There is something so fulfilling about living in your calling and walking in your God-given purpose. For years, my husband Paul and I had the privilege of serving in Colorado, where our ministries were flourishing. Paul was the pastor of Littleton Seventh-day Adventist Church, and I was in my ninth year as principal at Mile High Academy. Life was full of joy, meaningful work, and deep relationships. We felt completely aligned with God’s plan.
But everything changed in November 2018.
Paul had been dealing with health challenges that we assumed could be handled with medical attention and some lifestyle changes. After months of hospital visits and checkups, we went in for what we thought would be a short stay—just the weekend. Instead, we were hit with a life-altering diagnosis: stage five kidney failure.
In a matter of weeks, we packed up and temporarily relocated to La Sierra, California, to be near Paul’s parents and siblings. That “temporary” move quickly became permanent as Paul’s condition didn’t improve. By January 2020, medical visits and procedures had become our new normal.
Then came the procedure that changed everything.
It was supposed to be simple—placing a fistula for dialysis. We even had Sabbath dinner plans with Paul’s uncle afterward. But when his name didn’t move from the operating screen after two hours, I knew something was wrong. Five hours later, the surgeon finally came out. He called my name and led me into a quiet room.
“He’s on life support,” he said. “And we don’t know if he’s going to make it.”
I stepped out, and asked our family and friends to pray. I posted a simple message on Facebook: “Wherever you are, please pray for Pastor Paul.” That post would travel around the world within hours. People from all over began to pray. Churches held vigils. Hundreds came to the hospital, filling hallways and parking lots with prayer and song.
Eventually, the doctors removed him from life support. He could breathe on his own, but he was still unresponsive. Each night, I sat by his bed reading scripture and singing worship songs. On the fourth night, I sang one of his favorite songs, “He Knows My Name.” As I whispered the words, “He hears me when I call,” I prayed silently, “Jesus, please help Paul.”
Then, in his unconscious state, Paul spoke. In Tongan, he said, “Eiki Sihova, tokoni mai”
(“Lord, my Savior, please help me”).
He would wake up the next day. And while full healing hasn’t come, we live every day with gratitude and dependence on God. Life has not gone back to “normal,” but we’re learning to thrive in a new normal—anchored in faith.
I share this not because the journey has been easy, but because I want you to know: God knows your name. He hears you when you call. Even in the valley. Even when everything shifts. His presence is real. His power is unmatched. And His love never fails.
So if you’re in a season of waiting or uncertainty—keep going. Keep praying. You’re not alone.
Toakase Vunileva currently serves as the Director of Seventh-day Adventist Initiatives for the Bainum Family Foundation and leads our La Sierra University Church Tongan Sabbath School. She loves being “mom” to Tane and Ota, and “aunty” to Vatau, Faoliu, Marcus, and Ray.