IT COULD BE YOU

No whisp of air stirred the leaves that hot morning in Java. To play outside meant perspiration steadily dripping from faces in the hot sun. So the children were glad for the cool floor tiles under their bare feet, as well as cold drinks to quench their thirst.

The constant heat brought groans as our children tried to concentrate on the Correspondence lessons, while I also occupied four-year-old Elisabeth, and fed baby Priscilla.

When Tukiran, the hospital chaffeur, drove up to our front door, eleven year old John ran out to meet him,

‘May John come with me to Blitar to collect medicines for the hospital?’ asked Tukiran respectfully, in his own language.

I consented. ‘Yes, Tukiran, John may go with you,’ as John hurried to close his school books, and ran out to slide into the seat beside the driver, and away they went.

Ruth, Judith and Miriam reluctantly settled back to their lessons, envious of John’s trip with Tukiran. But an hour later they gladly obeyed when I announced ‘School’s out’, and books, pens, paper and lessons disappeared with amazing speed.

However, after a few minutes I heard a bus stop at our front gate. To my surprise I watched John stagger out, and stumble down the rickety bus steps. I ran across the grass, and took his arm to help him up our five steps into our small front sitting room, while Ruth ran for a cool drink, and Judith slid a cane chair to seat her brother.

Pale and shocked John began his story.

Tukiran and John had collected the medicines, and were returning home at 120 kms per hour. John shouted to Tukiran to slow down, but he did not listen to his frightened, boyish cry. ‘As we came around the bend towards the narrow bridge, a loaded truck appeared from the opposite direction. There was no time nor room to pass the truck, so Tukiran had to swerve into the bamboo side of the bridge. As the flimsy wall broke , the car fell over into the river bed.’ We nervously listened to the rest of the story, realising that the bridges had steel sides.

‘We rolled over twice, hit some huge boulders, and actually finished the right way up. I’m glad we are still alive. ‘ And we agreed.

The driver, Tukiran, temporarily lost consciousness, but recovered after several days. He and John suffered severe shock. Tukiran remained in the car, while John scrambled up to the road where he hailed the passing bus which brought him home. Selamat, John’s friend from across the way, rode to the hospital in a pony cart, and returned with the doctor, who set off to rescue Tukiran.

When father reached the site of the accident, and saw the huge rocks over which the car rolled, he knew ‘God had saved Tukiran and John from injuries.’

The river bed was one of 16 rivers over which were bridges usually with steel walls. That day the bed was dry, despite the usual tropical rivers after torrential rain.

‘I’m certain someone prayed for us,’ I suggested later to our family, as we sat around, solemn but thankful for the safety of man and child.

News travels quickly in village life, and dozens of John’s Indonesian friends , our neighbours, and officials kindly visited to enquire. Each visitor listened as we talked of God’s loving care in protecting our son for a reason.

As I wrote that night to family, friends, and prayer-partners back in Australia, I told of God’s miracle of protection that day , mentioning the time and date.

Before long we received a letter from a friend in Tasmania. Crippled with arthritis, he spent his days in a wheel-chair. That particular morning, although severe pain racked his weary body, he felt God’s Spirit compelling him to pray for us as a family, because of a special need.

Certainly God answered that specific prayer with both our son and driver kept from injury or loss of life. Thankfully we remember that day when someone prayed and God answered.

Eighteen years after that John, his wife, Sandi, and our two grand-daughters, Simone and Adele, left to serve God in Java for nine years, with some of that time near where our wonderful God saved John’s life.

Have you ever wakened during the night, and someone’s name has suddenly come to mind, and you wondered why? Or you were helping peg out the clothes

or even playing or reading and you thought of a friend? You may not know their need, or danger, but God called you by His Spirit.

Somewhere there may be a ‘John’ or ‘Janet’ who needs help or a family to be kept in safety, because someone cared and prayed.

It could be YOU.

No wonder Paul wrote, ‘NEVER GIVE UP PRAYING.’

Pray now for someone who needs God’s help.

Gwenda would love to hear of some prayer miracle in your experience.