
This topical series will try to provide a snapshot of an ol’ fools prayers, the weakness and selfishness of his prayers, and the ever increasing goodness of God in His responses the those prayers.
I hope my witness to the goodness and faithfulness of God will be an encouragement to those reading, and will spur us all on to a deeper, more consistent time of being in the Lord’s presence.
Please visit with me as I tell the story of a faithful God and His care for an ol’ fool. Though David considered himself a poor man, I freely admit, I am just an “ol’ fool” looking to the Lord.
87
I’m a numbers guy. Numbers are a big part of my life. As an engineer, numbers help me make decisions that will benefit others. My favorite number is 73. A surprising number with many properties make it stand out amongst it’s kin. Properties that I will not bore you with.
When it comes to answered prayer, 87 became my favorite number decades ago. This post will try to tell the story of how God impressed my wife and I with 87.
My sweetiepie and I had just moved into the United States. We were seeking to serve the Lord on a mission field, and the two year training period in Michigan forced us to live by faith. As Canadians, we could not legally work in the US, and the purpose of the training was to prepare us for difficult missionary work. Prior to leaving Canada, we were blessed to have one couple offer assistance in our training. Other than that support, we were fully dependent on the Lord for tuition, rent, food, and travel needs.
Oh, and a key player in this prayer is our firstborn son. He was born in early December, and we were in Michigan for the first of January.
The initial “honeymoon” phase of moving in and beginning the training was wonderful. We met many wonderful saints. One couple took us under their wings in so many ways. I don’t know if we ever thanked Dave and Marsha properly. (If you stumble on this post, let it be known we are thankful, even these decades later, for your love and care.)
As we settled into the training, both my wife and I determined not to speak of our needs to any one, but to the Lord only.

Matthew 6:6 But when you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.
Even in our early walk with the Lord, we had seen saints who spoke of their need at every opportunity. It seemed they were trusting their skill at manipulating the emotional strings of others and not in the Lord. That surely was unfair, but we wanted to avoid that appearance.
Some suppers were popcorn, or spaghetti. One lunch was a watermelon. All the students had access to the Mission barrel and we sometimes found food stuffs there. One common source of sustenance was canned LaChoy. It showed up often, and when available, we consumed LaChoy. Funny how we haven’t purchased any since!
Now, as I mentioned, we had a small one, and my wife was breastfeeding this young one. As we entered a somewhat “restricted diet”, it became apparent to my wifey that Joshua was needing some supplementation. He was a voracious consumer, and his momma realized this problem early on.
One night, as she fed our son, she quietly reached out to the Father and asked for some additional milk for Josh. What she exactly prayed, only her and the Father know. But the next morning, after classes was finished, she retrieved Josh from the nursery as I went down to the mailbox.
The mail box was where we received support, and it had been a while since any “blessing” had been received. As I pulled a lone envelope from our box, it seemed somewhat clunky, and when I got back to the apartment, opened it up and found 87 cents. Paula’s eyes brightened, and asked if I could go to the commissary to buy a little carton of milk for Josh.
Now I ask my reader. How much do you think milk cost in 1983? At this particular store, at this particular time, for this particular need, the milk I was able to purchase cost us 87 cents. No one knew of our need and provided funds. No one knew of our need and adjusted the price at the commissary to fit the funds we received. No one knew of the amount of money we needed for that particular need.
Except for One. He knew, and He provided. Let that sink in!
It was a few days later that I was chatting with the financial office of the school, and I asked him about the 87 cents. It turns out that a previous gift we had received in Canadian funds had been exchanged at an improper rate. 87 cents was the result.
Our God is good, even to the answering of a young mother’s quiet prayer in the middle of the night for her child.
Thanks for joining and Considering The Bible with me. Your thoughts are always welcome, and I look forward to hearing of the faithfulness of God in your lives.




