The honeymoon wasn’t grand.
It was a quiet seaside retreat just a few hours away, tucked in a coastal village with no cell signal, no work calls, and no distractions — just Edwin and Grace, side by side, finally breathing in the peace they had prayed for so long.
Their first morning as husband and wife felt… ordinary. And in the best way.
No fireworks. No dramatic revelations.
Just grace upon grace.
They laughed as they tried cooking breakfast together in their tiny Airbnb kitchen, burning toast and scrambling eggs that tasted more like rubber than food. They walked barefoot on the beach, collecting shells, praying aloud over each other, and writing dreams in a shared journal.
One morning, Grace turned to Edwin as they sat sipping coffee by the sea.
“What if this is what ministry really looks like?” she said. “Not big stages. Not titles. Just… faithfulness in the little things.”
Edwin nodded. “Jesus built the kingdom around tables and conversations. I think we’re right where we need to be.”
When they returned home, life came fast.
Edwin resumed his cybersecurity work — now remotely supporting teams across North America and Asia. His schedule was full, but his peace remained unshaken.
Grace, on the other hand, began transitioning out of her hospital administration role. With prayer and counsel, she felt called to serve full-time in community health outreach — combining her medical expertise with her heart for discipleship.
It was a bold move. A leap of faith.
But that’s what their marriage had been built on from the start.
Together, they began volunteering at a local church, co-leading a couples’ Bible study and mentoring young professionals. Their story became a testimony — not just of romance, but of waiting well.
Some of the couples they guided were on the verge of giving up.
“God takes too long,” one young man said.
Edwin looked him in the eye and replied gently,
“He’s never late. But He loves you too much to let you settle for what’s easy.”
One Sunday afternoon, Grace sat on the floor of their apartment, surrounded by planning notes. She looked up at Edwin and smiled.
“Remember when we said we wanted a home that would be used for ministry?”
He nodded.
“Well,” she grinned, “what do you think about starting a small home church? Nothing big. Just once a month. Invite people who are struggling with faith or healing from church hurt.”
Edwin smiled wide. “I think that’s exactly the kind of seed God wants us to plant.”
So they did.
It began with just five people: a single mom, two newlyweds, and a young man recovering from addiction.
They met in the living room. Worshipped with just a guitar. Shared Scripture. Prayed with tears and laughter. Ate homemade meals and stayed up late talking about real struggles, real fears, and real hope.
What started as a gathering soon became a movement — not because it grew fast, but because it went deep.
People were being healed.
Hearts were softening.
Marriages were reconciling.
God was moving.
In the quiet of one evening, after everyone had gone home, Grace leaned on Edwin’s shoulder.
“I still remember when we used to pray separately… you in Toronto, me in California. Now, we’re hosting prayer meetings in our home.”
Edwin kissed the top of her head.
“And this is just the beginning.”
One night, Edwin opened his Bible and paused at Isaiah 61 — the passage that had become a lifeline during his darkest years:
“They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor.”
He read it aloud to Grace.
“That’s who we are now,” he said.
“Not because we’re strong, but because we’re planted.”
She smiled. “Rooted. And ready.”
Marriage didn’t complete them —
God did.
But now, as one, they were a force of peace, healing, and light
in a world hungry for something real.
The boy who was once overlooked…
The girl who once cried alone…
Were now building a house of purpose.
Not with bricks, but with faith.
