A Sacrifice of Praise

At the beginning of his book, Praise Works, Merlin Carothers tells this fascinating story: Frank Foglio, author of Hey, God! and international director of Full Gospel Business Men, told me one of the most remarkable cases of freedom through praise I have ever heard.

Frank’s daughter was injured in a car accident. Her skull was severely damaged, and although many thousands of prayers were offered for her recovery, her condition gradually worsened. Finally, she had to be placed in the “hopeless” ward of a mental institution. It was the very end of the road.

The patients in the ward were so far removed from reality that their families rarely came to visit them. One patient had remained tied down for twelve years because of his violence. Another sat motionless, staring at nothing, his empty eyes reflecting a mind in which there was nothing. Others lay rigid in their beds, without sight or movement. Vegetables. Frank’s daughter had torn apart her straitjacket and tried to hang herself with a sheet from her bed.

Seven years had passed since the accident, and the utter hopelessness of the situation began to take its toll on this true Italian. Frank’s faith in God began to weaken. On one particularly difficult trip to the institution, Frank began arguing with God. “How can You be a God of love? I would not let such a thing happen to my daughter if I had the power to prevent it. You could heal her. But You don’t want to. Don’t You love people even as much as I do? No, You can’t love them.”

Frank felt his anger toward God growing. “Praise Me,” a Voice told him. “Why?” Frank replied. “Praise Me because your daughter is where she is.” “Never!” he spat. “I’d rather die than do that.” God had no right to ask Frank to praise Him when He would not do His part and show His love for people.

Frank remembered hearing a recording about giving thanks for everything. The message had moved him deeply, but just then he was in no mood to put it into practice. “Thank Me that your daughter is exactly where she is,” the Voice said again. “God, I can’t praise You even if I try. And I’m not going to try, because I don’t think I can.”

As Frank continued on his way to the mental hospital, the Holy Spirit worked in his heart, and he felt his attitude begin to soften. “Well, God, I would praise You if I could,” he said, “but I just can’t.” After a while he confessed, “I would praise You, but You have to help me.”

After arriving at the institution, Frank had to complete the necessary formalities to get permission to enter the most restricted part of one of the buildings. It always took him quite a while to get into the ward where his daughter was. Sometimes he marveled that he kept going to see her. His daughter did not recognize him. She could not tell him from a stone on the floor.

At last, Frank reached the final waiting room, which separated him from her cell. One steel door remained to be opened. As he stood before it, Frank Foglio once more heard God’s calm, firm voice: “Thank Me that your daughter is exactly where she is.”

The disobedience, the unwillingness, the hardness of heart had melted away. The stony heart of anger and bitterness had somehow been replaced by a heart of flesh. His throat tight with emotion, Frank murmured his surrender: “All right, God. I thank You that my daughter is where she is. I acknowledge that You love her more than I do.”

At that moment, a vaguely familiar voice cried out, “I want to see my daddy! I want to see my daddy!” The attendant opened the door, and Frank ran into his daughter’s room. In her right mind, she opened her arms and embraced her father. Nurses, attendants, and guards gathered around and wept for joy.

Frank has told me, “Tell everyone that our daughter is home with us now. Tell them we know that God always wants us to praise Him, despite how things may appear.”