On January 12, 2010, a massive earthquake with a magnitude of 7.0 struck the impoverished island nation of Haiti. At least 52 aftershocks were subsequently recorded. Originating near the town of Léogâne, just 16 miles southwest of the capital city, Port-au-Prince, the quake affected the most densely populated region of the country. Some three million people were affected by the quake, which left tens of thousands of buildings in ruins and an estimated 160,000 people dead. Thankfully, many governments, churches, and other organizations rallied to supply aid to Haiti. The following year, I was dispatched as a representative of my denomination to assess the relief and rebuilding efforts.
Though the quake damage was still very much in evidence, I was heartened to find winsome, energetic people in Haiti who were eagerly rebuilding their country and their lives. I met with leader after leader who embodied the seven critical choices that produce a positive outlook. They were hopeful, humble, and very generous people who’d clearly chosen to joyfully persevere through horrific tragedy. As I boarded the flight that would take me from Port-au-Prince to Orlando, I reflected on the positive outlook and energetic spirit of the Haitian people. It happened to be a Monday, and as I glanced at my watch, I remembered Dad’s uplifting words and positive attitude after losing our home to fire. I knew Dad would have had a lot in common with the Haitian leaders I’d met. I could almost hear him saying, “Just believe, Stan. Everything will work out for the best.”
A couple of hours later we’d touched down in Orlando, and I was making my way to the hotel when my cell phone rang. My friend Dan Cook called me to update me on some news regarding a mutual friend named Steve, who’d been battling cancer. Steve had taken a turn for the worse and been admitted to the hospital. He wasn’t expected to live through the weekend. “I know you’ve been friends for a long time,” Dan said. “I just wanted you to know.”
I thanked Dan and immediately called Steve’s cell phone. No one answered, which didn’t surprise me, so I left a message of love and appreciation for my dear friend and quoted words of Jesus that I thought would be a special encouragement: “Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me. There is more than enough room in my Father’s home. If this were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am.”1 I closed the call my saying that I would be praying for him.
A gentle rain had started to fall, so I picked up my pace as I walked toward the hotel. My phone rang again, and to my surprise it was Steve calling me back. I asked how he was doing and he said, “They tell me that I may not live another 24 hours, but I’m at peace.” He continued by saying his family was with him as well as his pastor. “I’ve had a great life,” he told me, “and I’m ready for heaven.”
We chatted for a few more moments and Steve told me how much he appreciated my friendship over the years, and I expressed my appreciation for him and his friendship as well as my great admiration for his strong and confident faith. Then Steve said, “Well Stan, time to say goodbye. But before I go, is there anyone you would like for me to say hello to in heaven?”
Steve’s question stopped me in my tracks. I glanced again at the battered old Timex on my wrist. It was nearly six p.m., the time Dad usually got home from the mine, his tired face streaked with coal dust. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I managed to choke out a reply to my dear friend, “If you happen to meet William Aaron Toler when you step inside heaven’s gates, would you say hello for me and tell him that all three of his sons are doing well, we’re all ministers, and all grateful for the gifts he gave us.”
“I’ll tell him,” Steve replied. Less than 24 hours later, Steve passed away, and I have no doubt he delivered the message.
I stood for several minutes in that rainy parking lot, unable to leave, wiping tears from my eyes. I felt a tinge of sadness as I remembered Dad’s untimely death, but my tears flowed from my gratitude at having a wonderful father who’d given me so much in such a short time. “Just believe, Stan. Everything will work out for the best.” I’ve lived by those words and found them to be true every time.
In the many years since Dad passed away, I’ve had the privilege of speaking to audiences on six continents, authoring over one hundred books, raising two fine sons, and enjoying a standard of living that my dad couldn’t have dreamed of. I’ve had my share of setbacks, but I never dwell on them. The future is always brighter and more powerful than the past.
You may be struggling to make positive changes in your life right now. Perhaps you’ve faced a tragic experience, or even a series of them. You wonder how life could possibly be good, let alone get better. Believe me, I understand. And I want to encourage you.
The greatest gift you can give yourself is the gift my father gave me: a positive attitude. Choose to believe in the future. Choose to think positive thoughts, make positive choices, and form strong, life-affirming habits. No one can control what happens to them, but we each have the power to choose our response in any situation. You have the power to decide, so make the choices that will forever shape your life for good.
Believe it will all work out—choose hope.
Don’t take yourself too seriously—choose humility.
Count your blessings—choose gratitude.
Give more than you take—choose generosity.
Be kind to everyone you meet—choose compassion.
Celebrate life—choose joy.
Keep going no matter what—choose perseverance.
You can do this! I know you can, and I believe in you. The words my dad gave to me, I now pass on to you: Just believe. Everything will work out for the best. Keep going, and you’ll see for yourself. All things really are possible for those who believe.