[Testimony =
written by a missionary doctor who worked in Africa decades ago. Reprint =
from Grif Net 25 years ago]
One night I =
had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but despite all we =
could do, she died, leaving us with a tiny, premature baby and a crying =
two-year-old daughter. We would have difficulty keeping the baby alive =
as we had no incubator (we had no electricity to run an incubator). We =
also had no special feeding facilities.
Although we =
lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with treacherous drafts. =
One student midwife went for the box we had for such babies and the =
cotton wool that the baby would be wrapped in. Another went to stoke up =
the fire and fill a hot water bottle. She came back shortly in distress =
to tell me that in filling the bottle, it had burst (rubber perishes =
easily in tropical climates). “And it is our last hot water =
bottle!” she exclaimed. As in the West, it is no good crying over =
spilled milk, so in Central Africa it might be considered no good crying =
over burst water bottles. They do not grow on trees, and there are no =
drugstores down forest pathways.
“All =
right,” I said, “put the baby as near the fire as you safely =
can, and sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from =
drafts. Your job is to keep the baby =
warm.”
The following =
noon, as I did most days, I went to have prayers with any of the =
orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave the youngsters =
various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about the tiny =
baby. I explained our problem about keeping the baby warm enough, =
mentioning the hot water bottle, and that the baby could so easily die =
if it got chills. I also told them of the two-year-old sister, crying =
because her mother had died.
During prayer =
time, one ten -year-old girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt =
conciseness of our African children. “Please, God” she =
prayed, “Send us a hot water bottle today. It’ll be no good =
tomorrow, God, as the baby will be dead, so please send it this =
afternoon.”
While I gasped =
inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added, “And while You =
are about it, would You please send a dolly for the little girl, so =
she’ll know You really love her?”
As often with =
children’s prayers, I was put on the spot. Could I honestly say =
“Amen?” I just did not believe that God could do this. Oh, =
yes, I know that He can do everything; the Bible says so. But there are =
limits, aren’t there? The only way God could answer this prayer would be =
by sending me a parcel from the homeland. I had been in Africa for =
almost four years at that time, and I had never, ever, received a parcel =
from home. Anyway, if anyone did send me a parcel, who would put in a =
hot water bottle? I lived on the equator!
Halfway =
through the afternoon, while I was teaching in the nurses’ training =
school, a message was sent that there was a car at my front door. By the =
time I reached home, the car had gone, but there on the verandah was a =
large 22-pound parcel. I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could not open =
the parcel alone, so I sent for the orphanage children. Together we =
pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. We folded the paper, =
taking care not to tear it unduly. Excitement was mounting. Some thirty =
or forty pairs of eyes were focused on the large cardboard box. From the =
top, I lifted out brightly colored, knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I =
gave them out. Then there were the knitted bandages for the leprosy =
patients, and the children looked a little bored. Then came a box of =
mixed raisins and sultanas – that would make a batch of buns for the =
weekend.
Then, as I put =
my hand in again, I felt the…..could it really be? =
I grasped it =
and pulled it out. Yes, a brand new, rubber hot water bottle. I cried. I =
had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that He =
could.
Ruth was in =
the front row of the children. She rushed forward, crying out, “If =
God has sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly, =
too!”
Rummaging down =
to the bottom of the box, she pulled out the small, beautifully dressed =
dolly. Her eyes shone! She had never doubted! Looking up at me, she =
asked, “Can I go over with you and give this dolly to that little =
girl, so she’ll know that Jesus really loves =
her?”
“Of =
course,” I replied!
That parcel =
had been on the way for five whole months, packed up by my former Sunday =
school class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God’s prompting to send =
a hot water bottle, even to the equator.
And one of the =
girls had put in a dolly for an African child – five months before, in =
answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring it “that =
afternoon.”
“Before =
they call, I will answer.” (Isaiah 65:24)
~~
Dr Bob Griffin =
[email protected] www.grif.net =
"Jesus =
Knows Me, This I Love!"