A Miracle of ‘Evie’ Proportions

Lately, I’ve been reflecting over the thirty years of life that God has given me. For the last several months, I’ve spent a predominant part of my life in a hospital bed. To be honest, not knowing whether you’re going to make it out of the storm alive will cause you to think hard about what is important in life. Through the journey, I’ve had what I would guess to be a thousand conversations. Some of the utmost importance with my medical care team, some just small talk with nurses or visitors. But throughout my life, I’ve had a few conversations that have impacted me forever. This story is full of those conversations. In A Miracle of Evie Proportions, I’ll take you on a journey through a few of those. Talks with God, our parents, my wife, myself, and doctors… but each one an important stepping stone in our path to Denver, Colorado.


The first conversation that comes to mind was with Ashlyn. We were relatively early in our courtship/dating/relationship; whatever us Christians call the stage in life after the man gets permission from the chief priest (joke) to pursue the princess, but are not yet engaged. We were far enough along that we both knew we were going to get married. We were playing our favorite game: 20 Questions, where we take turns asking each other questions. Some of these questions were lighthearted in the pursuit of knowing one another better, other times they were serious questions: things you needed to know before the ‘I do.’ It was never only 20 questions, we would continue to ask one after the other until we couldn’t think of another question.


There are only two rules. First, the person being asked the question must answer no matter how difficult the truth is. Second, the person who asked the question cannot comment on the answer. It is a game we still play to this day, as it is a great way for us to communicate what we’re thinking in difficult times. By asking questions without comment, you give the other person the freedom to express their true perspective without fear of you imposing preconceived notions on the situation. However, nine times out of ten, the next question is “what do you think”.


I had just answered a question about my dream family when I could almost hear her countenance change over the phone. Immediately I thought I had said something wrong, so my next question was “what did I say?” One thing I’ve learned about my (now) wife is that she is very anti-confrontational. If she can deal with a situation internally, most people will never know there is a problem. This time, it wasn’t something she could keep to herself. With tears in her eyes, she explained that she had a medical condition that would make it very difficult to get pregnant. I could tell she wanted to know what I was thinking but was afraid to ask the next question.


My whole life I dreamed about being a husband and a father. Even from an early age, I thought about date nights with my wife. Raising children and training them to be amazing in sports. As soon as I was saved, I began to pray for my future wife. I thought about the awesome time we would have serving God together in the ministry. I dreamed of the white, two-story house with red shutters on the hill. Mentally I’ve sat in my ‘Cracker Barrel’ rocking chairs on our wrap-around deck, reading my Bible at sunrise and basking in the breeze of ceiling fans neatly arranged all throughout. I’ve driven that long gravel driveway leading past the pond where I’d teach our kids how to fish. I’ve painted that scenic white fence outlining our property, held my wife’s hand while our kids play in the yard with their German shepherd puppy.


I’ve played out Christmas day where all of our little ones (I wanted to tell you the twelve names we've picked out for our kids but Ashlyn wouldn't let me... you should talk to her about that. Boy names start with K's and girl names start with E's) would jump in our California king-sized bed. They’d eagerly lead us down the spiral staircase into the ‘big room’ and sprint to the massive Christmas tree busting at the seams with gifts. I’ve prayed over the thanksgiving meal, where our family and friends from all over would sit at our huge dining room table. Enjoying one another’s fellowship while making fun of Aunt Sissy and Aunt C for sitting at the kiddy table. I can hear laughter, music, and little footsteps dashing across our hardwood floors. You get the picture; I firmly believe I was born to be a family man. With (unlikely dreams of grandeur) a beautiful wife and twelve kids, jokingly nicknamed ‘the disciples’.


In Ashlyn’s mind, all these dreams were now dashed. I’d imagine she thought to have kids would be one the non-negotiable in our relationship. This was the first and only time I broke the rules of 20 Questions.


“Ashlyn I just want you to know that I love you, and I’m going to marry you. If God gives us children then we’ll praise Him, but if not, we’re going to serve him together anyway. You are my dreams now, and I’d be content living in a dimly lit, one-bedroom apartment, halfway across the world, so long as I have you to enjoy it with.” (God has a funny sense of humor.)



Her mind was put to ease and not too terribly long thereafter we were happily married. Fast forward almost a year later and you’ll find the next conversation that changed my life forever. I was sitting alone in our “one-bedroom studio apartment” (the ‘big room’ at my in-law’s house) when Ashlyn walked in beaming. Immediately I knew and my hypothesis was confirmed as she revealed the pregnancy test hiding in her pocket. My only reaction was to bury my head in her chest and cry like a little girl. Obviously, this was one of the happiest moments in my life. The next day our tests were confirmed by our physician and we began to dream about the little family God had blessed us with. We bought onesies for both genders and surprised our family with the news that night, the following afternoon it was Facebook official… I was one proud daddy.



Annual rabbit trail (I’m going to call these ‘Trey Trails’ from here on out): We firmly believe that life begins at conception: A Biblically proven, scientifically based fact. We honor, love, and cherish the sanctity of all life, especially innocent children inside the womb. Abortion of any kind for any reason is murder. It is the inhumane taking of innocent life. Throughout history, this has been the longstanding view of nearly all Christians and until relatively recently, the world. Those in the church and other heretical denominations who believe in “pro-choice” stand in direct opposition to God and His Word. I don’t mean to sound insensitive here. I understand that many women feel trapped, alone, and are hurting. Many believe they have no other choice. As Christians, we need to do everything in our power to give these women the resources, help, and counseling they need. We should love those who have had previous abortions and not attack them for their choices.


Christian, if we sincerely believe this truth, we must fight for the lives of the unborn and reject abortion and euthanasia for any reason. Our lifestyle, vote, social media posts, efforts, financial giving, testimony, etc. should always reflect this belief. For the first time since Roe v. Wade, America has a chance to stamp out legalized abortion; but Christians MUST vote for candidates who stand firm on these truths. Our constitution guarantees the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness to all: including those developing inside the womb. Over the next four years, it is very likely that at least one supreme court justice seat will be vacated. We need to elect the candidate who will appoint appropriate justices in office that will honor our constitution and the lives of our most innocent citizens. Our Bibles teach us that the child inside the womb has been “formed” by God (Jeremiah 1:5) and is capable of thought and praise. (Luke 1:41) We must FIGHT, but we must also change our language and thinking on the baby inside the womb. When that child is conceived, it becomes a living soul. That blessed woman is not “going” to be a mom, she is a mom! That blessed man is not “going” to be a dad, he is a dad! We must do everything in our power to protect that child.


However, my joy would soon become anguish. A mere six days after finding out she was pregnant; my wife came out of our church’s bathroom in tears. She was having severe complications outside of our control. She looked to me to help discern the situation, and I said everything would be ok, but inside I knew there was serious trouble. To be brutally honest, I didn’t hear one word from Pastor’s sermon that night. In fact, I really didn’t want to be in church at all. I could not bear to hear one more congratulatory comment, (obviously we were the only ones who knew about the complications so people were celebrating the pregnancy with us, but I was hurting) I couldn’t stand the joy, laughter, and worship of other Christians. I felt alone, scared, and angry. I knew exactly what the complications meant, we’d had friends and family have similar heartbreak, so in my mind, I had already concluded what would later be confirmed by doctors. We rushed home after service. I didn’t stick around for fellowship, I didn’t shake the pastor’s hand, I didn’t join our friends for dinner. I wanted to get home, cut every light out in the house, pull the covers over my head, and die.


The following day while at work I got the call I had been dreading all day: Ashlyn was headed for an emergency appointment at the OBGYN. The seriousness of the situation was made even more real by the fact that this OB usually only saw patients twelve weeks pregnant or more, Ash was only five. I was so worried that I made myself sick and threw up in the parking lot. I drove fast, sinfully fast; weaving throughout I-40 traffic from Greensboro to Winston Salem. I arrived just as Ashlyn was being called back for an ultrasound.


The ultrasound revealed the only breath of hope we would receive that day. The egg sack was still there, high in its place (apparently a good thing) and Ashlyn was too early along for the baby to have developed a heartbeat. We were escorted into the examination room and awaited the results of the bloodwork. Moments later, a short and solemn-faced man would walk in and introduce himself as our doctor, perhaps the very best OB in the state of North Carolina. He sat down and gently unpacked the worst news Ashlyn and I had ever heard. Ashlyn’s HCG and progesterone levels were extremely low, so low he wouldn’t reveal the exact number. We’d later find out through “mychart” that her levels were lower than a woman who wasn’t even pregnant: she was literally off the chart. These levels indicate various things in a pregnancy, but most notably, the baby’s natural development, and Ashlyn’s ability to carry the child. Because the levels were so low, her body thought the baby as a foreign substance and was trying to naturally abort the pregnancy.


Starting that day, Ashlyn would receive progesterone administered through a needle (which looked more like a flagpole) in both hips, twice a week. She would also take two progesterone pills twice per day. The doctor then began using words like prayer, miracle, hopefully, etc. which coming from a catholic man only reassured the inevitable in my mind. He was brutally honest and instructed us to prepare for the worst. There was a 99 percent chance Ashlyn’s body would naturally abort the pregnancy within the week. He let us know he would be praying for us, and that they would do everything in their power to help the baby develop naturally. Because Ash was so early in the pregnancy, we’d have to wait two weeks and come back in for another ultrasound. If the baby developed a heartbeat by then, we’d have a slim chance at a viable pregnancy.


Here is where I wish I could tell you that I am a man of unwavering faith. I’d like to tell you that I claimed the promises of God’s Word and stood firm on the faith that my precious child would develop a heartbeat. But once again, just to be real- I’m not a man of great faith. I’m not known as someone who champions the idea that everything is working out for my good. I know that it is, and I believe every word in my King James Bible. But when it comes down to putting the Bible into real-life shoe leather and living it… well, I’m probably a man of just enough faith. Don’t get me wrong, I believe the Bible from cover to cover, and live it as best as I can. I believe my wife would tell y0u that I’m the same man behind the pulpit as I am at home. I know God CAN, but I just don’t know that He will in every situation.


Ashamedly I’m probably what you would call a realist: I don’t see the glass half full, nor do I see the glass half empty, I just see a half cup of water. My optimism or pessimism will not add or take away one drop of water from that cup. Let me give you an example before you write me off as a heretic. Every day, men and women of great faith die from various illnesses, even though they prayed to live. Missionaries who lead countless people to Christ still come off the field almost daily, even though they know it was God’s will for them to be there. I’m not saying God doesn’t answer prayer, because He’s moved on my behalf in ways that I can’t even explain; but I am saying things don’t always go the way I want them. This doesn’t change God’s goodness, His love for us, or His plan for our lives. It doesn’t make God bad, as we know He is a just judge who loves us far greater than we can even comprehend. I guess what I’m saying is that it rains on the just and the unjust. Bad things happen to everyone, it’s a fact of life, and a result of a sin-cursed world, body, and nature.


The ride home that day was predictably miserable. I don’t particularly remember either of us saying a word the entire trip; we both just silently wept. I got home and wanted to crawl in bed and die, but I knew we needed to tell our family. For most of us, the response was the same, many tears and much silence. There aren’t many words of encouragement out there for times like these. However, there was one conversation with my father-in-law in which I’ll never forget. Though I am not a man of great faith, Tim Tilley (my father-in-law) is. After receiving the news, he claimed Ephesians 3:20 and told us everything was going to be fine. He reassured us that his first grandbaby would develop a heartbeat and would be born happy, healthy, and perfect. Then almost immediately disappeared into his room. At the time I didn’t know whether to hug him or punch him, but I was glad he was praying for us.


Bro Tim is a man you’d want on your side in a street fight or in spiritual warfare. He’s a retired police officer with undercover, vice, and various other “I can kick your head off” law enforcement experience. But he’s also a godly man who lives what he preaches. He’s an evangelist. By faith, he lives with a plethora of serious medical conditions some of which are life-threatening. I mean if anyone has an excuse to throw in the towel and quit the ministry, it’s Tim. Yet when I lived with him, I witnessed him read his Bible and pray daily. I heard phone call after phone call, as he encouraged another pastor and prayed for their needs. I’ve never once heard him complain about his health: though at times his legs literally quit working. I’ve seen him handle the pain that would debilitate most people, with a smile on his face. Through it all he’s praying, praising, and preaching. I’m not saying he’s superhuman, all-powerful, or perfect, but the man knows how to get in touch with the One who is. Just knowing he was praying for my family gave me a spiritual shot in the arm: Bro Tim is one of my spiritual heroes.


Trey Trail Two: Pastor, if you’re looking for an evangelist to come in for revival, youth conference, teen camp, special service, camp meeting, etc. or even just for fellowship, please prayerfully consider having Bro. Tim Tilley in your meetings. He is a traveling evangelist with youth pastor experience and is sent out and in good standing with Lighthouse Baptist Church in Lexington, NC. He won’t just come in, preach three to five sugar stick messages and leave. He’ll break open the bread of life, feed your flock, and preach soul-stirring messages from the Word of God. I truly believe he will encourage you and help your people. He’ll also be a great blessing to you as well. He’ll do anything (biblically) you ask: door knock, paint a room, encourage a saint, visit with you, work hard inside and outside the church walls, teach Sunday school, etc. His wife, Claudette, (my other mama), will be a help and encouragement to your wife and ladies in your congregation as well.


Throughout all my health issues, I’ve been hospitalized several times for extended periods. (in Denver, CO; a place where it’s difficult to find a man who can preach for you). At a moment’s notice, the Tilleys have dropped everything to come out to help us. He’s fed my people and kept my church thriving while I was away. I don’t just say this because they’re my in-laws (and they certainly didn’t ask me to say this). I have very good friends and family in the ministry, who I would never allow in my pulpit. I strongly believe in protecting my flock, and I can trust him wholeheartedly with my congregation even when I’m not there. I’ve included a link to his website and contact information if you’d like to reach out to him. Feel free to reach out to me as well for more information about the Tilleys. If you have them in, and they’re a blessing to you and your people, please pass his information along to your friends in the ministry. Their ministry is completely by faith; through referral and word of mouth.



Those two weeks crept by like a dental procedure without local anesthetics: perhaps the most miserable days of my life. Inside I was grieving as if there was no hope. I tried to work (I was the general manager of Little Caesars) but when I was there, I was useless. Thankfully I had a wonderful boss who covered for me so I could be with my wife. My sister also left her home in West Virginia to be with us in North Carolina on the days I needed to be at work. When I was home, Ash and I pretty much just laid in bed. I could count the number of hours I slept on one hand. I tried to be strong, I tried to encourage my wife, I tried to distract from the situation, but it was difficult.


The next conversation I had was with God. Three days after the appointment, Ashlyn was still showing signs that her body was aborting the pregnancy. I had worried so much so physically sick. I was also concerned that my disposition would affect Ashlyn. I’m not great at hiding how I feel, I’m not necessarily emotional, but if something isn’t right, others easily notice. I can’t explain how proud I was of Ash: at least outwardly she was a rock. Yes, she had her moments of grief as any mother would, but that girl placed her faith in God and didn’t waver. She studied how to naturally raise her levels and kept to a special diet religiously. She did her very best not to put a strain on her body and worked hard to do everything within her being to protect that child.


Inwardly, I was failing miserably. For the first time in my life, I really didn’t know what to do which was extremely unnatural for me. For some reason, God has allowed me to find a position of leadership in almost every stage of life. From sports to secular jobs, church, etc. in critical situations, I’m usually leading a team. I try to determine what I can do, do it, then delegate other responsibilities so that we can actively attack the plan and reach the goal. For example, I drove my dad absolutely crazy in sports because I had what he called “natural talent”. Meaning I didn’t have to work as hard as most people, yet I found success because things came naturally to me. I never had to study, because once I read the information one time or the teacher mentioned it, something just clicked in my head. Most people, like my dad, are the exact opposite; they have to work extremely hard for the success they have.


Trey Trail Three: Remember, hard work beats talent when talent doesn’t work hard. Our “natural” abilities are no excuse for not putting in the required work. This translates into the ministry when we rely on our flesh to serve. If we aren’t relying on God and putting in the required effort of prayer, faith, and work: we will fail! When we have successes, we are more likely to take the credit instead of glorifying God. When we “naturally” trust in our own ability we begin to operate in the flesh; which is not something God can bless. This is another constant battle I fight in my spiritual life.


But now I wasn’t wrestling an earthly opponent, I was wrestling God. He took one of my greatest strengths and made it my greatest weakness. I found myself in a place where I had absolutely no control. I couldn’t make Ashlyn’s levels rise, I couldn’t “spark” a heartbeat in that little baby. There was no miracle game plan to success. There was no team to delegate responsibilities. There was literally nothing I could do. I remember lying in bed staring at the shadows the tv cast on the ceiling until 3:11 a.m. The history channel had just transitioned from fifty-seven back to back episodes of Forged in Fire to its nightly routine of Mr. Pho’s miracle fatback belly burner infomercial. I was nearly convinced that 10,000 micro-vibrations a second mixed with intense heat directed at your “troubled areas” could help you lose ten pounds and ten inches in ten weeks.


I’d finally had enough of my overanalytical brain. I dropped to the uncharacteristically cold floor and began complaining to God about everything I thought I was going through. It wasn’t very long until I ran out of complaints. Even in this sin-sick, unspiritual, unfaithful, state of mind, I couldn’t deny that God was good no matter the outcome. I couldn’t kick against the prick of God’s Word when it said He was in control, and I needed to submit to Him. As mad, hurt, angry, broken, beatdown, and defeated as I was, I knew He loved me unconditionally. I knew I needed to repent because I desperately needed His fellowship so, I did.


Once I made things right with God, I didn’t pray some great prayer of faith. There wasn’t an earth-shaking moment where God broke the chains and released me from my self-imposed prison of pain and doubt. No, honestly those were still there. I had no clue of how to pray. I knew I wanted my child to live, I knew I needed to be the spiritual leader in my home and point Ashlyn to the cross, but at this moment, I couldn’t bring those words to mind. In a rare instant, Trey Dillon was speechless. So, before the throne of grace, in the presence of an almighty God, I laid silently and wept while the Holy Spirit ministered to my soul. I carefully listened for his still small voice. After a few minutes I prayed this prayer:


God, I don’t know what to pray; would you please just have somebody, anybody, pray for us? God can someone please intercede on my behalf?”


A few moments after amen, I received a text message at approximately 3:45 a.m. I wondered who in the world was texting me at this hour. (As you can see, my faith… not the greatest. I should’ve automatically praised God for answering my prayer) As I got off the floor and looked at my phone this was the message:


“Bro Trey, we’ve never met, but I heard the story of what y’all are going through. I just wanted you to know God woke me up about twenty minutes ago to pray for you. We love y’all and will continue to pray. Please let me know if I can do anything for you.”


No name, no contact information, nothing… but man, God helped my faith that morning. I didn’t necessarily have the peace that passed understanding this time, but I knew I had met with God, and I knew I heard His voice. (Not audibly, I’m not crazy like that.) Throughout the next several days my phone constantly lit up with reminders that people all over the world (we got messages from England, Mexico, Australia, and Japan) were praying for us. You see, when my father in law disappeared into his room that day, he got on his knees and he prayed for us. He then contacted preachers, friends, family, and churches everywhere and asked them to pray for us. If anything, I learned that prayer is a powerful gift and that God still answered my prayers.


The day of our appointment was dreadfully here. I say that because I was on day three of no sleep. If I could have made time stop, I would have. I was terrified of what the doctor was going to tell us. My wife was peacefully sleeping so I ever so cautiously snuck out of bed and retreated to an ice-cold shower. I had hopes of shocking my system into waking up, no such luck. Soon thereafter I found myself seated in Tim’s office, nervously fumbling through channel after channel on the television. Another miserable attempt at distracting my brain from what was to come. Each second ticked off the clock as if it were its own exaggerated eternity. Then I noticed a sign in Tim’s office: “Father filtered”. A small reminder that once again, everything goes through God and is either given by Him or allowed by Him. After what seemed like hours, I escorted my beautiful wife into the car, and we headed for the doctor.


I anxiously sat in that office like a man sentenced to death on the morning of his execution. I was drenched in sweat and probably smelled like someone who had already been dead for a while. My heart pounded in my chest then dropped to my stomach when I heard the words: Ashlyn Dillon. The tech escorted us into the ultrasound room, and I found my place on the edge of one of the chairs. I nervously tapped my feet and wrung my hands together like dishrags in grandma’s sink. The moment of truth was here. The ultrasound tech comforted my wife and then explained what she was about to do. I waited in silence chasing my next breath.


Almost immediately after the test began, I looked up and was the first to see movement on the ultrasound screen! I probably jumped five feet in the air as I yelled: “there it is, there’s the heartbeat”. The tech confirmed my observations and joined in my celebration. We jumped up and down in the room. Ashlyn wept, praising God for answering our prayers. I wouldn’t trade every victory, every award, every championship moment in the world for that feeling. Outside of salvation and my wedding, it was the greatest moment of my life. We embraced one another in the lobby and wept together with joy as we waited to be called back to see the doctor. Employee after employee came out to congratulate us, hugging my wife like she was the Superbowl MVP, in my mind she was. After experiencing that feeling I can’t understand how anyone could willfully terminate their pregnancy, just the thought breaks my heart.


Shortly thereafter we were taken back into the counseling room to meet with the doctor. Once again, he walked in very solemnly and reintroduced himself; for a moment my heart began to sink again. Here is the conversation that followed: “I don’t know if you guys completely comprehend this or not but that child inside of you is a miracle from God. Your HGC and progesterone levels are the lowest ever recorded results in this network of practices where the baby has developed a heartbeat. Medically I cannot explain to you how that baby has a heartbeat. You must understand that you’re not out of the woods yet, but I’m very excited to see what God is going to do through this pregnancy and with that child.”



Us: …

(We were speechless because we really didn’t know what to say. We just praised God with the doctor for a moment.) But I was convinced I had the next generations greatest preacher growing inside my wife. (Boy obviously, I wanted a boy.)


Over the next several months, twice a week I’d drive Ashlyn to Winston Salem for her injections. They were painful, sometimes she quenched her fist as tears rolled down her cheeks, but she a trooper. She fought hard to protect that little baby: sticking to her diet, monitoring her activity, and trusting God for the rest. As per usual, inwardly I was a mess. The fear of losing that heartbeat was a very real thing for me during the entire pregnancy. Finally, toward the end, I realized once again I wasn’t in control and just handed my fears over to the Lord. I placed my faith in Him and trusted He had our best interests at heart.


Not long thereafter we found ourselves in the maternity ward of the hospital. The “end of days” had finally come and we anxiously awaited the arrival of our little princess. God didn’t give me my preacher yet… But our princess, she had my heart the very moment I saw her's beating on that screen, and couldn’t wait to finally meet her in person. (though initially, I wanted a boy, I wouldn’t change a thing. That little girl and I have already developed an unbreakable bond) Ashlyn’s labor would progress very quickly. It seemed like minutes into pushing, nurses were scrambling to get the doctor in the room to birth the baby. We’d put Tim in the bathroom of the delivery room so he could experience her arrival into this world. I truly believed if it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t have been there that day. I wanted him to cut the umbilical cord, which wasn’t something that I had an interest in doing, but I knew it would be very special for him. As the doctor examined little Everleigh “Evie” Addison Dillon’s body, brother Tim (and the rest of us) got to experience his words “she’s perfect”.




Each of these conversations, and many more after them, have built the road for us to be in Denver today. What I learned in the fire helps me even now as I lay in the hospital. I’ve built upon the faith God gave me through Evie and used it in replanting the Fundamental Baptist Church. Anytime there is a problem, I remember Who my strength comes from. Reader, the most important conversation you can ever have is the conversation with God about your eternity. Do you know where you’ll be the very moment after you take your last breath here on earth? Can you take me to a time in your life where you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Savior? If not, why not have that conversation with God today? Christian, the most important conversation we have every day is our prayer time with God.


Through Evie’s journey, I learned the importance of prayer and the power it holds in my life. Unfortunately, prayer is likely the most neglected tool you and I use today. Do you realize that you have access to a thrice-holy God, who wants to bless us with His grace and mercy? I am closer to God today than when I had that first conversation with Ash, and through each one of the conversations in Evie’s journey I learned to rely more and more upon God.


P.S.: I wanted to end this article by saying this: I can not imagine the pain that a mother (or father) goes through in actually losing a child. By sharing my emotions with you on this journey, I just wanted to give you a raw, very real look at what I was experiencing. I know my emotions may seem very dramatic, and if you feel that way I understand. But please note I am not, nor would I ever, minimize the pain of losing a child. Also, if you know someone who is dealing with the hurt of the loss of a child, please be very “cautious” of the “encouragement” you give them.


Everyone deals with grief differently; some hate sympathy, some move on quickly, some grieve for a long time, some need, and therefore seek, attention. (as this is a very painful, lonely time in their lives) It is not our place to “encourage” someone to just get over it. You wouldn’t believe some of the social media comments I’ve seen from people who probably had good intentions but were very hurtful with their content. The best thing we can do is to let them know we love them and that we are praying for them, and actually do it.

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CONTACT US

Trey Dillon, Pastor

303.880.5510

fbcdenver@outlook.com


1120 S. Irving Street

Denver, CO 80219

P.O. Box 11536 

Denver, CO 80211

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