4:34 AM, The Area Code of Grief, and the Day of Hate

For three days in a row, my eyes have opened in the 4:00 AM hour.

This morning, I looked at my phone, and the clock read exactly 4:34 AM. I am trying to follow the Lord, be faithful with my first fruits, and trust His timing, but I find myself lying there wondering why He is interrupting my sleep like this.

Then it hit me: 434 is the area code for Lynchburg, Virginia.

I was being woken up at 4:34 AM down here in Florida, hundreds of miles away from Virginia. My mind immediately went to the agonizing "what ifs." I often wonder if these numbers were a warning sign—a divine nudge to call my son, to warn him. But how could I have possibly known?

I think about parents who have lost their children to car accidents or fentanyl poisoning. I am absolutely not comparing grief or saying my pain is heavier than theirs, but I do wonder if they find some small sliver of coping in the fact that they warned their kids. "I told him not to text and drive. I told him to stay away from those drugs."

I worked so hard to prepare my son for everything in life. My primary goal was for him to be self-sufficient. But looking back, I realize that self-sufficiency wasn't the most important goal. Having him fear and love the Lord was. Thankfully, through the grace of God—and often in direct contrast to my own past feral actions—my son turned his eyes firmly upon the Lord.

But I still wonder if I could have warned him. "Hey, when there's a stranger in your driveway holding a two-year-old, be careful, son. He has a gun, and he will shoot you." How do you even prepare a child for that? Cash was incredibly observant; he noticed when people in the grocery store were carrying concealed weapons. We will never truly know what happened that day. As far as I am concerned, it was pure demon possession.

When I wake up in these early hours, I usually try to go back to sleep for a bit. As I lay there this morning, listening to Mercy Culture Worship's Encounter, the Holy Spirit began to impress the vision for my book, The Burning Bush, onto my mind. He gave me the exact starting point.

Chapter One begins on a beautiful spring morning. I call it the "Day of Hate."

I was driving my family to church, but my mind was completely consumed by a woman named Judy Luce. She had caused me all kinds of problems, writing and circulating slanderous letters about me. I had originally asked her to help me with my magazine, but the truth is, I didn't need her. The magazine was already 80 pages thick and turning a profit. My extreme, over-the-top need to welcome and include everyone became my own detriment.

As I drove to church that morning, the bitterness was so toxic that I was literally sitting in the driver's seat thinking about how I might burn her house down. The hatred was that dark. I was plotting murder in my mind.

Suddenly, Shannon spoke up from the passenger seat. "Micah, listen to your daughter. She's talking to you."

The conviction hit me like a physical blow. I felt utterly awful. Here I was, driving my family to church on a beautiful Sunday morning, ignoring my daughter in the backseat while actively planning to destroy another child of God in my head.

That Sunday, the preacher stood at the pulpit and told the congregation to make a list of everyone we held hate and bitterness toward in our hearts. Judy was at the very top of my list, but by the time the service was over, my list was as long as a letter to Santa Claus. My defensive, easily offended spirit had tallied up every slight. Back then, my mentality was rigid: you were either 100% for Micah, or you were against me.

I took that list, offered it as a "burn list," and destroyed it in a bowl of ash. I made a commitment right there to forgive them, reach out, and pray for them—even though most of the people on that list had no idea they had even offended me. I have repeated this exercise at least once a year ever since.

I see now that the Holy Spirit was actively clearing out my heart. He had to force me to burn that list of offenses because the very next Sunday, that same preacher cast a massive vision for a school at Smith Mountain Lake. My heart had to be empty of hate to make room for that vision.

Today's SOAP

S - Scripture

Isaiah 8:12-13 (NIV): "Do not call conspiracy everything this people calls a conspiracy; do not fear what they fear, and do not dread it. The Lord Almighty is the one you are to regard as holy, he is the one you are to fear, he is the one you are to dread."

Deuteronomy 6:5 (NIV): "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength."

O - Observation

In Isaiah, God commands His people not to get swept up in the fears, conspiracies, and anxieties of the world around them. The world fears the uncontrollable and obsesses over the actions of the wicked. Instead, we are commanded to transfer all of our reverence, awe, and "fear" onto the Lord Almighty alone. Deuteronomy provides the blueprint for how to live this out: a heart, soul, and strength completely consumed by the love of God, leaving no room for toxic hate or crippling anxiety.

A - Application

The 4:34 AM wake-ups and the agonizing "what ifs" about Cash's final moments are a heavy burden, but Isaiah 8 reminds me that I cannot fear what the world fears. I cannot control the demonic evil that arrived in that driveway, nor could I have predicted it. My only true responsibility was to ensure my son feared the Lord—and he did. Furthermore, the "Day of Hate" reminds me that harboring bitterness and plotting against enemies—like the people who slandered me—only distracts me from the voice of my own family and blocks God's vision. I must continually surrender my "burn lists" to the Lord so my heart is clear to love Him with all my strength.

P - Prayer

Heavenly Father, thank You for the quiet clarity of 4:34 AM. When my mind spirals into the agonizing "what ifs" and the grief feels too heavy, remind me that Your sovereignty is perfect. Thank You that Cash feared You and loved You. Lord, search my heart today. If there is any lingering bitterness, offense, or a "Santa Claus list" of grudges hiding in my spirit, expose it so I can burn it at the altar of Your grace. Keep my eyes off the evil of this world and fix my reverence entirely on You. In Jesus' name, Amen.