"If God Is with us, who can be against us"

Every married man has a mental (well thumbed) copy of the manual, compiled by men across the centuries, entitled ‘How to come through when your wife asks the impossible’ It was 4.30am, 30’C, 90% humidity, and she had to leave early for a factory visit and where were her only pair of jeans ? (she had nothing else to wear).They were in the laundry shop because someone had forgotten to pick them up. I groaned internally. 

It was true. It was my job. Every week, with the precision and efficiency of the German Railways, I picked up the laundry and dropped off the new batch. It takes 20 minutes dead. The shop didn’t open until 8am and she needed to leave by 5am. 

I reached for the manual. There was only one reference entry for this situation, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. One stick of dynamite on each side of the laundry door, blow it open, rush in , get the jeans , come back, save the day and do 10 years for criminal damage. It might have been worth the stretch too but my dynamite was in my other jeans, and you know where they were. No, not even Beckham could score from this angle. 

 At the end of my strength I did the only thing I could do, I hid; behind the shield that we use to put out the flaming darts of our loved ones, I stated the obvious: ‘I was not a magician’. And then, as if by magic, the cavalry arrived. 

 The power and majesty of the living God could not have been more obvious if a giant hand had shot down through the sky, come crashing through the roof and pointed, or if a voice had bellowed ‘Behold’ or if my Guardian Angel had grabbed the last un-chewed part of my remaining ear and pulled it down into the laundry basket. 

I knew in this moment how Moses felt as he watched the Red Sea open before him: there they were, sat on top of the basket: her jeans. I was tempted to savour this moment, borrow a top hat ,black cape and white gloves,(maybe a cane), string a few socks together and put on a brief show first but the clock was ticking so I just brought them over to her and got back the sweetest smile ever. She knows a miracle when she sees one too. The ball was in the back of the net, and God saved the day. 

 In my minds eye I could see all my tutors grinning back at me, the men I respect and admire who have gone before me, who had stood in the arena alone, who know, as I am beginning to know, that God is Good, faithful, present, and He is our alliance.

My last mental image as dawn breaks and the coffee percolates is my favourite, a Spitfire, skirting the white cliffs, engine roaring, about half throttle, the pilot gently pushes the stick to the right and it turns over in a smooth victory roll; then banks right and climbs steeply up into the sun. The post-it note on the altimeter reads, ‘pick-up laundry’. Not by precision or efficiency but through adversity to the stars.

Masai Evangelist

One day Joseph, who was walking along one of these hot, dirty African roads, met someone who shared the gospel of Jesus Christ with him. Then and there he accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior. The power of the Spirit began transforming his life; he was filled with such excitement and joy that the first thing he wanted to do was return to his own village and share that same Good News with the members of his local tribe.

Joseph began going from door-to-door, telling everyone he met about the Cross [suffering!] of Jesus and the salvation it offered, expecting to see their faces light up the way his had. To his amazement the villagers not only didn’t care, they became violent. The men of the village seized him and held him to the ground while the women beat him with strands of barbed wire. He was dragged from the village and left to die alone in the bush.

Joseph somehow managed to crawl to a water hole, and there, after days of passing in and out of consciousness, found the strength to get up. He wondered about the hostile reception he had received from people he had known all his life. He decided he must have left something out or told the story of Jesus incorrectly. After rehearsing the message he had first heard, he decided to go back and share his faith once more.

Joseph limped into the circle of huts and began to proclaim Jesus. “He died for you, so that you might find forgiveness and come to know the living God” he pleaded. Again he was grabbed by the men of the village and held while the women beat him reopening wounds that had just begun to heal. Once more they dragged him unconscious from the village and left him to die.

To have survived the first beating was truly remarkable. To live through the second was a miracle. Again, days later, Joseph awoke in the wilderness, bruised, scarred—and determined to go back.

He returned to the small village and this time, they attacked him before he had a chance to open his mouth. As they flogged him for the third and probably the last time, he again spoke to them of Jesus Christ, the Lord. Before he passed out, the last thing he saw was that the women who were beating him began to weep.

This time he awoke in his own bed. The ones who had so severely beaten him were now trying to save his life and nurse him back to health. The entire village had come to Christ.

This is one vivid example of what Paul meant when he said, “I complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions, for the sake of his body.”