Where I Needed to Be

Where I Needed to Be

Sometimes the Miracle Is Just Being Still

By Joey Raines

Description:

A true story about faith, survival, and discovering purpose in an unexpected place. Sometimes, where we end up is where we were meant to be.

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Where I Needed to Be:

My wife and I lived a simple but tiring life. We stayed in our camper at the campground from April to October and at our house the rest of the year. Our routine was straightforward: work all day, watch some Netflix at night in our camper, then sleep and do it all over again.

One evening, as I walked to the bedroom where my wife was already lying down, God's first message came to me. I heard someone on television say, "Where you are going, you have to be to show the glory of God, sit still and know that God is God." At that moment, I felt a tightness in my chest that made me stop walking. It was that familiar scratchy feeling that signals a cold coming on - that initial discomfort that makes you think, "Oh no, I'm getting sick." I figured I just needed to keep warm. I didn't think much of the message then. I just thought I was getting sick and didn't have time for it.

For the next week, God kept speaking the same words to me. I heard them everywhere - on the radio in my car, on television, and sometimes directly in my mind when no one was speaking. The message was constant and unmistakable. Meanwhile, my health was getting worse. My wife and I both developed terrible coughs that nothing seemed to help.

After a week of hearing God's message multiple times daily, the situation reached a critical point. We were both in bed, coughing nonstop. I felt a heavy pressure in my chest, like someone was sitting on me. Each breath was a struggle, and a deep burning sensation spread through my lungs. I couldn't get comfortable no matter how I positioned myself.

That's when God gave me a clear vision. I saw myself lying on the bed, on my right side with my left leg moving to rest on top of my right leg. The image was crystal clear, like watching a movie of myself. In the vision, there was a loud bang every time my left leg moved and came to rest on top of my right leg - it was like a thunderclap that emphasized this specific movement and position. I could see my left leg lifting, moving across, and then settling onto my right leg quickly with each loud bang. The bang wasn't scary; it was attention-grabbing, purposeful. The vision kept repeating the same scene over and over, making sure I understood exactly what I needed to do. It wasn't subtle - God was deliberately showing me how to find relief in my suffering. The vision was trying to direct me with absolute clarity.

Before I could follow these instructions, God showed me more. I saw myself being lifted up a mountain. I was strapped to a platform as I was going up. I was on the inside, facing the mountain wall, but as I reached the top, I was pulled to the outside. I knew without a doubt I was about to be shot at by many people though I couldn't see them.

At that precise moment in my vision, I heard what sounded like a heavenly microphone turning on. Though I heard just the faintest sound - just an "uh" at the end of a word - I understood completely. I knew there were countless angels laughing and talking. I knew that God Himself had just spoken with a mixture of love and joy. It felt like being in a dining room filled with people enjoying each other's company. I knew without doubt that I was being given a glimpse of God's throne room.

Then I heard God's voice. It was clear and confident. After showing me the vision of going up the mountain and facing danger, He said, "But this won't happen to you." The weight of those words settled deep in my spirit. I knew without a doubt that the entire throne room of God fell silent and watched Him speak to me. And in that moment, I also knew that everyone in that room, every angel and every being in God’s presence, knew exactly who I was.

The view in my vision moved down from the top of the mountain, as if a camera were gliding through the air, and settled on me lying in bed. Once again, I saw my left leg move quickly over my right, followed by that same loud bang. Following God's guidance, I placed my left leg on top of my right, just as He had shown me, and immediately felt comfortable for the first time that night.

Then God spoke again, using the same words I had been hearing all week, but this time, there was a crucial difference. I heard them in His own voice. He said, “Where you are going, you have to be to show the glory of God. Sit still and know that I am God.”

Before, I had always heard it as “God is God.” But now, God was speaking directly to me. He wasn’t just confirming who He is—He was making it personal. He was saying, “I am God,” and I knew without question that He meant it for me.

Immediately after this divine encounter, my wife turned to me and said, “We need to go to the hospital.” We got dressed and made the 45-minute drive to the hospital near our home, even though we had never felt comfortable with their emergency room.

The emergency room was packed. We waited five hours, and no one was taken inside. Another couple grew frustrated, and when the husband loudly expressed his concerns, security and police were called. Even after he calmed down, the hospital staff still refused to help him. Seeing this, we decided to leave and drive about 25 additional minutes to the Cleveland Clinic Akron General Health & Wellness Center in Green, where our doctor practiced.

This was God's protection at work. When we arrived at the emergency room at Akron General Health & Wellness Center in Green, there was no wait at all. We were seen immediately and examined thoroughly. The doctors quickly realized that we were both seriously ill. They told us that we had the virus that had been spreading everywhere, but my condition had progressed into pneumonia.

My wife was stable enough to go home, but I needed to be admitted for more intensive care. At first, I tried to deny how sick I was. I kept saying I was fine. But when the nurse asked me to walk in place, I could barely take two steps before I had to stop. That’s when I finally admitted to myself that I couldn’t do this on my own.

Because Akron General in Green is an outpatient facility, it does not have inpatient rooms for hospital admissions. It’s designed for emergency care, doctors' offices, diagnostic testing, and wellness services, but not for overnight stays. So, they arranged for me to be transported by ambulance to the Cleveland Clinic’s main hospital on Euclid Avenue in downtown Cleveland, where a room was waiting for me.

I didn’t want to be admitted to the hospital. In my mind, I could tough it out. I kept telling myself, and the doctors, that I was fine. But the hospital staff saw what I couldn’t. They recognized the severity of my condition, and they continued urging me to stay. They weren’t trying to scare me. They were trying to save my life.

Still, I resisted. I didn’t want to be away from my wife. I didn’t want to feel helpless in a hospital bed. I didn’t want to break the routine that had become our way of life. We worked every day, then went back to the camper at night to rest.

We may not have liked that rhythm. It wasn’t easy, and it didn’t bring much joy. But it was what we were used to. It was our normal. It was all we were used to.

My wife felt the same way. We had talked about it before. Life was tough, but at least we were in it together. That routine gave us something to hold on to. Losing it felt like we were losing control.

She was sick too, just like me, but when I got admitted, she had to go home alone. That made everything harder. People kept calling her. Everyone wanted to know how I was doing. They kept asking questions, and she was the one who had to answer them all. She was more concerned about me than she was about herself.

Even though she was struggling, she still carried the weight of it all. And even in that moment, when we both felt like everything was falling apart, God was still guiding every step. He was leading me away from what was familiar and placing me exactly where I needed to be.

They transported me by ambulance to Cleveland. The distance from Akron General Health & Wellness Center in Green to the Cleveland Clinic Main Campus on Euclid Avenue is about 35 miles. It took around 45 to 50 minutes to get there. It felt like a long ride, not just because of the distance, but because I didn’t know what was going to happen next. I just knew I was Getting further from home.

When we arrived, they took me straight to my room. The nurses got to work right away. They settled me in, hooked me up to multiple IVs, there was more than one bag hanging beside me, and they started running all the necessary tests. Bloodwork, oxygen levels, and vitals. They were moving fast, like they knew what they were doing. I didn’t ask many questions. I was too weak. I just watched everything happen around me.

Once everything was in place, they turned the TV on for me. It was a small thing, but it felt like a comfort. In the middle of all the wires and machines, it was something normal. Something quiet. And I needed that.

Not long after I got settled in, one of the doctors came in and gave me the rundown. They told me I had COVID pneumonia. They explained what that meant and how serious it was. Then they told me something I wasn’t ready to hear.

They said I might not survive this.

They didn’t expect me to make it.

Those words sank deep. I was already sick, already weak, and now they were telling me I probably wouldn’t make it. And that’s what shook me. It disturbed me emotionally in a way I hadn’t expected.

Because there was something I had done years before. I had prayed. I had asked God to never let me die. I told Him I didn’t want to be buried in the ground. I didn’t want to be burned into ashes either. I had asked Him to let me rise like Enoch did. I wanted to go straight to heaven. I told Him I wanted to be used for something great.

That prayer had always stayed in the back of my mind. And now, here I was. Lying in a hospital bed with IVs in my arms, machines around me, and hospital staff telling me they didn’t expect me to survive.

Even though I had heard from God. Even though He had shown me things and spoken directly to me. Even though He had told me, “But this won’t happen to you.” I was still worried. I believed Him, but I was human. And in that moment, I had to fight fear with faith.

My daughter wasn’t talking to me. For reasons I don’t remember, she didn’t want anything to do with me. It hurt, but I had gotten used to the silence.

Lying in that hospital bed, hearing that I might not make it, I thought about her. I thought about my grandbabies. I couldn’t just sit there and say nothing. So I picked up my phone and sent her a message. I told her that I loved her. I asked her to tell my grandbabies that I love them, too.

I had hoped she would call me while I was in the hospital. I was waiting. But she never did.

I didn’t know if I’d live to hear her voice again or if I’d ever get to hold my grandkids. But I needed her to know how I felt, no matter what.

They gave me oxygen, and it started to help with my coughing. I could finally breathe a little easier. It didn’t stop everything, but it brought some relief.

After spending my first night in the hospital, I woke up the next morning feeling weak but alert enough to check on things at home. I picked up my phone and opened the security camera feed. That’s when I saw it.

Sometime during the night, while I was lying in that hospital bed, someone had walked up onto our porch and stolen my generator. It wasn’t just any generator. I had paid $1,000 for it. I had it tucked away, hidden under a few things, but that didn’t stop him. He dragged it out, wheeled it down the sidewalk, and disappeared. I watched it all unfold on the playback, and it hit me hard.

My wife was home at the time, still sick, just on the other side of the door. She had no idea any of it had happened. I called her right away and told her what I saw. She was shocked. Still not feeling well, she pulled herself together and called the police to report it. They showed up and took the report, but we never heard anything back after that.

I was upset. I was stuck in the hospital while my wife was at home, sick and alone. I couldn’t stand the thought of her being there by herself, especially knowing someone had just stolen from our porch and she didn’t even know it had happened until I told her. I felt helpless. It didn’t feel right.

I almost signed myself out. I was that close. I had made up my mind. I figured I would be better off going home and taking care of her myself. But once again, God stepped in.

Right as I was about to leave, I picked up the remote and started flipping through the TV channels, not really looking for anything. Then I came across my favorite pastor, Joel Osteen. And the very first words I heard were the same words God had been saying to me all along:

"Where you are going, you have to be to show the glory of God. Sit still and know that God is God."

In that moment, I knew. God was making His will crystal clear. He was telling me again, as plainly as ever, that I needed to stay right where I was. So I did.

I realized I was in the hospital for a reason, even if I didn’t understand all of it at the time. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t plan to be there. But God had made it clear. This was where I needed to be.

Later on, it started to make more sense. I saw that God had arranged everything, even the parts that didn’t seem important at first. My wife being sent home wasn’t just about her health. It was also about our home.

We have a cat who means the world to us. He’s not just a pet. He’s family. Had we both been hospitalized, there would have been no one to feed him, no one to take care of him. He would have been alone, confused, and hungry. We would have been in the hospital for a long time, and honestly, he probably would have died. But God saw that ahead of time.

He made sure my wife was home, even though she was sick too. She was able to care for him, and just as important, he was there to comfort her while I was away. God had taken care of even that.

After three days with no improvement, they transferred me to the ICU. I was discouraged.

A staff member came in and said they wanted to put me on a ventilator. I refused. I wasn’t ready to go through that. I couldn’t help but think about my sister, who had died on a ventilator years ago. That memory stayed with me, and it made everything feel worse.

My wife was on the phone during that conversation. She was home, still sick herself, and she was crying. I could hear the pain in her voice. She was scared. She hated that she couldn’t be there, and I hated that I couldn’t be with her.

It was a moment filled with fear, uncertainty, and pain. But deep inside, I still believed that God was in control. Even though I didn’t know what would happen next, I held on to what He had already told me.

The staff member continued to press me, wanting to put me on a ventilator right away. I kept refusing. I wasn’t ready to take that step. But my wife, even while she was sick and crying on the phone, came up with an idea. She said, “If you have to go on it, then you should go on it. But if you don’t need to, then I understand.”

That helped me. I agreed with her. I told the staff that if it became absolutely necessary, then I would allow it. But I didn’t want it unless there was no other choice.

The staff member accepted that answer. It seemed like we had reached an agreement. Still, deep down, I had a feeling they were going to put me on the ventilator no matter what.

The next day, they started preparing for it. My oxygen levels kept dropping whenever I removed the mask. It looked like the decision was already made.

But then something happened.

My levels stabilized.

Suddenly, they stayed up. The need for the ventilator was gone. Just like that, everything changed.

I knew it wasn’t luck. It wasn’t coincidence. It was God.

God had stepped in again.

Throughout my time in the ICU, I told every single person who came into my room that I wasn’t going to die. I said it with confidence, not because I was trying to be strong on my own, but because of what God had told me. That promise stayed with me. It kept me grounded.

Even though I was still worried at times, I stayed in faith. I knew what the Almighty had spoken over me, and I held on to it with everything I had.

After three days, my condition improved. My oxygen levels were holding, and I was finally strong enough to be moved. They transferred me back to a regular floor.

I’m certain that by the time I left the ICU, the nurses believed that God was with me. You could see it in their eyes. You could hear it in the way they spoke to me. Something had changed, and they knew it too.

Back on the regular floor, I kept doing what I had been doing all along. I continued telling everyone who came into my room about God's promises. I told them how He spoke to me, how He guided me, and how He kept me alive when the doctors didn’t expect me to make it.

My oxygen levels were still low, but they were stable. I was no longer fighting just to breathe. I was getting stronger. Slowly, but surely, I was moving in the right direction. And through it all, I kept my faith right in front of me.

Not long after I was back on the regular floor, the nurse who had sent me to the ICU came in for her shift. She looked surprised when she saw me and asked, “Do you remember me?”

I told her I did. I said, “Yeah, you’re the one who sent me to the ICU,” and I said it in a half-joking, half-complaining way.

She smiled but didn’t hide how serious things had been. She told me I was one of the very few who survived this serious illness with COVID pneumonia.

I looked at her and said, “God controls the odds.”

After nine days in the hospital, they finally released me. They said I would need to take oxygen home with me because my levels were still too low. But now I had to figure out how to get home from Cleveland. The hospital said I could stay an extra day and wait for my insurance to cover an Uber ride. But that would have made it my tenth day in the hospital, and I didn’t want to stay a minute longer than I had to.

Thankfully, my brother drove about an hour to pick me up and take me back home. I had spoken to my Mom on the phone, and she told me that my brother had been on his way to the casino, but he changed his mind. He turned around and headed my way.

While I waited, the nurse came in to check my oxygen levels and get the tanks ready for me to take home. But something unexpected happened. She noticed my levels were now holding steady on their own. They were up, and they were stable. I no longer needed to go home with the tanks.

They were surprised.

As I sat there waiting for my brother, a few of the nurses began asking questions. They wanted to know what had happened, what I believed, and how I had made it through. So I told them. I shared the whole story, the vision God gave me, the words He spoke to me, and how He had kept me alive. They listened closely. You could tell they were intrigued.

Finally, my brother arrived and drove me home. On the way back, I had him stop at a fast food place, I just wanted to eat anything I could. I had lost a lot of weight during my time in the hospital.

When I got To the hospital, I made the mistake of telling them I was on a low-carb diet. That diet was my own choice, not my doctor's. He didn’t care either way. He just wanted me to be on some kind of diet. But once I told the hospital staff, they stuck with it. They kept me on that low-carb diet the entire time, and I felt like I was starving. I tried to get them to change it, but I couldn’t. They wouldn’t let me off of it.

I lost so much weight in there that I came out looking really thin. My face was super thin. You could see it. I had dropped a lot.

But after I got out, I ate everything I could. That was a big mistake. I gained it all back in just a couple of days.

I’m sure some people might think I believe I am better than those who did not survive COVID pneumonia, but I do not believe that at all. I do not think I am better than anyone. I believe that when someone dies, they go home to heaven if they are ready. And if they are not ready, they go somewhere else. When God takes someone, it is because their time has come.

I honestly believe that once a person enters heaven, they do not want to come back. They have found peace and joy. But when someone is kept alive, like I was, it means God still has something for them to do. Their time is not up yet.

Maybe they still have growing to do. Maybe they are meant to help someone else. Either way, their purpose is not finished.

So no, I do not think I am better than anyone who did not make it. I just believe God chose to keep me here because He still has a reason for me to stay.

Maybe it has something to do with a prayer I prayed a long time ago. I asked God not to let me die. I told Him I did not want to be buried in the ground. I did not want to be turned into ashes. I asked Him to let me rise like Enoch did.

It sounds funny, I know.

I do not know if something like that could ever happen, but I asked anyway. I asked Him to use me in a way I never expected. Maybe that is why I am still here. Or maybe it is something else. Only God knows.

God showed me His glory. He protected me through a serious illness. He guided every step of my care. He healed my body and gave me a testimony I can now share with others.

I whined and complained the whole time I was in the hospital. It was not where I wanted to be. I did not feel like I belonged there, and I definitely did not want to stay any longer than I had to.

Several times, I seriously considered signing myself out. I had made up my mind more than once. But every time I was about to go through with it, God reminded me of His words.

I had heard those same words again and again throughout this whole experience. I heard them on the television. I heard them on the radio. And sometimes, I heard them in my head when no one was speaking at all. They were always the same:

"Where you are going, you have to be to show the glory of God. Sit still and know that God is God."

But then came the moment He spoke to me directly. This time, it was not through a broadcast or a quiet nudge. It was His own voice. And what He said was different:

"Sit still and know that I am God."

That changed everything.

It was not just a message anymore. It was personal. He was speaking to me.

And that is what kept me there. Not the doctors. Not the medicine. Not the walls of that hospital. It was God's voice.

Because if He had not said that, I would have left. I would have signed myself out for sure. That was going to happen. But God stopped me. He told me to sit still. And I did.

There were moments of doubt. There were moments of fear. And there were moments when I did not understand why I was still there. But God knew. He reminded me again and again that I was there for a reason.

From the moment I first felt sick, through the vision on the mountain, through the ICU, through the struggle, the prayers, the nurses, and the healing, God was with me. He never left.

And what I know now is this: God is real. His Word is true. He still speaks. He still moves. And I was exactly where I needed to be.

Thank you for reading. If this story meant something to you, inspired you, made you think, or just kept you reading, I’d be honored if you’d tap the ❤️ to show some love, hit subscribe to follow me for more, and if you feel like it, you can leave a tip, totally optional, but always appreciated.

© 2025 Joey Raines. All rights reserved.