From Interruption to Invitation: How my stroke taught me to trust Jesus more than ever

There are moments in life that divide everything into a "before" and an "after." For me, one of those moments was my stroke. It changed far more than my physical abilities. It altered the way I thought, the way I communicated, the way I prayed, and ultimately the way I related to Jesus Christ.

Before the stroke, much of my ministry life had been built upon abilities I often took for granted. I could sit down and write a sermon in twenty minutes. I could answer theological questions quickly and confidently. Words came easily, and ideas seemed to flow naturally. Looking back, I realize that while I loved the Lord and genuinely desired to serve Him faithfully, I had become comfortable relying on strengths that I assumed would always be there.

Then the stroke changed everything.

Suddenly, I discovered limitations in my ability to think, process, and write. Tasks that had once seemed effortless became difficult and exhausting. I could no longer depend upon my mind the way I once had. The confidence I had placed in my own abilities was shaken to its foundation.

What surprised me most was that I found I could only write after spending significant time listening to God. Before the stroke, writing was often a matter of skill and experience. After the stroke, it became an act of dependence. I could no longer simply sit down and produce something worthwhile through my own effort. I had to pray. I had to wait. I had to listen.

In many ways, that was the beginning of God's deeper work in my life.

At the same time, I was facing another battle. Having already lost my right eye, I spent nearly a year living with uncertainty about the vision in my remaining eye. I genuinely believed there was a possibility that I would lose my sight completely. The fear was overwhelming.

As the fear grew, so did my anger.

After everything I had experienced in life and ministry, I struggled to understand why God would allow so much loss and uncertainty. My prayers became filled with frustration rather than faith. I questioned His purposes. I wrestled with His silence. I became impatient with God in ways I had never experienced before.

What I did not realize during that season was how much my personality was changing. My anger was not confined to my relationship with God. It was spilling over into every area of my life. My wife saw it. My children saw it. The people I loved most were experiencing the effects of a heart that was becoming increasingly bitter and impatient.

One of the hardest things a father can hear is, "Dad, you're just not yourself."

Those words pierced me because they were true.

The anger and frustration I had allowed to grow inside me were damaging relationships that meant far more than any ministry success ever could. Yet even then, God was working.

The stroke forced me to slow down. It took away my ability to rush through life. It stripped away my confidence in quick answers and polished responses. It required me to stop, think, pray, and listen.

For perhaps the first time in many years, I found myself seeking God's presence not because I needed a sermon, an answer, or a blessing, but simply because I needed Him.

That changed everything.

My prayer life began to transform. Instead of immediately bringing requests before the Lord, I found myself wanting first to sit quietly in His presence. I wanted fellowship before answers. I wanted communion before solutions.

And what I discovered there was something I had gradually surrendered over the years of ministry.

I rediscovered fellowship with the Creator of the universe.

Somewhere along the way, the demands of ministry had crowded out the simple joy of being with Jesus. I was serving Him, preaching about Him, and teaching others about Him, but I had lost some of the wonder of simply abiding in Him.

Yet the journey was not over.

Also, because of my stroke and this struggle, I found myself in one of the darkest seasons of my life. I had grown weary of fighting. The daily struggles, the limitations, and the constant challenges had taken their toll. There were moments when I questioned why I was still here at all. I became increasingly focused on my pain, my losses, and my exhaustion. At times, I came dangerously close to simply wanting everything to end.

Looking back now, I can see how distorted my thinking had become.

I was so focused on my own suffering that I failed to recognize what those thoughts communicated to the people who loved me most. My wife, my children, and my family were not burdens in my life; they were gifts from God. Yet my despair had narrowed my vision until I could see little beyond my own pain.

But God, in His mercy, refused to leave me there.

The Lord began placing the right people into my life at exactly the right time. Friends, family members, and fellow believers lovingly but firmly spoke truth into my darkness. They challenged my thinking. They reminded me that my worth was not defined by what I could do, what I had lost, or how I felt. They reminded me that God still had a purpose for my life.

Through their prayers, encouragement, and faithfulness, God slowly pulled me out of that pit of despair. As my eyes turned back toward Christ, my thinking became clearer. Hope began to return. Instead of asking why I should remain here, I began to understand why God had left me here.

In His presence, I came to realize that God was not merely restoring my ability to write or think. He was restoring my heart.

He was teaching me that His power is not dependent upon my strength.

He was reminding me that His kingdom is not advanced through my cleverness.

He was showing me that intimacy with Him matters far more than productivity for Him.

Today, I find myself on a very different path of ministry. It is no longer driven by ambition, recognition, or the desire to be accepted by others. What matters most now is hearing the voice of Jesus and being faithful to His calling.

More than anything, I want to hear Him say, "Well done, good and faithful servant."

That desire has reshaped my priorities. Before I am a preacher, teacher, or minister, I want to be faithful as a husband, father, and grandfather. I want my family to know they are loved. I want my greatest ministry to begin at home.

More than any degree, training, experience, or accomplishment, I want my life to reflect the presence of Christ. I want my children and grandchildren to turn to me not because of what I know, but because they see Jesus at work in me.

The stroke was one of the hardest experiences of my life. It exposed weaknesses I never wanted to face. It revealed anger I did not know was growing within me. It stripped away self-reliance and forced me into dependence upon God.

But in doing so, it brought me closer to Jesus than I had ever been before.

What I once considered a devastating interruption became an invitation—an invitation to trust Him more deeply, listen more carefully, love my family more intentionally, and walk more faithfully in His will.

And for that, even through the pain, I can honestly say that God has been good.

If you or someone you know is struggling with purpose or direction, please send me their first name, so I can pray for them-  as so many have prayed for me.  Send info to shanestanford@youmatterministry.net

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