One Miracle After Another, a book about one man’s
struggles living as an Adventist in Communist times, was quite inspirational.
It recounted the times that Pavel Goia refused to go to school on Sabbath, yet
every Saturday school was cancelled due to severe weather conditions or other
abnormal circumstances causing his absence to be unnoticed. I was so awestruck
to see how God worked all things according to His good for this man that put
all his trust in God. However, I never felt that would be a reality for me:
only a good story that I once read in a fascinating book. I have been amazed to
see how God has answered my unspoken prayer week after week.
As
missionaries, we are supposed to be reaching those around us to help them find
the way to Jesus. Santa Marta, a small village about 10 miles North of our
project, has become one of the main focuses for our outreach. Every Sunday, a
group of us make the 35-minute drive to go study with some of our new friends.
Two weeks ago, there was a hurricane along the eastern side of Mexico that
traveled south. There was severe flooding in Mexico and parts of Belize.
Although our houses were not underwater, we experienced rain for about a week
and a half. The rain fell from the heavens all day, every day. Mud half way to
my knees, damp clothes that never smelled good, halted work for all, gloomy
spirits wondering if sun would ever be seen again. However, when Sunday
arrived, there was no rain. We traveled to Santa Marta, enjoyed fellowship with
others, witnessed, and returned home safely. The next week could only promise
better. Sun shining every day, work continued as normal. The heat was
exhaustive, but what a blessing to be able to walk on solid ground once again.
The week passed by and Sunday arrived once again. As irony would have it, the
black clouds gathered right before we left for our outreach. The drive along
the bumpy pathway was slow and slippery. The clouds opened up and poured down
upon us. With dashed hopes and no remembrance of God’s providing in the past,
we trudged along. The sun began to peak through the parting clouds driving the
rain away. Once again, we had a day of outreach without any rain. As I recalled
these last two weeks, I was reminded how every Sunday that we have gone to Santa
Marta, we have always had pleasant weather without any rain. Even when I was
not praying for God to hold the rain back, He knew what was best for us and
provided accordingly.
Some may
consider moving rocks a form of punishment. I actually enjoy it most days!
After mowing the fields with the tractor, I try and remove as many boulders as
possible so that the following cutting does not dig up so many buried
treasures. Although the work is tiring, sweaty, and mundane, I have been able
to learn valuable lessons. The saying, “ It’s just the tip of the iceberg” has
not meant so much as in the last few days. Even though the temperature would
never allow for a frozen mountain, the concept still applies. When I find a
rock, I first try to pick it up. If it is stuck, I try to hit it with a large
iron rod to loosen it. If that fails, I start prying with the bar. Occasionally
the picking, hitting, and prying all fail. In these severe circumstances,
drastic measures are called for. I get the shovel, pry bar, and water bottle
then start working. Yesterday I had a monster just barely poking its head out
of the ground. What looked like a five-minute job lasted for forty-five
minutes. I was just about to give up on its removal when I decided to give one
last effort. Much to my dismay, it budged ever so slightly. Oh bother! I knew
that I could not give up then. Despite my lack of strength or energy, I pressed
on in the work that lay ahead. With every ounce of effort that I had left, I
finally managed to remove the beast that was giving me such grief. The only
task that loomed was getting it into the one-wheeled chariot to take it to its
destiny, the rock pile. I tipped the wheelbarrow on its side and heaved with
all my might. Victory at last! An enormous feeling of success swept over me as
I finally dumped it out. It reminded me that in my times of distress, Christ
gives me the strength I need to accomplish the task He gives me.
This last Sabbath, I had the
opportunity to read a chapter out of Ellen White’s compilation entitled Prayer.
A thought hit me like a ton of bricks (or maybe rocks may be more apropos):
What a privilege prayer is for humans. In the story of Esther, one can read how
perilous it was to come before the king without being summoned. People risked
life simply to be in the presence of another mortal. Simply by the king’s word
could a person’s fate be determined. Can you imagine the terror that must have
plagued Esther as she walked through the corridor of the palace on her way to
face life or death? Every day, I come into the presence of the King. But unlike
the kings of old, my King has given me an open invitation to come visit Him. I
never have to travel for miles or days to come into His presence. He will never
reject me or sentence me to death, regardless of what baggage I bring along
with me. And the best part is that He is pleading for me to come into His
presence every day. He delights when you choose to visit Him in the morning and
talk with Him throughout the day. I beckon you to take advantage of this
superior opportunity that has been granted to each one of us. I guarantee that
if you trust Him with all of you life’s work, you will not be disappointed.
Results may not be expected, so make sure you are holding on tight to His hand.
